#Eddie Munson going back home to find that so little has changed but maybe just maybe people have | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

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hii ^^ i looove your writing !! i’m so obsessed with this idea of best friend!eddie teaching virgin!reader how to give head😭😭😭 like maybe they’re watching a movie and a sex scene comes on and out of pure curiosity she’s like “i wonder how it feels…does it feel good?” and omg he would be so vocal, sweet, and instructional😭😭😭

Just call me Mr. Munson

rockstar!eddie munson x virgin best friend fem!reader

⚠️warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, oral (m receiving), slight female masturbation, corruption kink, slight dom!eddie, very dirty talk, honestly just filth, no use of y/n, overuse of the nickname peach and baby, eddie’s soft for us, readers 20 while Eddie is 21, corroded coffin are in the infancy of their career thus nothing has really changed in eddies life.

wc: 3.7k

note: thank you so much @wdsara48 for the request and the kind words! I hope you enjoy, babe 💗 (remember to tip your writers with a comment and reblog)

Your best friend is a rockstar, you always knew he’d make a name for himself with his music, you couldn’t have been more happy for him, but you also miss him like crazy when he’s on tour.

You’d always hang out with the guys when they’d get back; go out for drinks, have game nights at Eddie’s place which usually consisted of dnd, or hit up whatever party was happening that weekend.

The first couple of days were always the best, they would still be in their sex, drugs and rock and roll headspace, trying to adjust to normality after a crazy tour.

You knew all about their sexual escapades while away, of course they weren’t directly said to you, but to each other as you listened in, they’d occasionally throw you a look of remorse as if they’d ruin your virgin ears with their banter. Okay, so you were a virgin, it’s not like you can’t talk about sex though, you more often than not felt like their little sister and it drove you crazy.

You wanted to get some experience and maybe impress them with stories of your own, but when it came down to it, you chickened out. The thought of having sex with a random guy for the sake of gaining experience just didn’t sit right with you, and so you were never able to follow through with it.

You had always secretly hoped that Eddie would maybe teach you some stuff, you would replay possible conversations in your mind of how you’d want to ask him, but you couldn’t follow through with that either. Maybe you just weren’t meant to be experienced in that area, maybe it’s a good thing. Yeah, that’s what you tell yourself but it never really feels truthful.

Tonight you and Eddie have movie night, something you both like to do when he’s just gotten home and in need of ‘his best friend time’ as he puts it. You went and hung out at family video for awhile, Eddie catching up with Steve and Robin while you browsed the new releases, finally settling on some b rated cheesy horror movie and some snacks.

Once back at Eddie’s trailer, you set up the movie while he puts the popcorn on the stove, and unbags the rest of the junk food, while grabbing two beers out the fridge for you both. Throwing the popcorn in whatever big bowl he can find, he makes his way to you, with his arms full.

“Alright, you ready?” He motions to the tv with his head, while trying to gently place everything on the coffee table. “I have a feeling this is gonna be really gory, but yeah I’m ready.” You say before shoving a couple kernels of popcorn into your mouth, “it’s okay, peach. You know if it gets too scary you can always hold onto me.” He beams with a smug smirk. The use of his childhood nickname for you, makes your cheeks bloom a bright red, though it wasn’t out of embarrassment, but an overwhelming sense of pride that no one other than you, knew this side of Eddie, this sweet gentle side. You knew one day he’d get a girlfriend and she’d see this side plus so much more, the thought made your stomach twist in knots but couldn’t think about that, for now you would savor the moments you two spend together.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You jokingly say, you rarely join in on Eddie’s flirting so when you do, it always catches him off guard. He side eyes you with a small smirk. “So, do you wanna smoke before I press play?” He asks while rubbing his palms on his Jean clad thighs. “Yeah, we can smoke.” Smoking with Eddie usually consists of you taking one hit while he kills the rest.

Correction, you took two hits this time, while Eddie took a couple more than you, before putting the joint out in the ashtray and discarding it off to the side, while pressing play on the remote. Something in the air felt different this time, you couldn’t put your finger on it but there was a tension you were never aware of before. Eddie kept sneaking glances at you, but when you’d look, his eyes would be on the screen, aside from the two times his eyes didn’t look away fast enough. You wanted to ask him if something was wrong or if you had something on your face, but the weed almost made you feel stuck or maybe you were too afraid of what would come out of the conversation.

After sitting in silence watching teenagers be picked off one by one, by some psycho killer as you sipped your beer and every once in a while grabbed for a candy or some popcorn. You took one last glance at Eddie, your eyes met but he looked away almost immediately back onto the screen.

When you looked back at the tv, the scene in front of you was a rather erotic one. The couple were in a car at some type of ‘lovers lake’ spot, the girl was bent over the middle console sucking the guys dick, while his head was thrown back on the head rest.

“What does that feel like?” The words leave your mouth before you are even able to grasp what it was you actually asked. “What?” Eddie asked as his eyebrows furrowed. “Getting head, what does it feel like?” You already asked, might as well find out the answer. “Um, well I mean it feels good.” He says, his eyes meeting yours as he white knuckles his beer bottle, taking a swig. “Mmm, I’ve always wanted to try it.” You don’t know what has come over you, almost like the weed has some type of truth serum in it, you couldn’t stop word vomiting your every thought.

Eddie almost spit out his sip of beer, but instead he swallows it harshly before choking. You sit up and pat his back, while laughing. “Shit, are you okay? Here, put your hands up.” You say as you try to help him lift his right arm into the air. “He pulls his arm away while rubbing his chest, “I’m alright.” He says gently, “you just, you can’t say shit like that, peach. Not to me.”

Now your eyebrows furrow, because what the fuck? He’s your best friend, he can talk about different women all day long and how he fucks them side ways from Monday, but you inquire about one sexual question and now it’s “you can’t say shit like that to me.” You roll your eyes and turn your body towards the tv, huffing out a breath in annoyance.

A couple minutes pass by before Eddie is knocking you out of your thoughts. “Listen, peach I-I,” you cross your arms as he talks, before you cut him off. “Eddie, it’s fine just drop it.” Eddie didn’t know how to drop shit, so you knew that wasn’t gonna happen. “Look at me.” He said with a domineering tone, making you turn your head almost immediately. “Listen, I just- I understand you’re curious and as your best friend I shouldn’t be weird about you, ya’ know experimenting and all that but, I don’t know the thought of some creep seeing you like that, I don’t know it just pisses me off.” He says through gritted teeth. “I get it Eddie, you look at me like your little sister or something.” You say as your head snaps back to the screen, screams booming from the speakers as one of the girls tries to outrun the killer.

“A sister?” Eddie says almost as low as a whisper, “I don’t think of you like a sister, peach. If I had a sister I definitely wouldn’t hang out with her as much as I do with you.” His words make your stomach flutter. “You don’t?” You ask in surprise. “No, no I don’t” Eddie says before taking another swig of his beer. “Well, so why does the thought of me doing that with someone piss you off?” You’re genuinely confused now. “I don’t know, it’s just you're so innocent about shit like that, and I don’t want someone taking advantage of you or..” he trails off before you begin talking, “okay? Well I mean I want to learn, I don’t wanna be a virgin forever.” You say as you roll your eyes. “And you will, just make sure he’s the right guy, ya’ know?”

“Isn’t the purpose to be good before you find the right guy?” You snort, “not necessarily.” He says back, while meeting your eyes. “Not many guys want a girl who doesn’t even know how to suck dick, correctly. Let alone a boring virgin.” You gloomily say while shooting him a bittersweet smile.

“Cmon peach, you’re more than your sexual status, you know that right?” He tilts his head closer to you, doing his best silly face to make you laugh, it worked just like it always did. “There she is.” He smirks.

A couple more minutes pass by before you say the words you’ve been wanting to say for so long, no more overthinking it. “Eddie?” You whisper, capturing his attention as he turns to look at you, “can you teach me?” His eyes widen, his mouth slightly drops open and it moves like he wants to say something but the words are stuck, until finally he’s able to get them out “Y-you want me to teach you?” He says in disbelief.

“Well, I mean I trust you more than anyone, and I’m sure you know what you like, so why not?” You shrug and then turn your head back to the tv for a second before you find his eyes again. “Are you sure about that, peach? I mean I want you to really know what you’re asking for here?” His knee begins bouncing before he’s reaching for the leftover joint in the ashtray. “I’m a big girl Eddie, I know what I’m asking for.” You smirk at the fact that you’re able to fluster him like this. “Okay, so you know the only way I can teach you is by, uh by showing you right?” You’ve never seen him this nervous before, maybe you should’ve done this earlier. “Yes, Eddie. How else would you teach me?” You raise an eyebrow, as he lights up the joint and takes a hit.

“Fuck, peach are you positive you wanna do this? I don’t wanna like fuck up our friendship or make shit weird between us.” He stares into your eyes, a look of genuine concern on his face as the smoke bellows from his mouth. You can’t help the insecurities bubbling up inside of you,“Eddie, if I'm not good enough to suck your dick, then just say that.” Your shoulders slump against the back of the couch, you look away because you can’t bear the rejection.

“Not good enough? What the fuck does that mean?” He says while scooting himself closer to the edge of the couch, trying to see your face from where he’s seated, you don’t answer. “Hey!” He almost shouts with that same domineering tone from earlier. He grabs your cheeks, almost pinching them, making your mouth fall open in an “o” shape. He turns your eyes to meet his, “look at me when I’m talking to you, peach.” His dominant voice gets softer at your nickname, the whole thing has you feeling butterflies somewhere else.

“You wanna learn? Okay then, get on your knees for me, and I’ll teach you. Just call me Mr. Munson.” He says with a cackle, making you laugh along.

You get up from your spot and take a couple steps, now standing in front of Eddie’s wide opened legs, he’s now sitting with his back flush against the couch, knees spread. You sink down to your knees, and look up at him for direction. He stares at you for a couple seconds, while his chest rises and falls.

“Okay, first you’re gonna unbuckle my belt.” He says with a low gruff voice, somehow you were able to undo the belt from the handcuff buckle, rather quickly.

You didn’t need to be told how to take his pants off, unbuttoning and unzipping them with fervor, before you put your thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and plaid boxers, but before you began pulling them down, Eddie stopped you— “hold on, baby.” He breathily says as he puts his heavily tattooed hands over yours, “I uh,” his hands are trembling, everything feels like too much in the moment, he’s never called you baby before but also, why is he so nervous? You know he’s gotten his dick sucked more than he probably even remembers yet here he is more nervous than you.

“Peach, I-I uh, you know I really care about you, right?” His gaze is stirring something inside of you, the adoration in his eyes, clear as day. “Yeah, of course I know that, Ed’s. I care about you too.” You beam up at him, from your spot between his legs.

He removes his right hand from yours, bringing his thumb to your jaw, gliding it against your skin inching closer towards your lips, Eddie rubs the pad of his thumb over your pouty bottom lip, moving it back and forth until his finger stops abruptly. “Open” was all he had to say for you to obey, you open.

His thumb instantly on your tongue, you didn’t need any more instruction as you took his thumb into your mouth and sucked.

“Fuck” Eddie panted while holding your gaze, “you’re so fucking pretty, peach.” He took a few more heavy breaths before he continued, “I’ve always wanted to see you like this.” You can’t believe what he’s saying, ‘he’s always wanted to see me like this? Since when?’ But that’s a question for another day, you want this too bad.

Instead you shoot him a little smirk, “are you ready Mr. Munson?” You say in a seductive tone. “Y-yeah, I’m ready baby.” He laughs at the title he threw around earlier. Your thumbs take up their old position, slowly pulling his boxers and black jeans down to his knees. Eddie’s cock springs out, at attention. You don’t know much about dicks but he looks painfully hard, almost purple and throbbing while the tip leaks clear beads of precum, it makes your mouth water.

You reach for his cock, wrapping your dainty hand around his huge length. Eddie moves to sit up more, as if he needs to see everything you’re doing, “mmm, spit on it baby.” He softly commands as he bites his bottom lip. You get higher up on your knees, mouth a couple inches above his cock, letting a glob of spit fall out of your mouth and onto his angry tip.

Eddie shudders, before he continues his instructions. “Good girl, now rub the spit all over the head and shaft before you start the hand job, it can kind of hurt when it’s dry.” He says before yanking up his band shirt and pulling it up over his head, throwing it over the armrest of the couch.

Your eyes rake over his upper body, as you continue to pump him, his array of tattoos, some you’ve seen some you haven’t, along with nipple rings, yeah you’ve never seen those before. Fuck, he looked so good. You continued to gawk until your eyes met his, his cocky smile looking down at you, knowingly.

“See something you like, peach?” His cocky smile turned into a toothy grin. “Maybe” was all you said before taking his tip into your mouth and lightly sucking. Eddie’s hand flies to your hair, gently taking a handful, “fuck, I didn’t tell you to do that yet, did I? You’re supposed to be a good girl and listen, okay?” He says before pulling you off of his cock. “First I want you to lick from my balls up to the tip, do you understand?” He says while he has your hair pulled back and chin pointed up towards him, almost face to face.

You’ve never seen Eddie this way before, so in charge, so demanding, almost mean but so sexy.

You do as he asked, licking a strip up from his balls to his tip, out of pure curiosity you licked the new beads of precum just to taste, “fuck, you’re such a good girl” he growls, the praise going straight to your pussy.

“Okay baby, now I want you to do what you did before, put your mouth around the tip and suck.” You waste no time, putting the tip back into your mouth and sucking a little harder than before. “Fuck, just like that. Now, look up at me, peach. I need to see those pretty eyes, baby.” When you look up at Eddie, you want to commit the sight in front of you to memory and use it every time you're alone in your bed at night. His eyes were lust filled, his jaw was slack, his head was tilted down as he watched you through his lashes.

“Good girl, peach!” He groans “okay, now take it a little deeper, yes! Fuck that’s it, baby. Just like that.” You couldn’t help it any longer, you were so turned on, you snuck your hand inside your shorts, grinding down on your fingers as they slid across your soaked clit. You continued bobbing on Eddie’s cock, he gathered your hair up in a makeshift ponytail as he controlled your movements.

He was trying so hard not to push your head down and begin fucking your throat, like he was use to. No, he had to be gentle with you, his little peach. In high school, he had this fantasy almost nightly, you sucking his cock, on your knees all cute and innocent. Fuck, he felt like a pervert back then because of it. But now, it’s really fucking turning him on, and he’s more than okay with that.

He sits up slightly as he notices your right hand has disappeared, “are you touching yourself?” He asks with a wide eyed gaze. “Yes, I can’t help it, you’re so sexy.” You whine, not even realizing what you said.

“Oh?” He smirked, “you think I’m sexy?” His hips buck, making his tip hit the back of your throat, gagging you. “Fuck, I think you’re so fucking sexy, keep playing with your little pussy baby, cum for me.” He panted, “I wanna see your face when you come, peach. I need to see it.” You slid his cock out of your mouth as you began rubbing your clit harder, “mmm, oh fuck.” You moaned out, eyes rolling back.

“You sound so pretty, too. Can you take your shirt off for me, peach? Can I see your tits?” He begged, you slipped your hand out of your waistband, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head, then you unclasp the black bra that cupped your boobs perfectly. Eddie, doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

You pull the bra from your body, and throw it at him, as you giggle. “Goddamn,” he said under his breath as he sat up to get a better look, left hand lazily stroking his cock. His right hand reaches before he pulls it back, “can I- can I touch?” He asks softly. “Yes, you can touch Ed's.” You say with an innocent bat of your lashes.

He used both hands to grab handfuls of each breast, squeezing and pinching at your nipples. “You really are so beautiful, you know that?” He asks, as he looks over your body and face.

“Yeah? You think so?” You ask as you reach for his cock, missing the way it felt between your fingers and in your mouth. “Oh, I know so.” He chuckles

“Teach me more, Ed’s? I wanna make you cum.” You whisper as you move your head closer to his cock, he can feel your breath on him, but it’s your words that are really doing it for him. He never thought he’d hear you like this, no matter how many times he’s fantasized, but now that he has, he’s addicted. He wants to be your first everything, he has to be.

“Fuck, keep touching yourself with my cock in your mouth, baby.” He whimpers, sitting flush against the couch again, with his head thrown back.

You stuff him back into your mouth, sucking and licking while your hand finds its way back into your shorts and over your clit.

“Yes fuck! Deepthroat baby, breathe through your nose and swallow, look up at me. Fuck yes, Jesus your mouth feels so fucking good.” He scrunches his face up in pleasure, letting out little “fucks” and “shits” as you took him deeper in your throat.

“Mmm alright, spit on it again.” He says as he takes his cock in his hand, slapping your bottom lip with it. You do as you’re asked, “fuck yeah, I like my head sloppy, baby.” You can tell he’s antsy and wants to cum and you’re right behind him, as you continue to rub yourself.

“Take your other hand and wrap it around the middle. Mhm, perfect peach, now I want you to put your mouth on me again, just the tip and a little bit of the shaft, yes just like that, fuck.” You’d do just about anything he asked of you right now, especially if he continues with those moans and his sweet words of praise.

“Okay, now I want you to twist your hand and go up and down, while you suck.” At first it was hard to keep the same rhythm as your hand, but you quickly got the hang of it. “Oh fuck! Oh my god baby! You’re fucking perfect.” He begins bucking his ups up towards your mouth, spit covering your hand as you continue your ministrations on him.

you’re so focused on making him feel good, you forgot about getting yourself off.

“Look at me, baby.” The sight of your tear stained cheeks and glossy eyes, got him. “I’m cumming, fuck!” You take it all into your mouth not letting even a drop go. “Holy shit, peach.” He growls “swallow it.” He demands, while watching you. “Let me see.” Another demand. You stick out your tongue, to show him you did as you were asked.

“Good girl, now get up here and let me make you cum.”

Thank you for reading! 🍑

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

A continuation of Bad News First, Eddie. I am absolutely floored by the responses I received, and I will try my best to tag everyone who asked. I know it's not Eddie's part, but chronologically, Wayne's part felt right.

Of all the things Wayne’s been called, unobservant isn’t one of them. He’s lived in Hawkins his entire life. He knows who is who, what is what, and to keep his head down and believe there’s a cougar in the woods when he’s told.

So, when Nancy Wheeler shows up, asking questions, Wayne has answers. Is willing to give those answers because he remembers when little Will Byers went missing, and how Nancy and her friends had done more to try and find him than the entire police force of Hawkins. Nancy and her friends always seemed to be in the orbit of whatever terrible thing was happening in Hawkins these last few years.

So, foolishly, terribly, he doesn’t intervene. He thought they were like that Scooby Doo cartoon Eddie used to love; kids solving mysteries. If he’d known the true extent of the horror, he wouldn’t have let those kids go it alone. But he didn’t know then.

Still didn’t know the day he pretends to not know who Dustin Henderson is while swapping out Eddie’s missing poster. It’s easier than having to face someone who knows Eddie, someone who had been looking for him but failed to find him.

Until Dustin calls after him. Until Dustin speaks to him. Hands him Eddie’s necklace. Wayne can’t stand anymore, this breaks him. Dustin says he was with him, in the end. Calls Eddie a hero, said people would have loved him had they known him. It’s nothing Wayne doesn’t already know.

Eddie is his hero. He loves Eddie. And if he’d stepped in sooner, chased down these kids and asked just what the fuck was happening, maybe he could have changed the ending of this story.

Hawkins explodes into a hellscape days later and Wayne sets out to find Nancy Wheeler. If Eddie gave his life to protect these kids, then Wayne must strive to do no less.

Nancy’s got a good head on her shoulders, willing to accept any help offered. He can see how she’s survived this long. She gets in in touch with Hopper, who introduces him to Doctor Sam Owens and Lt Colonel Jack Sullivan.

He doesn’t think it’s fair that the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-old girl.

It’s Dustin who tells him the whole story, the night before the end. Either Eleven will win tomorrow, or she won’t, but the outcome gets decided then.

“I’m s-so sorry, Mr. M-Munson. We just… just left him there!” Dustin breaks down crying and Wayne reaches out to him, an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. If Wayne sheds a few tears, too, well. Who can blame him?

“Doctor Owens, a word,” Wayne pulls the man aside after the kids have gone to bed. “Dustin said… my boy is just yards away from our trailer. He didn’t even get out of the park. I understand it’s an all hands on deck situation, but can anyone be spared? Can anyone bring my boy back? I’ll go myself if I have to.”

Doctor Owens, a genuinely kind man, Wayne can tell, has tears filling his eyes just at the request. “Mr. Munson, we will do everything in our power to bring your boy home.”

Doctor Owens pays for the headstone. Said it was the least he could do since his team failed. Wayne tries not to be bitter about it.

The graffiti starts up almost immediately. Wayne doesn’t understand why.

He thinks he’s caught someone in the act, grabs roughly at the perpetrator and yanks. The Harrington boy stumbles up and back, a little bit of fear in his eyes but no paint in hand. He’s holding a rag and small container of paint thinner. A quick look between Harrington and the grave, he can see the half-cleaned headstone.

He’s never spoken much with Harrington, but Dustin has nothing bad to say.

“You know my boy?” because he can’t bring himself to say ‘knew’ just yet.

Harrington looks just about as haunted as Wayne feels when he says, so quietly, “Not as well as I would have liked, sir.”

Wayne is observant, but even he can admit it takes longer than he thought to figure out Steve Harrington. That boy had put himself between those kids and danger again, and again, and again, and lived. Eddie did it once and… well, Wayne reckons Steve thinks it should have been him. He won’t say so out loud, but Wayne sees a lot of his younger self in Steve, knows him in much the same way he knows himself.

Steve lives with a guilt he shouldn’t; this was Eddie’s choice. His reckless, dangerous, courageous choice. And they’ve got to learn to live with it. Steve’s parents are absent, and Wayne’s nephew is gone. Without any conscious decision about it, they’ve adopted each other.

Steve wants to know everything about Eddie. Every little story Wayne can come up with. And he, well, he loves that someone wants to know. Wants to remember Eddie with him.

“Bad news. I regret not knowing him sooner,” Steve confesses to him one day as they scrub the headstone clean again.

“Good news. You know him now,” Wayne replies.

“Do I?”

Wayne can’t answer that. Not honestly one way or another. How well can you know someone from secondhand information? Steve spent a total of five days in his nephew’s company but he helps keep his memory alive. “I don’t know. What I do know is that Eddie Munson won’t be forgotten when I die. And that matters.”

He gets in an accident at the plant. He doesn’t remember what happened, not fully, but he knows that Steve never left his side. Demanded his come stay in his big empty house. Easier to move around in, with all the open space.

Wayne wasn’t really attached to his apartment anyway. If he was going to live the rest of his life in a home that had never known Eddie’s presence, it could at least be with someone who had known Eddie’s presence, however briefly.

Wayne wonders if he’s done the right thing sometimes. Indulging Steve’s need to know Eddie. At first, he thought it was fine, because learning about Eddie seemed to alleviate Steve’s guilt. But now.

He’s watching the boy fall in love with a ghost.

Helping it happen, even.

Robin and Steve aren’t nearly as quiet or subtle as they think, and Wayne’s observant. They seem to forget that Wayne’s just old, and not deaf and blind.

Or maybe, they’re comfortable enough that they don’t truly hide from him.

And it hurts his heart to think this (because he’s thinking it about his Eddie, wonderful, loving Eddie) but Steve deserves to love more than a ghost.

And then the kids graduate. Start to go to college. Steve acts fine, but he’s not. Wayne knows. It’s like he’s losing his purpose, but Wayne’s just as broken. Not strong enough to push Steve away. To make Steve go, too.

Honestly, he’s a little afraid that if he tried, then Steve would follow right after Eddie.

So, he doesn't. He decides he needs Steve, and perhaps even more so, Steve needs him.

Then, five years after Eddie’s death, the call happens. It’s about his piece of shit little brother, Wyatt. He’s gotta go, though. Because this is one last strand of Eddie. Eddie’s mother has been gone longer than Eddie, and fuck, Wyatt deserves to know. Wayne doesn’t claim to be a saint; if his brother wasn’t being released, he’d probably never tell him. He’d let him die in that prison believing his son is alive.

He doesn’t even know if Wyatt will care that Eddie’s gone. But he’s got to find out.

Steve drives him to the airport and no matter how many times Wayne says he’s coming back, Steve doesn’t seem to believe him.

But it’s not his shitty little brother waiting to greet him in Tennessee. It’s Eleven.

“Sorry for the lie, Mr. Munson,” she says. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I learned but Doctor Owens said that, this one time, we needed to be right before we could be honest.”

It’s Eddie. It’s Eddie Wyatt Munson, who looks at him shyly, almost as if afraid, from the apartment doorway Eleven takes him to. “Hey Uncle Wayne.”

It’s five fucking years too late but he pulls Eddie in a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much, you little bastard. Don’t you ever, ever do this to me again.”

Wayne learns.

They had found him, barely alive. It was better, they said, to take him away. Let the town cool down while Eddie healed, but he was catatonic for the better part of these last five years.

“Eddie woke up empty,” Eleven says softly, apropos nothing sitting next to Wayne as they watch Eddie discuss next steps with Owens. “He could be told to do things. Drink this. Eat that. His eyes never focused on anything. Doctor Owens called him a shell. I asked what that means. He said that Eddie’s body worked, but his mind did not because Eddie was not in his own mind anymore. But I knew he was in there. I had to get him back.” She reaches a hand out, waving in the general direction of Eddie’s head.

This surprises Wayne. “You brought him back?”

“Memory by memory,” Eleven says, picking at her pants leg. “Even the painful ones. Doctor Owens says every memory shapes who we are, even tough ones.”

Wayne looks at Eleven, a young woman of nineteen now, but remembers how scared and brave she’d been at fourteen. “Words cannot express how thankful I am for you.”

“I did it for you. And maybe a little bit for me.”

Wayne makes a humming noise. Not truly questioning, but an acknowledgment of what she said. If she wants to share her reasons, he won’t stop her. He’s just not going to pry.

“I chose my friend. I chose Max.”

He knows. “You made the right choice.”

“I know. I am not guilty about it,” she frowns as she thinks about her words. “But Dustin is my friend, too, and I knew Eddie was his friend. But I cared more about Max. I had to do all I could to make it right. For you. For Dustin. For me.”

Wayne doesn’t have words, so he just pulls Eleven into a hug. It must convey all he needs because when she pulls back, she beams at him.

Wayne fills Eddie in on what has happened as best he can. It’s such a jarring difference, speaking to Eddie about Steve than it had been speaking to Steve about Eddie. Eddie just looks confused for most of it and doesn’t really ask followup questions, but Wayne understands. Eddie had known Steve for five days and he’s got time to really get to know Steve now. Steve thought all he’d ever have of Eddie is someone else’s memories.

“Just give him a chance, Eddie,” Wayne says.

“Give him a chance? As if I’d waste it,” Eddie breaths out, all wonder and awe and- Well, maybe Wayne isn’t as observant as he had always thought. “He took care of you when I couldn’t. He cares. I don’t think there’s a chance I wouldn’t give him.”

“How long have you had a thing for Steve?”

Eddie stutters over his words, eyes wide and wild. “That’s not- why would you think- when have I ever!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know this about you?” Wayne chuckles and lies, as if he hadn’t just watched all the pieces slot together in this moment.

“So, we’ll be living with Steve Harrington?” Eddie is blushing but he blows past Wayne’s question. “Will he… be okay with me being there?”

Steve’s been loving a ghost, is what Wayne thinks. Steve’s been in love with a ghost and this. This is a ghost story that can have a better ending. But he’s not going to make those declarations for Steve, so what he says is, “yeah. Steve and I had each other when we needed it. Now I need you, so Steve won’t mind at all.”

Eddie smiles to himself, pulling a strand of his hair to hide his face behind.

If he hadn’t just figured it out two minutes ago, that would have been a dead giveaway that his boy might be a little bit in love with Steve.

He calls Steve. Tells him he’s coming home and bringing a guest. Steve says that’s fine, he’ll fix up Robin’s old room into a guest room.

“This isn’t the way to the Harrington house,” Eddie observes from the passenger seat of the rental car Doctor Owens had paid for, to get them from Indianapolis back to Hawkins.

“Steve won’t be there. He comes here when he’s overwhelmed.”

“The cemetery?”

Wayne shrugs, “we both come talk to you. Steve always starts with the bad news, you know. I think you should start with good news. Just this once. Ah. See, there he is.” Wayne points and Eddie’s eyes follow.

Something akin to wonder passes over Eddie’s face and he all but falls out of the car before it’s even stopped.

Wayne thinks he’ll give them five or so minutes before following.

#steddie #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #ok i promise next update will be eddie pov #i just wanted eddies part to move past this graveyard meetup #so waynes pov first #also eddies part could end up being the longest and more difficult part

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sidekick-hero · 4 months

Text

Love from the other side

(steddie | rated: M | wc: 6.2k | tags: Vampire Eddie Munson, Nurse Steve Harrington, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking | AO3)

"Steve, we've got a major crash on the Interstate. Multiple vehicles involved. You're on triage duty. Patients will be arriving in five minutes,” Robin, the head nurse in the ER, tells him in a calm voice. She's Steve's best friend, but even he's sometimes surprised at how calm Robin can be in critical situations. He's seen her fret over the prospect of asking out a girl she likes, and her freak-out before her first date with Nancy is now something of a legend between them.

But ask her to handle a crisis and she's cool as a cucumber.

Steve sighs and nods. That means it's going to be a long night. He's already been on for ten hours, two more and he could have gone home to his cat and his warm, soft bed. But they're understaffed as it is, and with so many new patients in unknown condition coming in, he'll be here for at least another five hours. Maybe more.

He makes his way to the triage area of the ER and braces himself for what's to come.

When he finally makes it home, the sun has already risen and he's dead on his feet.

He stumbles through the front door of his apartment and is greeted by Garfield, his tabby cat, who continues to weave through his legs as he takes off his shoes, almost tripping him. He meows pitifully at Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, you poor thing. You'r treated worse here than in a shelter. Warm and cozy and dry with a human to open your tins and feed you."

Garfield meows again, this time more demanding, emphasizing the urgency with which he wants food.

Throwing up his arms, Steve relents. "Fine. Heaven forbid I get to change into something comfortable first."

As soon as he places Garfield's bowl in front of him, Steve is all but forgotten as the cat digs in. "You're welcome," he says to his beloved little freeloader, not expecting a response. He's talking to a cat, after all, but it still helps make the apartment feel less empty.

And there's no one to judge him for it. Not since Robin moved in with Nancy and he had to find a one-bedroom apartment that he could actually afford on his own.

It's not that he begrudges them their happiness, far from it. But coming home to an empty apartment and talking to his cat instead of another human being got old pretty quickly. Worse than that.

It has become lonely.

"Pull yourself together, Steve, and stop whining," he chides himself, still talking out loud.

Steve sighs. He can see himself ending up a hermit with twenty cats who never leaves the house. Deciding it's best to just go to sleep before his thoughts turn any more self-pitying, he bends down to scratch Garfield's head and tells him, "I'm going to bed."

Garfield continues to ignore him as he sips the milk Steve has placed in front of him.

Steve is off for the next two days and spends the time mostly sleeping, doing laundry, and stocking up on food after realizing he didn't even have a slice of toast for breakfast.

He also goes over to Robin and Nance's for dinner, since he's not a hopeless hermit yet. Between the three of them, they go through three bottles of wine and end up swapping stories and inside jokes until his stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

It doesn't make coming back to an empty apartment any easier.

His next shift is another night shift, and it's surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. So far, the worst he has had to deal with is a nasty cut on a drunk frat boy's forehead after the guy fell through a glass door. Steve's still surprised he didn't hurt himself worse. Head wounds bleed like crazy, though, so he looked like he had been attacked by a serial killer when his equally drunk buddies carried him to the emergency room. Seeing that only one deep cut needed stitches, while the other, shallower cuts on his arms and face would be fine on their own, had put Steve in a surprisingly good mood.

So good, in fact, that he carelessly remarked to Carol, the other nurse on duty with him, "Looks like a quiet night for once."

You could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed his statement, and Carol looked ready to murder him. He had just violated the most important rule in any hospital.

Never, under any circumstances, say the "Q" word.

"Fuck. Oh God, I didn't mean..."

"Too fucking late, Harrington." Carol huffed before stalking off, probably to complain about him to her boyfriend, who was also the hospital director's son.

Less than twenty minutes later, all hell broke loose.

A dance floor at a local club had collapsed, resulting in several dozen serious casualties, all arriving on stretchers, crowding the triage area as Steve worked on autopilot. Assess, prioritize, assist.

In the midst of the chaos, another ambulance arrives and he goes over to talk to the paramedics about taking the patient to St. John's instead because they are at capacity, which really means they were past capacity an hour ago.

One look at the patient tells him there is no time for that,

The man on the gurney was only a few years older than Steve and had a gaping wound on his neck. He was white as a sheet and there was too little blood around a wound that looks like it hit a major artery.

"What the fuck?" He can't help but ask and the paramedic shrugs with a puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know, man. Found him like this and whoever called it in left before we got there."

Rolling their new patient in with hurried steps, Steve wonders if there was anything they could do. The wound needed surgery, and they needed to get blood and other fluids into the man as quickly as possible. Judging by the slow and shallow breathing and the sluggish pulse, his system has already started to shut down.

They lost him before they even got to the operating room. Steve doesn't even hear about it until hours later, when everyone who had been on the dance floor has finally been taken care of and a bone-deep exhaustion replaces the adrenaline-fueled energy in his body. He's not proud of it, but he's too tired to spare the news more than a brief burst of sadness.

Over the next weeks, seven more patients with gaping neck wounds come into the ER while Steve’s on shift, all drained of too much blood to make it past the first ten minutes under their care.

Whispers about a killer roaming the streets of Hawkins have started circulating as the number of victims rises steadily and Steve has started to sleep with a baseball bat under his bed. Just in case.

It’s early Tuesday night, four hours into his twelve hours shift, when another one comes in, this time a young girl around Steve’s age with long strawberry blonde hair and a pretty face. On her neck Steve can make out a gaping wound, just like the others had shown.

But this one is bleeding, profusely.

And the girl is awake, looking up at Steve with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hey, you’re safe, it’s gonna be okay, we’re going to take care of you,” he reassures her over and over as they make their way inside, ushering her to get surgery immediately. When he gives her his warmest reassuring smile she even tries her best to smile back.

Steve hopes she makes it.

She does. Against all odds, considering that the last two dozen victims with similar injuries have all died, she makes it.

Her name is Chrissy Cunningham, and when Steve reads the name on her file, he remembers her. She was a year behind him, a cheerleader. They never really talked much, but he remembers that she was kind and talked to him after everyone else on the team and the cheerleading squad had stopped doing so.

He's glad that she survived, and he promises himself that he will check in on her as soon as his shift is over.

If it hadn't been Chrissy, if it hadn't been someone he knew, he probably never would have met Eddie.

At the end of one of those weird in-between shifts at four in the morning, Steve changes into a pair of sweatpants and his favorite hoodie before heading over to the observatory area where they had to put Chrissy for now because a whole wing of the building is under construction due to some asbestos in the walls. She's already in stable condition, only needing fluids and antibiotics because they have no idea what bit her, so they're letting her sleep it off for now and hopefully find a room to put her in the next day.

The halls of the hospital are quiet at this time of night, especially outside the ER, and it's almost eerie. It feels like no one is here but Steve and the thought makes him shiver. All this serial killer talk is really getting to him, he thinks.

Reaching the area separated only by screens, he sees a figure standing by her bed. He can't make out much, but it appears to be a man, judging by his height, and he's leaning over the bed, talking softly to Chrissy. The man, if it is one, but the deep timber of his voice makes Steve think it is, is not wearing scrubs, but jeans and a hoodie, and Steve is pretty sure he's not hospital staff.

Suddenly, he remembers that something - or someone - must have inflicted the injury on Chrissy's neck.

"Hey, who are you, and what are you doing here?" he shouts as he runs over to the bed, and the figure turns to face him.

It is a man, with wide, dark eyes in a pale face framed by equally dark, messy curls.

"Shit, shit, shit," the man curses and bolts, moving faster than should be humanly possible. One moment he's staring at Steve like a deer in the headlights with his big bambi eyes, the next his shoulder slams into Steve, knocking him to the ground as the mysterious figure disappears from view.

He pushes himself upright and rises from the ground with a determined effort, because even though the guy doesn't look like it, it feels like he's been hit by a brick wall. When he regains his footing, he shakes off the impact and makes his way over to Chrissy to check on her.

She's awake, but too weak to sit up, though she tries.

"Shh, hey, don't strain yourself Chrissy, it's all right, he's gone. You're safe," he reassures her, a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving too much and aggravating her wound.

"No," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking her head slightly. Just when he wants to reiterate that yes, he's really gone, she continues. "He's safe. He saved me."

"What?" Steve asks, taken aback by her statement. He can tell that even the few words she has spoken have taken a toll on her, draining what little strength she has regained, but he can't help it, he needs to know what she means.

"He...saved me. Pulled him...off. Off me. Would have...killed..." she trails off, her eyelids fluttering shut and Steve lets her be.

Pulling up a chair, he sits down next to her to keep watch, just in case her savior decides to come back.

The next day Chrissy is more lucid. She's also in her own room and has already given a statement to the police when Steve comes in for his shift.

It doesn't matter though, he still has to ask her what happened, needs to know who the strange man was who continued to haunt Steve's dreams after he came home sometime in the early morning.

"I don't know who he is, Steve. He just showed up while Jason...while he," she is visibly shaken by having to remember the events of last night and Steve thinks he should tell her that it's okay, she doesn't have to tell him. But he doesn't. It feels like she needs to say it as much as he needs to hear it.

Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Chrissy continues, "While Jason was biting me. Mauled me, really. I think he would have torn my throat out if this man had not shown up. He slammed into Jason, ripped him off of me, and they both went down. There was a struggle, I could hear it, but everything hurt so much I couldn't move my head. It went on for a while, I don't know how long. Time was really weird. And then the guy was looking down at me, telling me to stay still, that he was going to call an ambulance, and that I just had to hang in there. He pressed something against my neck and it hurt so much, but the pain kept me there, y'know? So I wouldn't float away and never come back. He told me to stay with him and I did. Until we heard the ambulance. Then he told me he was sorry, but he had to go. And then he was gone and the paramedics took me away."

Chrissy looks very pale after telling her story, the dark rings under her eyes more pronounced than when he first entered the room. But before he can let her rest, he has one more question.

"What was he doing here?"

To Steve's surprise, the question makes Chrissy smile. "An apology, because this is no way for a lady to be left in the lurch."

Steve has no idea what to do with this information, so he just takes Chrissy's hand and squeezes it gently.

"You'll be out of here in no time, Chrissy. We will take good care of you, I promise."

"I know. Thanks, Steve."

He turns and walks away, leaving her to get back to sleep, knowing that it will be a long time before he will be able to do the same.

What the fuck is going on?

They find Jason Carver, or what is left of him, the next day. It's all over the news. No one knows why he attacked his girlfriend or who killed him. The reports leave out a lot of the gruesome details, just saying that he was torn to pieces when they found him.

Steve, of course, can't let that be all. He has to know what happened, so after his shift he sneaks down to the morgue to take a look at what is left of Jason, a guy he only knew in passing, since Steve had already left the school when Jason became captain of the basketball team, taking Steve's old position.

What he finds is a body that is badly mangled, just like the news said. There are deep wounds, chunks of flesh missing, his right arm torn from his shoulder. Though it's hard to swallow, it's not the first time Steve has seen a body destroyed almost beyond recognition. What makes him recoil from the dead man in front of him is the fact that Jason Carver's body is already decomposing as if he'd been dead for several days, maybe weeks, instead of not even 48 hours.

Steve leaves the morgue even more confused - and frightened - and heads home with the image of Jason's tattered, rotting body burned into his eyelids.

Over the next three weeks Steve sees four more victims with the same torn throats and bloodless bodies. None of them can be saved like they saved Chrissy.

He doesn’t see the mysterious man again.

It's late June when Steve's life changes forever.

The sun has only set an hour ago and the air is still warm as he walks home from his shift. Robin and Nance's car broke down the day before, and they live on the outskirts of town, so Steve gave them his car until theirs is fixed in a few days. The weather is nice and he doesn't mind walking the three miles to his apartment.

He's almost home, maybe ten minutes away, when he hears someone whistle.

There's a man standing at the entrance to an alley a few feet ahead of him, and since he's the only one around, Steve assumes it must be him whistling at Steve. The guy is hot, there is no way around it, about Steve's height with an athletic build and a haircut that reminds him of the 80's, his blond hair styled into a mullet.

"What's a pretty guy like you doing out here all alone?" The man asks as he gives Steve a slow look. It's supposed to be seductive, Steve thinks, but it just comes off as sleazy. Which is a shame, because the guy has a pretty face, long lashes, full lips, delicate features. Steve's also going through a bit of a dry spell lately, but he's not desperate enough to hook up with a slimy sleazeball like that.

"None of your business, really," he replies, walking a little faster than before. Something doesn't feel right, he thinks, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Aww, don't be like that, sweet thing. I just wanna talk, I swear." Steve is almost past the guy when their eyes meet and he feels himself freeze. "Why don't you come closer so I can smell you better?"

Even as he thinks, "What the hell is wrong with this guy?" he feels his body turn toward him and his feet propel him forward. He feels himself panic, but it's a distant thing, like an itch under his skin that he can't reach no matter how hard he scratches.

When he's in front of the stranger, so close that their chests almost touch, the man leans in and sniffs Steve's neck like a dog at a slab of meat. He hums deep in his chest and Steve feels the wet touch of his tongue against his skin. It's enough of a shock that he can get his body to react, to fight back, but it's no use. The moment he moves, the man growls menacingly at him.

With his feet still rooted to the ground, Steve feels like he's underwater, his senses dulled and his limbs heavy, weighed down by the tons of water around him. He fights it with all his strength and it takes all he's got to put his hands on the man's chest and push him away.

It's not even close to a hard push, but the man clearly didn't expect Steve to fight back at all, so he stumbles back a bit anyway. Unfortunately for Steve, it only makes him angrier.

"Looks like you got some fight in you after all. Too bad I don't like my food to fight back," he snarls, and before Steve knows what's happening he feels his back slam into the wall behind him, darkness surrounding them on all sides.

He struggles against the hands holding him down, but it's no use, their grip steely and unyielding.

The once pretty face has turned into something twisted and ugly, a grotesque imitation of a human face, and when the thing in front of him opens its mouth, all Steve sees are teeth. Long, sharp teeth.

Steve screams, but not a sound comes out of its mouth.

As those teeth sink into his neck, the face of the man who saved Chrissy's life pops unbidden into his mind. Steve has seen it in his dreams more than once, and it's strangely comforting to think of it now, in what Steve is sure will be his last minutes alive. As if this is all a fucked up dream and Chrissy's mysterious savior will come for him, too.

White hot pain races through his body from where the thing that looked like a man sunk its teeth into him and it's only that pain that makes him believe what he sees next.

One moment he's in mind-numbing agony, almost wishing for death to come and end his suffering, and the next the oppressive weight of that thing is gone, its teeth no longer in Steve. With nothing holding him up, he crumples to the ground, his head dazed and his body shaking like a leaf.

To his right he hears the sounds of a viscous battle. Growls and snarls, flesh hitting flesh, flesh hitting brick, the sound of bones snapping. He's too weak to even turn his head, and part of him is glad for that.

The fight seems to go on forever and Steve feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His heart has stopped pounding and his pulse has slowed to about 60 beats per minute, which is good. Not too slow, his system is still going strong. It was cardiac arrest after immense blood loss that had killed the other victims, but so far that doesn't seem to be Steve's fate.

At least not if the wound on his neck that is still slowly bleeding is taken care of soon.

He doesn't dare press his undoubtedly dirty palm against it yet. Hell, he's not even sure if he can lift his hand that far. But something has to be done about the bleeding, sooner rather than later.

As if his savior had heard his thoughts, there is a final, stomach-churning sound of flesh and bone ripping, followed by silence, the fight finally over.

And then there he is, as if his mind had conjured him, the man who saved Chrissy. The man with the big brown doe eyes and the pale skin and the messy curls. There's blood on his face now, and... other things Steve doesn't want to think about.

Steve is safe now, he feels it deep in his soul. He doesn't know how he can know that, how he can trust a complete stranger to keep him safe, but he does. His eyelids flutter shut, the tension finally draining from him completely.

A cool hand on his cheek and a warm, deep voice, tinged with what sounds like fear, pull him back.

"Hey, no, no, no. Steve, you need to stay here with me, okay? Stay with me, sweetheart."

"You know my name," Steve mumbles, fighting the heavy rocks that weigh down his eyelids as he looks at the pretty face in front of him. His eyes dip lower and there's more blood on the man, his clothes torn and his skin exposed. "You're hurt."

"You're very observant, Stevie. Come on, we gotta get you to the hospital. You'll be as good as new in no time." He smiles at Steve and Steve is helpless not to smile back. There's the tease of a dimple forming in his cheek and Steve lifts his hand with Herculean effort to touch it. When the man notices the gesture, the dimple forms fully, deep and alluring. A cold hand catches his before it reaches its target and Steve whines in protest.

The man chuckles fondly. "Here, lemme help you," he says, bringing Steve's hand to his face, the dimple still waiting for Steve to touch it. The skin is soft under his hands and cold too, like it's a winter night and not the end of June.

"I'm gonna pick you up now, Stevie. It's faster than waiting for an ambulance. Just close your eyes and we'll be there before you know it."

Steve feels himself lifted from the ground into strong arms and instinctively turns his head into the man's chest, enjoying the vibration of his soft laughter at the gesture against his cheek.

Then they're moving, and fast. One second he wonders how someone covered in blood and other unspeakable things can smell so good, and the next the lights of the hospital burn bright and painful in his blurry eyes.

"He needs help, now," he hears the man say to someone, his voice firm and demanding. It makes Steve shiver in his arms. And then he's placed on a gurney and his savior leaves with the whisper of cold lips on Steve's forehead.

It's only much later, when he's recovered enough to form coherent thoughts, that Steve realizes two things.

He doesn't even know the name of the man who saved him.

He never heard a heartbeat as his head was pressed against the man's chest.

Steve is released two days later and Robin insists that he stay with her and Nancy for a while. There's really no arguing with his best friend when she's got something on her mind, so he doesn't even try. He's too tired anyway.

His sleep is shit, plagued by nightmares of sharp teeth and blood and bodies being torn to pieces.

He also dreams of the mysterious man, and while these dreams aren't nightmares, they're still confusing, even unsettling, because they leave him feeling hollow. Like he has lost something. Which is ridiculous, the man was never his, he doesn't even know his name.

As he spends the next week at Robin and Nancy's, being pampered and doted on, he has no idea how close he is to learning the name of his savior. That and much more.

After finally convincing his best friend that he can manage on his own, that he needs to go home, that Garfield misses him even with Robin or Nancy stopping by to feed him, it is both daunting and a relief to see Robin's car drive away from where he stands in front of his apartment building.

The nightmares haven't stopped, and he admits that the prospect of being alone in his apartment scares him, but he can't live on his best friend's couch forever. Besides, even there, the nightmares would wake him up shaking and panting, waking Robin and Nancy more than once in the middle of the night. Alone in his apartment, he won't wake anyone with his whimpering and screaming.

Garfield is already waiting for him when he comes through the door, weaving through his legs and meowing at him. Surprised at how much he missed the tabby menace, Steve leans down and takes him in his arms, burying his face in the soft fur.

"Hey baby, sorry for leaving you alone for so long. But Aunt Robbie told me that she and Nancy took good care of you, playing with you and petting you. Probably spoiled you rotten, huh?"

Garfield meows again and pushes his head under Steve's chin, rubbing against him and purring like crazy. Steve smiles into his fur, thinking that he's glad to be home, even if it's still empty except for the purring cat in his arms.

He puts Garfield back down and makes him something to eat before heading to his bathroom to take a long, hot shower and change into something more comfortable. When he pushes open the door and steps inside, he is too stunned by the sight that greets him for any real reaction other than a sharp intake of breath.

On the floor is the man who has taken over most of Steve's dreams and many of his waking thoughts as well.

The man lies still and Steve can see dark stains on his clothes and he just knows it's blood. It could be someone else's, but somehow Steve is sure it's the man's own. Within seconds, he's on his knees next to the unconscious (please just be unconscious) figure, his knees smarting from the way he just fell onto them on the hard and cold tiles.

The man is on his stomach, his face turned to the side, away from Steve, so he moves to turn the man over. He's surprisingly heavy, a dead weight under his hands (no, no, no, not dead, just unconscious, his mind chants), but Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he finally manages to turn the man onto his back.

"Oh God," Steve groans as he can finally assess the damage. There are wounds all over his body, deep gashes on his thighs, his torso, his arms, even his face. "What happened to you?"

"Ten against one. Not...fair," the man replies, his voice barely audible and his eyes still closed. Steve has to lean in to make out the words, but him talking also means the man is still alive, though Steve isn't sure how much longer.

Taking the man's wrist, Steve looks for a pulse to see how far his system has already shut down, but... there is no pulse to be found.

He remembers not hearing a heartbeat when his cheek was pressed against the man's chest, so he presses his ear to where the man's heart is, waiting for the sound of its faint beat.

Nothing.

Steve leans back and searches the man's eyes, half-open now and clearly alive.

"How... you can't be alive. You don't have a pulse, your heart isn't beating." He is stammering, but it's a lot to take in. It shouldn't be possible. It's not like he wants the guy to be dead, but for all intents and purposes, he should be.

Bloodied lips pull back into a faint smile. "Sweetheart, not even the most beautiful sight like you could make my heart beat again. Although it really tries for you."

Despite everything, the way this guy flirts with him while he lies in his own blood brings a crooked smile to Steve's face.

"There, that smile? If it could, my heart would be beating out of my chest right now." Steve can tell the man is trying for levity, but he's fading and fast.

"As charming as you are, you're also bleeding all over my bathroom floor. With no pulse or heartbeat. And I don't even know your friggin' name! So forgive me for asking, but what the fuck?"

"Sorry for the blood on your floor, I tried to patch myself up, but I must have passed out. Embarrassing, really. Didn't think you'd be back so soon. I'd get out of your hair, but... well, you know. I don't think I can move." The words start to slur halfway through, and those beautiful brown eyes keep disappearing behind heavy eyelids. Steve has to do something, quickly, before his savior dies.

"Eddie," the man croaks, his voice barely audible. Steve wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the intent way he stares at him.

"What?"

"My name. Eddie."

"Eddie. Okay." Steve nods his head, the hand still wrapped around Eddie's wrist grabbing his hand instead, squeezing it gently. "Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital now."

It looks like Eddie tries to shake his head, but gives up halfway, exhausted. "No. They can't help me."

"But they can! Someone needs to sew up your wounds, and you've lost too much blood, you need a blood transfusion and fluids and - why are you laughing?"

"You're right, I need blood, but not the way you think."

The image of sharp teeth flickers behind his eyelids, a gnarled face snarling at him. The feeling of those teeth buried in his neck, white-hot pain shooting through his veins.

"What... Eddie, I don't..."

Eddie's face turns toward him, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath, as if smelling the air.

"Come closer so I can smell you better."

Two different voices growling and snarling, not just one.

Strong arms lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, carrying him nearly three miles. "It's faster than waiting for an ambulance."

"You're not human." Steve whispers. It's not a question.

Eddie answers it anyway. "No, I'm not."

"You're... You're a..." He can't say it, can't even think it.

"A vampire, yes." Eddie says it for him and everything falls into place. The neck wounds, the drained victims, the sharp teeth and the inhuman strength and speed.

"You want my blood." Steve has no idea why he's stating the obvious instead of running as fast as he can, but something tells him he's still safe with Eddie.

"So observant." Eddie chuckles, but it sounds wet and weak. "Yeah. But I won't take it, don't worry, Stevie."

In his mind Steve goes over the things he knows.

Eddie is a vampire. A vampire who killed another vampire to save Steve’s life. To save Chrissy’s life.

Eddie is dying. He may already be dead, but it looks like vampires can die again. Permanently.

Eddie wants his blood.

"Would it help you? My blood, I mean." That's the only thing he's not sure about. The most important thing, at least.

It looks like an inhuman - invampire, Steve thinks - effort, but Eddie manages to shake his head firmly.

"Steve, no."

"Would. It. Help?" Steve insists.

Eddie, the stubborn asshole, presses his lips together and refuses to look at him. That's answer enough for him.

Still holding Eddie's hand in his, he lifts his other hand to Eddie's mouth and presses the inside of his wrist against the closed mouth.

"Come on, Eddie. Drink." Another shake of the man's head only strengthens Steve's resolve. "Eddie, please. You saved my life. Let me do the same."

The stubborn ass continues to refuse, so Steve does the only logical thing. He stands, grabs his razor, and slides the blade across his wrist, just deep enough to draw blood from the otherwise shallow wound.

He presses the wrist back against Eddie's lips and this time he feels the man tremble.

"Please drink. I want you to. Let me help you." Moving his wrist and smearing his blood over Eddie's full lips, Steve pleads again, his voice breaking. "Please, Eddie."

It's the last please that does it, and the next thing Steve feels is the white-hot pain of teeth sinking into his wrist. Still smiling through the pain, he squeezes Eddie's hand. "That's it, you're doing so good. Take what you need."

And Eddie does. He drinks and drinks and drinks until the world goes fuzzy and black spots start dancing in front of Steve's eyes.

"Eddie," Steve slurs before everything goes dark.

When Steve comes to, he's in his bed.

His wrist is wrapped tightly in a pristine-looking white bandage, and he's wearing his pajamas. He has no idea how he got here or what happened, everything is kind of blurry. Steve tries to sit up, but almost immediately the world starts spinning and he groans in protest.

That's when the door to his bedroom opens and his mysterious savior walks into the room with a bowl in his hand.

Eddie, his mind supplies. His name is Eddie and he was dying the last time Steve saw him.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks him, his voice full of worry and he gets a sad smile in return.

"Stevie, I'm the one who should be asking you that." Eddie sits down next to him on the bed but doesn't touch him. He looks tense and Steve wonders why. Though most of what happened is a blur, he remembers holding Eddie's hand and Eddie calling him beautiful.

"I'm fine. A little dizzy, but fine. You were the one bleeding all over my bathroom floor. What happened, how are you even standing, how long was I out?"

Eddie reaches out and takes Steve's cheek in his hand. "You saved my life, Stevie. That's what happened. And you almost got yourself killed, you self-sacrificing idiot. So even though it saved my life, I have to ask you, beg you if I have to, to never do anything so stupid again."

Steve puts his own hand on top of Eddie's hand on his face and looks him in the eye as he tells him, "You saved my life first and risked your own as well. So I guess the pot is calling the kettle black here."

He's rewarded with a dimpled smile. "Fair point. Now that we're even, can you promise me you'll never do anything like this again?"

"I dunno. Can you promise not to try to save me again if I'm in danger?" He knows it's a low blow, but if it helps him get his point across, he's not above playing dirty. Besides, part of him really wants to know. The needy part, the scared part.

"You know the answer to that," Eddie says, brushing his thumb across Steve's cheekbone.

"Isn't that a little unfair?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, and Steve realizes he's so much closer than before. "But I don't care if it keeps you safe."

Steve feels his heart thunder in his chest, his eyes darting from Eddie's to the other man's lips and back again. Licking his own lips, Steve asks, "And why is that?"

Eddie's lips are only a breath away from his own, and he tastes his answer as much as he hears it.

"You know that answer as well."

Before Steve can say anything else, Eddie's cool, smooth lips seal over his and every thought in his mind is forgotten. There's only Eddie.

Later he'll ask about the other vampires. About all the dead people in the emergency room. He'll ask who Eddie is, why he's running around town saving people, and who hurt him so badly.

But all that can wait, at least until Steve is done drinking down the delicious sounds falling from Eddie's mouth.

This is a little birthday gift for my dear friend @yournowheregirl. Alice, I know you love vampires so I tried my best to give you some. Time ran out on me but I still hope you like it 💜

I hope you had the best birthday ever because you deserve nothing but happiness.

Edit: I forgot while posting to say that this is heavily inspired by a wonderful podcast I highly recommend, Not quite dead. Give it a listen folks!

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #Nurse Steve Harrington #my writing

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corroded-hellfire · 10 months

Note

practically begging for a drabble in the universe as as you wish where they finally get the place to themselves and don’t have to be quiet

You say drabble, @munson-blurbs and I write over 5k words. Please enjoy this little glimpse at what happened right after part one 🥰

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m and f receiving, older!eddie, babysitter!reader, breeding kink

Words: 5.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eating outside in February in Indiana wouldn’t be your first choice, but when your last class gets out after everyone else has had time to claim indoor spots to chow down, you’re forced to eat your lunch at the picnic table that’s getting most direct sunlight. At least you’d been able to grab a nice hot bowl of soup to keep you warm. The sun comes out from behind a cloud, and you think that maybe your luck is changing when you look up and see Peter strolling over to you.

“Not again,” you groan under your breath.

“Hey,” Peter says as he takes the seat opposite you. His smile looks genuine enough, but you know it’s hiding the smarmy intentions beneath.

“Hi,” you reply before shoving another spoonful of soup in your mouth.

“Aren’t you cold sitting out here?” Peter takes his hands out of his pockets and blows his hot breath on them.

No, I’m perfectly comfortable, you moron, you think to yourself. Peter is a nice enough guy, but ever since he started hounding you about why you wouldn’t go on a second date with him, he’d been insufferable. Why couldn’t he just let it go?

“A little,” you admit. “Couldn’t find a space inside.”

“My car is parked just over there,” Peter says, nodding his head in the direction of the parking lot to your left. “You can eat in there; I don’t mind.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine here.”

Peter sighs and tilts his head to the side as if he’s a confused puppy. “Why are you afraid to be alone with me?”

You almost choke on your latest sip of soup. “Afraid? I’m not afraid, Peter. I’m alone with you right now, aren’t I?”

Peter shrugs and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“So, why no second date then?”

The moment the words leave his lips, you drop your spoon into your bowl with a clang and bring your hands up to rub over your face.

“Peter,” you say with a deep sigh, “we’ve been over this.”

“I just want a straight answer from you,” Peter says, as if this isn’t something you’ve already given him many times over.

“How about a list?” you snap, unable to hold back your frustration any longer. “You talk with your mouth full. You called nursing a ‘girl major.’ You stared at the waitress’s chest the entire time she was at our table. And when the people next to us started speaking Spanish, you mumbled something about learning to ‘speak American.’ Which, Uncle Sam, isn’t even a God damn language. So,” your voice is rising and attracting the attention of other students, but you couldn't care less, “if you would kindly fuck off, maybe you can leave with your testicles intact.”

With that, you gather your food and rush off to the nearest payphone. Your fingers, still slightly numb from the cold, dial the number as though on autopilot. To your utter relief, he picks up.

“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Eddie speaking.”

It’s been two days since you two hooked up, devouring each other carnally in his bed while his wife wasn’t home, and you were left unsure about how to proceed. Yes, Eddie had confessed that he had feelings for you–feelings much deeper than the lust that had consumed you that evening. But, as with anything, there were consequences to these actions. And what if the consequence was that he no longer wanted you around? That you only served as a painful reminder of the way he broke his marriage vows?

“Yo? Anyone there?”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to speak into the receiver. “H-Hi. It’s me.” You bite your lower lip and cringe. Me? How the hell is he supposed to know who ‘me’ is?

“Hey,” Eddie says, and you could swear there’s relief flooding his tone. “How are you?”

The concern in his voice mixed with the fact that he knew it was you simply by a stuttering greeting has you flustered and gripping the phone even tighter.

“I’m okay,” you manage. There’s a beat of silence before Eddie replies.

“Are you?”

“Do you remember that time you told me if I, uh, wanted to bail on something, or…”

“Is someone bothering you?” His tone is firm but kind and it reminds you all over again of why you fell for him.

“More annoying than anything,” you admit.

“Is it that prick you went on a date with months ago?”

Did you mention that recently? Or did Eddie remember that from when you told him a few weeks back?

“Unfortunately,” you say.

Eddie sighs. “Jesus, take the hint, pal.”

“Oh, he’s had more than hints,” you tell him. “He’s been given very direct answers multiple times.”

The only sound that comes from the other end is the faint banging and scraping from the garage. You lick over your cold, chapped lips as you wait for him to say something.

“Where are you?” he finally asks.

“Having lunch on campus. It was peaceful at first.”

This time there’s no silence as Eddie quickly shoots back with, “Do you want me to come get you?”

“Only if you’re on your lunch break. I’ll even buy you something to eat,” you offer. “What are you in the mood for?”

“You.”

The answer and how he gave it so immediately has your face burning despite the bitter breeze blowing outside. You shuffle your boots on the ground and take a self-conscious glance around, as if someone could hear what he just said to you.

“Eddie,” you lightly admonish.

“Love when you say my name.” The way he clears his throat after the admission has you wondering if he meant to say it aloud at all. It gives you butterflies either way. “Be there in twenty, pretty thing.”

Before Eddie gets there, you grab two sandwiches for you to split. To save yourself any possible embarrassment, you pretend that Eddie’s infectious grin is more for the food than it is for you.

It’s more difficult to do this when roaming eyes accompany his smile; the chocolate hues soaking in every last millimeter of your body. “Hi,” he murmurs, reaching over to help you with your seatbelt. You don’t need any assistance, and he knows this, too, but it grants him the opportunity to brush his fingers against yours.

“Where to?” he asks, unwrapping his sandwich from the thin plastic covering and taking a bite. The nickname ‘baby,’ is on the tip of his tongue, but he has to hold back. At least until the two of you figure out what the fuck is going on.

“Home, please,” you say softly, tearing off a piece of your own PB&J. You silently curse yourself for getting such a childish sandwich, but considering the way Eddie’s practically inhaling his, he doesn’t appear to be bothered.

He’s only driven a few blocks when he breaks the awkward silence, leaping right onto the back of the elephant in the room. Or car, rather.

“So, um, about what happened on Saturday,” Eddie starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“I know…you’re married.” You lower your head, too heavy with shame. He’s going to say that I shouldn’t babysit the boys anymore. He’s going to call it all a huge mistake. “It never should have happened.”

You feel your head move slightly as Eddie takes his forefinger and turns your chin to face him. “But it did. And I’m not mad about it.” His voice is firm, confident…it’s something you’ve never witnessed before when he’s talking to his horrible wife.

“…you’re not?”

Eddie shakes his head with a small smile, unable to hide his amusement at your obvious surprise. “Not even close. I’m only mad that we can’t, y’know, actually be together.” His hands grip the steering wheel tighter as he says it; it can’t be a coincidence.

But we can, you think, pressing your lips together in an effort to silence yourself, just leave her and be with me.

Instead, you nod and mumble, “I know.” You take another small bite of the sandwich, hoping the sticky peanut butter will glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth and keep you from saying something stupid and clingy.

Eddie looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you…do you regret it?”

It’s a loaded question. Do you regret letting Eddie Munson fuck you in his marriage bed—the one he shared with his wife—splitting you open while moaning about how good you felt? Not at all. Do you regret that it stirred up feelings that can’t be reciprocated because of his marital status? Absolutely.

“No, I just wish…” you trail off, forgoing your original thought, lest it sound like an ultimatum. Instead, you pose a question of your own. “Saturday night, when you told me you cared about me…how did you mean that?”

He sighs, coming to a complete stop at the stop sign. Throwing the car in park, he turns to you with a look of longing and desire.

“Like this.” Eddie leans in and kisses you, tucking his upper lip under yours. His hand caresses your cheek, and he finishes it off with a soft bite to the plush of your lower lip.

The honk of an irritated driver snaps you both from your passionate stupor, and Eddie uses his right hand to shift gears and his left to give a one-finger wave. You assume that that’s the end of the conversation until he speaks again.

“I’ve cared about you since I saw how great you were with my kids,” he admits. “Tried to convince myself that it was just because, y’know, if something happened to you, it would affect them, but…”

“But?”

“But it was so much fuckin’ more than that.” He doesn’t have enough time to list all the ways he cares about you, the ways he dreams of loving and protecting you. “And now that I really know you, shit, I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

Eddie stops the car again, ignoring the angered shouting of the person in the vehicle behind you as he turns on the flashers. Before you can open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, his lips are on yours again. His large hands cup your face, the callouses giving you goosebumps as they glide over the soft skin of your cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach seem to float up into your head as you feel lightheaded when the two of you separate.

Not wanting to truly bring that wall down and let him see just how much this is affecting you, you attempt to play it cool—hide how flustered his tender kiss has you.

“And, uh,” you say, clearing your throat before you continue, “what you said about wanting to hear the noises I make…?”

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes darken, and it ignites a fire in your otherwise cold body. He leans in towards you and his voice is low and silky as he says, “I wanted to hear every. Single. Sound.”

It’s getting more difficult by the second to restrain yourself when he makes you want to climb into his lap right then and there.

“And do you? Do you, um, still want it?”

A groan comes from deep in his throat as his eyes never leave yours. “So fucking bad, baby.”

The intense hunger his eyes hold almost has you snapping and throwing yourself at him, but you manage to hold onto that last single thread of restraint you have. Instead, you figure this would be better in a place that isn’t being invaded by the frigid air or when anyone could look in at you two since you’re still in the middle of the road.

“Is anyone at your house?”

Instead of giving you an answer, Eddie puts the truck into drive and presses down on the gas pedal so hard that you think it will fall through the floor of the car. The sudden speed has you pressed to the back of your seat, and you laugh at how impatient he is to get you back to his place.

“Fuck, I love that laugh,” Eddie mumbles more to himself than you.

When you get to the house, it’s so hard not to tear into one another on your way to the front door—even with the biting chill in the air. But there are neighbors and the last thing that needs to happen is someone assuming anything is going on between Eddie and the babysitter and make Brittany out to be some kind of martyr.

As soon as the door is closed behind you though, Eddie has his chest pressed up against your back, his warmth seeping into you.

“Fuck, baby, I don’t know where to touch you first,” he growls in your ear.

“How about…here.” You reach down for his hands and bring them under your shirt. Sliding them up your tummy, you settle his palms right on your breasts. There’s a big goofy grin on Eddie’s face as he gently squeezes at the bra-covered flesh.

“Love these, sweet girl.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head drop back against Eddie’s shoulder as he fondles you.

“You have any idea how many times I thought about your hands on me like this? And other ways?” you ask, your breath bitching when his thumb brushes over your nipple.

“And what about your hands on me?” Eddie asks before pressing hot kisses against the side of your neck.

“Mmm, thought about that too,” you admit. “But I mostly thought about my mouth on you.” You unzip his coveralls and drop to your knees, pushing his boxers down so you can take him in. Precum pearls at the tip of his cock, threatening to drip down the shaft along the thick vein that runs through it.

You wrap your hand around the base, giving kitten licks to his leaking slit.

“Don’t tease me, please,” Eddie whines, cupping his own balls briefly just for the extra sensation.

You move them out of the way, settling in a bit more. “You mean like this?” you ask salaciously, pressing little kisses along the underside of his erection before sliding your tongue along it.

The man whimpers like a damn puppy, clenching his fists and flexing his thighs in a feeble attempt to hang onto his sanity.

“O-Okay, yeah, please, fuuuuuck,” he groans as you take all of him into your mouth. His legs twitch, and his knees nearly buckle and have him crumpling to the ground. “Yeah, right there…shit, thas’ perfect.”

Eddie’s pretty moans encourage you each time you bob your head and envelop him in the warmth of your mouth again. One of his hands rests gently on the top of your head; not grabbing or forcing, simply resting there as if he needs to be touching you in every possible way that he can.

“Christ,” Eddie says with labored breath as he looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ve imagined those pretty lips wrapped around m-my cock so many times. But fuck…nothing beats the actual sight of it. Love watching as I disappear inside your sweet little mouth.”

His words have you moaning around his cock, sending delicious vibrations throughout his body. It’s enough to have him teetering on the edge. The hand that isn’t resting in your hair comes up and rubs over his face as he drops his head back and stares at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Whimpers spill from Eddie’s lips like a prayer, and you start to move your head faster, trying to let your jaw hang looser.

“Shit, baby,” Eddie manages through panting breaths, “I-I’m not gonna last.”

Keeping up your motions, not pausing for a moment, you moan around him to let him know what you want. You’ve dreamt — both daydreams and sleeping dreams — about him finishing inside your mouth and you need it to come true.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. Another moan around his throbbing dick is how you deign to respond. “So close, princess. Being such a good girl for me—shit. My sweet girl has such a sinful tongue.”

His words have you practically dripping, and you need nothing more than for Eddie to peel your soaked panties off of you. One of your hands slides up and cups his balls, which has him practically keeling over.

“Fuck! Babe, I’m gonna—I’m gonna, shit, I’m cumming.”

Eddie’s warm release fills your mouth, and the tangy taste is like heaven on your tongue. You make sure to milk him for everything that he’s got before you pull off and swallow it all. A little bit dribbles down the side of your mouth, but you catch it with your thumb and pop it into your mouth, making sure to get every last drop.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, trying to catch his breath. “C’mere.” He tosses his coveralls and boxers aside and helps you off your knees and into the bedroom. “Show me that perfect fuckin’ body of yours.”

Anyone else ever saying that to you in your life would make you self-conscious and be tempted to hide yourself. But Eddie makes you feel safe and desired in a way you never thought possible. He wants to see you like this. It’s a dizzying thought.

You comply, heat blooming up your body towards your face as his gaze is trained on you while he makes himself comfortable up against the headboard. Every little movement, his eyes track it. It’s like you stripping down bare is a class he has to take and he’s the most studious student there ever was. By the time you’re slipping off the last offending item—your drenched panties—you’ve already forgotten that the heap of your clothes is there at the foot of the bed.

Crawling up the mattress to him, you’re about to straddle his waist when he shakes his head. He scoots down a bit so his head is resting flat against his pillow.

“Want you to ride my face, sweet girl.”

The request catches you by surprise and you can’t help the pinch that forms on your brow.

“Are you sure?”

Instead of a sexy or witty remark, Eddie looks you dead in the eye so you know how serious he’s being. “If you don’t sit on my face right now, I will die.”

Leave it to Eddie to bring the theatrics into the bed with you. Still, you give him a skeptical look as you raise an eyebrow.

“You might die if I do,” you say.

“Bullshit,” Eddie says as he reaches for you. Despite your reluctance, you let him pull you up higher towards his mouth. Eddie knows you though and can tell there’s something else you want to say. He looks at you imploringly, doe eyes blinking up at you.

“No one’s ever even eaten me out before you did,” you admit. It surprises Eddie, but he puts a pin in that for later—right now he really needs you to sit on his face.

“Well, let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, babe.” He gently tugs you up so that your pussy is hovering over his mouth. “Now, I’m gonna eat you out, and I need to hear your beautiful noises, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck,” he moans as he wraps his hands around your thighs and lowers you onto his lips. His tongue glides through your folds and fucks in and out of your hole. You seize the opportunity to grind your exposed clit against his nose.

“Eddie, feels s’good,” you whimper.

Eddie moves away for a second, and you frown at the loss of sensation. “I know you can be louder than that,” he grins before resuming his previous position.

Nerves flood your body. You’re not used to being loud during sex; no guy before Eddie had even given you that urge. You will yourself to relax and let him take care of you, your hands gripping the headboard as you ride his face.

“Yes, Eddie! Holy fucking shit,” you cry out, feeling his hold on your thighs tighten. “You’re gonna make me cum all over your face.”

Eddie just gives a muffled hum of approval, moving his tongue but keeping his head still so you can keep rhythmically pressing your clit against his nose. His tongue is magic, fucking in and out of you like he can’t get enough.

Your release hits you hard, and you lean back to brace your hands on his thighs as you ride out your high, practically screaming your moans loud enough for Peter to hear back on campus. Ironic that his persistence for a second date drove you into the arms—and bed—of another man.

You keep whimpering “Eddie” over and over again as you come down, a pathetic little mewl that has him melting. He gently lays you on the bed and hovers over your gorgeous body, pressing kisses to your lips, smearing them with your own slick.

“Love how you say my name, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a slight growl in his voice. “Also love how you taste.”

The word “love” plays on a loop in your head. You want to hear him say it about you. You want him to make love to you, not just fuck you. Could that fantasy ever come to fruition?

The touch of Eddie’s hand on yours interrupts your longing thoughts. He brings your palm to his cock, and you instinctively wrap your fingers around the hardened length.

“Got me hard again, baby,” Eddie hisses, “like a damn teenager or somethin’.”

You can’t hold back any longer, and the words spill out of you. “Inside me, Eddie,” you plead. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg, but I’d be lying if I said I hated it.” He smirks, watching as your hand glides up and down his erection. He hasn’t been this turned on since…well, since he came home to you wearing his clothes two nights ago.

“Please, need you inside me, wanna feel how nice you fill me up.” You open your legs wider, and Eddie situates himself between them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for some friction.

He’s got one hand on your right breast, the other holds his cock. “Ready for me?”

“Yes, yes, God yes.”

You feel him push into you, and you instinctively arch your back. His calloused hands slide around your waist as he gives slow, gentle thrusts until bottoming out.

“How’s that? Y’good?”

“So, so good.”

His thrusts get deeper and more intentional, and he grins when he hears the small moans escaping your lips.

“E-Eddie?” Your voice is a strong whisper; it’s all you can manage with the way he’s pounding into you.

“Yes, princess?” A shiver snakes its way down your spine at the nickname. Princess. You’re Eddie’s princess.

You stumble over your words, flustered by the new pet name and anxious about how your next request will be received. “Can you, um, say what you said the other night?”

Eddie’s brow furrows in confusion as his hips keep a steady pace, unruly thatch of pubic hair deliciously grazing your clit. “I said a lot the other night, baby,” he chuckles. “You’ll have to be, uh, a little more specific.”

You try and push away the embarrassment, reminding yourself that you’re safe with Eddie. “When you said y-you were going to fill me so good and knock m-me up,” you try again, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation of a bad reaction.

Eddie groans and gives an involuntary hard thrust of his hips. “Holy shit, you’re telling me you like that?” He throws his head back when you nod. “Fuck, baby girl, you have no idea how hot that is to me.”

“So hot,” you agree with another feeble nod of your head.

Eddie grips your waist and flips the two of you so he’s leaning back against the headboard and you’re in his lap. “Shit, Princess. You want my babies, huh? Want me to fill you with my cum, huh? Won’t let any drip out of you, gotta keep it all in there.”

Your eyes practically roll back in your head. All you want is his babies, to walk around with a swell to your belly because Eddie Munson fucked you until he got you pregnant.

“That’s it,” he continues through gritted teeth, “I know you can take it. Such a good girl, wanting all of my cum.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Munson,” you whimper pathetically, “I’m your good girl.”

Mr. Munson has his brain short-circuiting, and his hips snap upwards at a rapid pace. He wants this to last forever, but the way you look and feel has him on the edge of release once more.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum. Call me ‘Mr. Munson’ again, baby,” Eddie pleads, pupils blown wide as he begs to hear your beautiful voice.

“Mmm, want your babies, Mr. Munson!” You watch as he throws his head back at the sound of your moans, keeping his frantic pace. “Ri-Right there! Yes, yes, yes!”

The two of you come down from your highs together, you slumped against his chest and his hands resting on your bare back.

“M’pretty sure that’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” Eddie finally manages through heaving breaths.

You peek up at him with incredulous eyes. “Really?”

“Hell fuckin’ yes.” He leans down and presses soft kisses along the expanse of your neck. “Everything about you turns me on so ridiculously much. It’s insane. The more I learn about you, the hotter you get.”

You grin to yourself and nuzzle your head against his chest. “Was the best for me, too,” you admit.

“Yeah?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow in disbelief. There’s no way he can compete with the younger guys throwing themselves at you…is there?

“Are you kidding?” You look up at him with a shy smile. “All you have to do is look at me and I get wet.”

“Good to know,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. He turns away for a moment before whipping his head back around, peering at you dramatically. “How ‘bout now?”

You press your lips to his in what’s supposed to be a romantic kiss, but your smiles get in the way.

“Hey, uh, did you…” he starts, clears his throat, and then tries again. “Was I really the first guy to eat you out?”

You nod, downcasting your eyes in embarrassment. “No one ever offered, but I never asked or anything, so…”

Eddie takes your chin in his hand and pulls your gaze back to him. “You never have to ask me,” he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. “I love being able to make you feel good. If I ever turn down eating your pussy, call an ambulance, because I clearly need medical attention.”

Giggling, you go to rest your head on his shoulder when you catch sight of the clock on his bedside table. “Oh, I have to go get the boys,” you say, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“Pretty sure we left a trail of clothes around the house. You go get the troublemakers; I’ll clean up.”

You nod and lean up to press a tender kiss to his lips. He cups your face in his hands and just stares. “Don’t want to let you go,” he murmurs, just short of a whine.

“I won’t be long,” you whisper against his lips.

“Hurry back,” he calls out dramatically, but he’s only half-joking. All he wants is you in his bed, tangled in the sheets, touching each other like you’ll never get enough.

You reach for your purse and dig out your keys. “Wait, I don’t have my car. You picked me up from campus.”

“Take my truck, baby,” Eddie offers, taking his own set of keys from the coveralls laying on the ground and tossing them to you. “We can take the kids to the park or something then the Munson men will bring you back to your car.”

“Such gentlemen.” You giggle when Eddie bows, still fully naked.

It feels like a scavenger hunt to find all the articles of clothing you’d shed, but you’re finally able to get dressed and dart out of the house to pick up Ryan and Luke from school.

When you return back, small Munsons in tow, the scent of just-fried bacon wafts past your nostrils.

“That is the best smell in the world,” Luke declares. He walks towards the kitchen as if he’s in a trance.

You follow behind him and Ryan and see Eddie washing a frying pan out in the sink.

“Daddy!” Luke clings to Eddie’s hips, surprised to see his dad home early. He squeezes him tight, and Eddie has to swallow his emotions before turning around to greet him.

“Hey, buddy.” He drops the pan and sponge in the sink and scoops Luke up and presses a kiss to his head, then ruffles Ryan’s hair.

“Bacon smells good,” Ryan says, peering at the counter where the strips lay on oil-soaked Bounty sheets.

“Thought it could be a snack for the ride to the park. How’s that sound?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

Both boys cheer, with Luke breaking out into some sort of kung-fu inspired happy dance. His little feet shuffle back and forth along the kitchen tile while his little hands punch the air.

Eddie just laughs and tells his sons, “Go change out of your school clothes and grab your heavy coats.”

Once they’re out of the kitchen, you raise an eyebrow at Eddie and speak softly to him. “Hungry after such a vigorous workout?”

“A little.” He chuckles and gives a shrug. “But really, I was paranoid that it would smell like sex in here.”

You giggle and cover your mouth, worried that you’re too loud. The last thing you need is for the boys to ask what’s so funny.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he whispers, kissing just under your earlobe.

Ryan and Luke come back into the kitchen before you can respond, so you just stand there flustered. It goes unnoticed, since the boys ramble on as the food gets packed up, sneakers are tied, and doors are locked.

“This is the best day ever!” Luke announces, opening the car door and climbing into his booster seat.

“I agree.” Eddie throws a wink in your direction, and your stomach does a flip as you buckle your seatbelt.

Maybe there is more than just lust between you and Mr. Munson.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #request #AYW #AYWS

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headkiss · 11 months

Text

you’ll always know me (pt. 2)

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie misses you too much when he’s away, so he comes home again and invites you to join him on tour. the two of you figure some things out, too.

word count: 12.2k

warnings: fluff, some angst (i’m sorry!), childhood friends to lovers, librarian!reader, still idiots in love, and a kiss!!!

a/n: hiii thank you guys so so much for all the love on part 1 of this one!!! i hope u love part 2 (the finale) just as much!!! i really really enjoyed writing these two and hopefully you enjoy it too!!! please let me know what you think <3

♫♩♪♬

It’s about a month later when Eddie has another break from tour.

Rather than hanging around wherever in the world he is for the short time like he normally would on the short breaks, he finds himself booking a flight to Hawkins. Sure, he’ll only be there for about 48 hours, maybe less, but he doesn’t mind.

He really, really wants to see you.

Considering how often he talks to you on the phone now, it’d be tough to surprise you this time, so he doesn’t. Last call, he’d told you he had a couple of days off, with a seed of hope in your chest, you’d asked him what he was going to do, and the happy cheer you made when Eddie told you he was coming home is something he’d never forget.

“Is Wayne picking you up?” You’d asked, knowing Eddie would rather not take a driver if it’s possible.

“He’s gotta work.”

“Why don’t I come get you, then?”

And, well, how could Eddie ever say no to that?

That brings him here, walking along the familiar floor of the Indianapolis International Airport, a beanie tucked on his head despite the weather, a pair of sunglasses over his eyes despite being inside.

He’s lucky that it’s not a busy time at the airport, that people don’t really pay him any attention whenever he’s closer to home. One day, that might change, but he’s glad for now, for the sort of peace it brings.

His suitcase is tugged along behind him, wheels spinning against the tiled floors, his legs are stiff from the flight, his neck has an ache in it from his nap, but the discomfort sort of melts away when he sees you.

Eddie suddenly feels more aware of himself than he ever has around you, the pickup in his heart rate louder than ever. He assumes that’s got something to do with those feelings he’s got for you. Feelings he’s had and only just recognized.

You're standing by your car right outside the doors with the ‘pick up’ sign hanging over them, sweater sleeves long enough to cover your palms and a sign (a flimsy piece of paper, really) with the word ‘loser’ scrawled in sharpie.

“You’re still my loser,” he remembers you saying, that night in his van. That night he kissed you and you kissed him and everything felt exactly right for just a minute.

A soft chuckle leaves his chest as he walks through the doors, and even with his poor disguise on, you know it’s him right away. A pair of black jeans, ripped in the knees, a faded band tee, and messy curls. So clearly Eddie.

You want to say his name as soon as you see him, shout it excitedly and sort of embarrassingly. Instead, you let go of your paper with one hand and wave, bouncing on your feet just a little.

Your best friend, the best boy you’ve ever known, back sooner than you ever could’ve hoped.

A smile splits your cheeks, and a mirrored expression spreads on Eddie’s face, his eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses with the force of it.

When he’s close enough, he drops his suitcase handle and rushes to you, his arms going around your waist and crumpling your piece of paper between your bodies. His hug knocks the air out of you in the best way possible, the smell of his soap and cologne hitting your nose; pine and sandalwood and smoke and something sweet like vanilla.

His hair tickles your nose and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Your arms go around his neck, face tucked against his shoulder.

“Hey, trouble,” he breathes. There’s something like relief there.

“Hi, Eddie,” you say, and it’s quiet enough that he’s the only one that could hear you. He squeezes you even tighter, his hug so crushing you’re standing on your tiptoes to stay in it.

“Thanks for coming.”

You’d go to a lot of places for him, almost anywhere. The Indianapolis International Airport isn’t all that special.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, then remember that you’re still in public, that he’s Eddie Munson, and that you’ve been hugging for a long time for something friendly. Clearing your throat, you pull away and tear the edges of your paper between your fingers.

“Yeah, yeah. Get in the car.”

He does, a smile still on his face, though it’s softer now, a little shy. As soon as you pull away from the airport, Eddie tugs off his beanie and sunglasses. He’s often the one driving when you’re together (or, he was when he was always in Hawkins), so he takes this chance to lean his head against the seat and watch you drive.

There’s a small squint in your eyes when you look at some signs, and then he’s thinking about how you’d look in glasses, morning eyes bleary behind the frames. Pretty, he thinks. You hum along to the radio and he’s joining in.

“You’re one-upping me,” you say when he does. “It’s kinda unfair, mister famous singer.”

It’s sort of crazy, how you can say something so simple, so out-of-mind, and it’s enough to wash away any ounce of worry Eddie had that things would be weird now. He guesses you two are too far in now for something like a kiss—the best kiss of his life, probably—to change anything.

Too far into your friendship, of course.

“Stop, we used to sing together all the time,” he says.

“That was before you got a record deal! Now it’s unbalanced!”

“This is the best part of the song, trouble,” Eddie reaches over and twists the volume knob, turning it up, “sing along.”

You’re shaking your head and you’re smiling and just like that you and Eddie are harmonizing on the bridge. It’s pitchy (on your part) and easy (on his) and it’s pretty perfect.

The sun sits lower in the sky by the time you’re in Hawkins, pulling into the trailer park. There’s an orange hue in the sky, fading into pinks and blues.

Wayne’s car still isn’t back from work, and gravel crunches beneath your tires as you park in front of Eddie’s trailer. You look over at him, the time spent in the car talking and singing and soaking in his presence like a plant in sunlight doesn’t feel like enough and it feels like everything at the same time.

“Welcome home, Eddie.”

He glances over at you like he has time and time again on the way, eyes flicking over your features even as you turn to look towards the sunset out the window.

“It’s good to be home.” His eyes are still on you.

Eddie tried to wait up for Wayne that night, but he seemed to be working way later than he should’ve been (some things never change) and Eddie was more tired than he thought.

He showered, laid down, and he was out.

He wakes up with hair even messier than usual, his arm stiff from where he’d been using it as a pillow, and indents from the blankets on his bare chest. Telltale signs of a good sleep.

Walking out into the kitchen, that smell of crappy coffee and the sight of his uncle has him smiling, “morning, Wayne.”

“My boy,” his uncle sets down his newspaper to greet him, pushing back and standing up to give him a proper hug, hand slapping his back affectionately. “Back so soon. You missed me that much?”

“Sure,” he says, pulling back and grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “I wanted to say ‘hi’ when you got back yesterday, but I was out.”

“I know,” Wayne chuckles a little, “I checked on ya and found you snoring.”

“I don’t snore!”

“You snore, kid.”

“You have no proof,” Eddie says, sitting across from his uncle the way he has forever. “What kept you out so late, anyway? Car giving you trouble?”

Sinking into his seat a little, Wayne fights a smile, “no, not a car.”

“Wayne Munson! Were you on a date?”

The thought has Eddie grinning. His uncle deserves someone, he deserves to be loved in that way and to be less lonely.

“I’m the parent here,” he says, though it’s clear in the out-of-character shyness that Eddie’s right, “I’m the one who gets to ask questions.”

“I’m happy for you,” Eddie says.

“Shut up and go to the library, I know that’s why you came back.”

Eddie never really stopped to think of the exact thing that pulled him back here so soon. Obviously he wants to see you, he always does, but that hasn’t always been enough to get him home, as awful as that sounds. This time, it’s like he was searching for an opening, any sliver of time so that he could see your face and hear your voice at the same time.

So, yeah, maybe that is ultimately why he came back. And maybe he abandons his coffee mug in favor of getting dressed and driving his van over to the library.

You’re going through your system and finding overdue books, calling people and having to stay sweet even when they’re cold with you. It’s your least favorite task of the job, probably.

Then, the door’s opening and when you glance up to see who it is, it’s exactly who you’re looking for. Eddie, spinning his car keys around his finger, humming softly.

“So, where can I find a book on rock ‘n’ roll?”

“Dork.”

It was only yesterday that he saw you, and still, you’re a total breath of fresh air.

“What, you’re not happy to see me?”

“Of course I am. What are you doing here?”

“Um, hanging out with my best friend. Put me to work, trouble.”

Best friend, best friend, best friend. The words tug at your heart in two ways. One: even though he’s met so many new people, he still considers you his best. Two: you’re only friends.

“Okay, here,” you pat the desk beside you where the phone sits, “you can call my overdue books for me.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He walks around the desk to go behind it with you, pulling over a chair from the closest table and sitting down.

For every phone call you ask him to make, Eddie puts on some sort of voice. A British accent for one, his terrible high pitched old lady voice for another. You’re hiding your giggles behind your hand and you’re definitely not thinking of what your boss might say to you if she found out.

It doesn’t matter, it’ll be worth it to feel this way. Like no time has passed at all, like you and Eddie are kids hiding out in his trailer with the phone book open making prank calls for hours until Wayne had to cut you off. It’s then and now mingling the way they do when you’ve known someone this long.

The door opens again right after Eddie hangs up the last call, right after you’ve looked at each other and burst out laughing because of the reaction he’d gotten on the other line.

“My stomach hurts, Eddie,” you lean back in your chair, and he wipes at his eyes, “stop making me laugh.”

“I can’t help it, I’m just so funny.”

You slap his arm lightly, shaking your head. “So humble, too.”

You sit up when whoever had walked in comes up to the desk, and you find a young boy and a woman who you assume is his mother.

“Go ahead,” she urges him.

Nervously, the boy steps forward, “are you Eddie Munson?” He asks, and it’s then you notice the small Corroded Coffin pin on the strap of his backpack.

Eddie doesn’t really get approached in Hawkins, usually. The people here didn’t really like him for a long time, for the most part, and then they just sort of seemed to accept it. He doesn’t mind one bit, though. He’s lucky above a lot of things.

“Sure am. What’s up, buddy?”

“Could I get an autograph?” The boy asks.

“Totally!” Eddie stands up, grabbing a sharpie and a piece of paper from your desk before walking around it to greet the boy properly.

He kneels down in front of him, gives him a fist bump and wears the kindest smile you’ve ever known. You’re basically a puddle, watching the interaction with fondness melting in your chest.

“Who do I make it out to?” Eddie asks.

The boy looks up at his mom, who nods at him, and he turns back to Eddie, “Frankie.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie. Sick name.”

Eddie uses his leg to write on the page, scrawling a small message that you can’t make out from where you sit. When he’s done, he looks back at Frankie and hands him the paper.

“There you go, buddy.”

“Thank you!” His smile is so wide, his eyes disbelieving as he shares a look with his mom.

“Thank you,” the woman says. “Sorry to bother you, have a nice day.”

“It’s no bother, no worries,” Eddie tells her, waving at the pair as they leave, “have a good one!”

When he turns back around to face you, you’re smiling all soft and adoringly and he’d sign a million autographs if you’d always look at him that way afterwards.

“What?” He asks, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“That was so cute, Eddie. Did you see his face?”

“What can I say, the people love me.” Eddie shrugs, playing it off. “Think you have some competition for number one fan, trouble.”

Yeah, right. If only he knew about that damn shoebox you have.

“Not a chance, Munson. That spot’s mine.”

It feels like you’ve blinked and you’re already driving Eddie back to the airport. Even so, you’re happy knowing that he came home again. It’s like that distance that had painfully wedged itself between you has been growing smaller and smaller, despite him being away.

With every phone call, every laugh, every utterance of the word ‘trouble’ in Eddie’s voice, something welds itself back together, healing over where miles apart had wounded it. Mending like a bone, fractured but never broken.

Beside you, Eddie’s been fidgeting with his rings, twirling them around his fingers as you drive. You’re not sure why, and you haven’t asked, because if he wants to, he’ll tell you and you’ll listen. He’s nervous, that much you know.

Eddie’s been thinking about asking you something for a while, and with how his gut twists when he thinks about not seeing you for months at a time again, he figures it’s worth a shot.

He wants to have you around when he’s doing what he loves, when he feels like he’s on top of the world. He wants you there and he thinks it might feel better than ever that way.

You drive up to the drop-off spot, pulling over and parking the car. Eddie turns to look at you, and you do the same so that you’re facing each other. He’s got a beanie on again, black with a small pair of dice embroidered on the front. There are dark circles under his eyes, and somehow his tiredness makes them shine even more, like the morning sun reflects differently.

“So,” he starts, dragging out the word. “I have a question for you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

Well, he’s gotta do it now, no matter the nerves or the fear of rejection.

“Will you come on tour with me?”

“What?” Is what comes out of your mouth because you’re not sure that you heard him right. Sure, you’ve seen him live plenty of times, but not at this stage of his career, not alongside him that way.

“I want you to come on tour with us, with me. We’re gonna be in New York for a bit, and you should be there.”

“Wow, Eddie, I- what about the library? Or traveling? I can’t afford-”

“A week,” he cuts you off, hand finding yours on the center console, his fingers weaving their way between yours so easily, like magnets finding each other, like it’s meant to be that way. “Come for a week, and obviously it’s covered, honey.”

You want to say yes, you want to shout it and kiss him again, really. Instead you worry a little. The library would be fine, you’ve yet to take any vacation days, anyway, but what if he regrets bringing you? What if he’s asking you on a whim and he doesn’t mean it?

“You really want me there?” You ask, gaze flicking down to your hand in his. His rings are cool against your skin, but his palm is warm, and when he squeezes, it’s an unspoken reassurance.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t, trouble. I promise.”

“You’re serious?”

You’re still looking at your hands, and that changes when Eddie ducks his head to catch your eye, his gaze is soft and serious all at once, his smile sticky sweet.

“I want you there. If that works for you, I want you there.” His thumb runs a pattern over your hand, back and forth again and again. “If you want to, you’re more than welcome, and I'll take care of it.”

You might not even let him leave if he keeps talking to you like that, delicate and kind with zero trace of doubt. None at all.

“Okay.”

“Okay, you'll come?” His hand is holding yours tighter, like hope spills from Eddie’s body and needs somewhere to go.

“Yeah, I’ll come. I’ll have to check with my boss, but-”

You’re cut off by Eddie’s arms pulling you into a hug. It’s uncomfortable, leaned across the center console, seat belt digging into your stomach, but you wouldn’t dream of pulling away.

“I’m so glad,” he says.

Your face is hidden in his hair, your smile hidden just the same. You’re glad, too.

“You’re gonna be late, Munson.”

He breathes you in again before pulling back, “trying to get rid of me?”

“Trying to make sure you don’t miss your flight.”

“I know. I’ll see you soon?”

He’s unbuckling his seat belt, pushing the door open, but he doesn’t move to get out until you respond.

“Yeah, you will. You’ll have to call me, though. I don’t know where you’ll be.”

“I’ll call you, honey.”

When he gets out and grabs his bags, when he turns to wave at you one more time before going inside, it doesn’t feel so bad this time. Your chest feels whole, your smile still on your face.

I’ll see you soon. It feels much better than a goodbye.

True to his word, Eddie covered everything. Your flight, booking the hotel, and more he probably hasn’t told you because he knows that you have a hard time accepting him paying for everything.

You’d even tried to argue it over the phone, and he’s said “too late, babe. It’s already done.”

Now, with a week ahead of you, you’re in New York City of all places, trailing your suitcase behind you as you exit the airport in search of the car Eddie said he’d send for you. Black, tinted windows, guy in a suit standing by it. It’s easy enough to spot when most people around are wearing sweats.

“Hi, you’re here for me, I think?” You say to the man by the car, telling him your name and getting a nod in affirmation.

“I’m Hank, nice to meet you.”

Hank takes your bag for you, even when you assure him you could do it. So, with nothing else to do, you open the back door and slide into the car, door swinging shut behind you. You’d fully expected to be by yourself, and okay with it, too, but you aren’t.

Right there in the backseat with you is Eddie.

You practically tackle him in the seat, surging forward to hug him, leaning across the leather to get to him. You’re not sure what carried you to do it. Maybe it’s the fact that he paid for everything, that he wants you to be here enough to do that. That he wants you here at all.

The wind is sort of knocked out of Eddie when your arms wrap around his neck, your hug crushing in his favorite way. He’s not complaining one bit. He’s so excited to have you here to see this world of his, for you to be able to see something you helped him achieve, whether you know it or not.

So, with a huff pushed from his chest, his arms curl around you, too. Smooth and easy.

“Happy to see me, trouble?”

“I thought you’d be busy,” you say, because his question is already answered with the tiniest squeeze of your grip around him. “And you jerk, you got me first class?”

You draw back into your seat when Hank gets back into the car, unsure of how much he knows or how much he’ll say. Not that you’re ashamed for hugging Eddie, but you’re afraid that he might read things the wrong way and you’ll have to (painfully, achingly) correct him the way you did with Argyle a while ago.

You distract yourself by tugging your seatbelt over and clicking it into place.

“‘Course I did. Had to get the best for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” you say, and looking at Eddie’s face you don’t feel so worried about Hank anymore. You practically forget he’s there. “But thank you.”

“Goin’ soft on me?”

His voice is teasing. He deflects because he can’t exactly tell you that he chose first class, that he covered everything, that he flew you out to him because he’s burying his feelings for you into it all, that it’s easier to do these things without you realizing what it means than it would be to come right out and say it.

He needs more time for that. Time to get brave, to see if you might feel the same. If you might let him kiss you again.

“Maybe I’m just tired. Getting delirious.” You’re really not, but just to be safe you add on a small jest of, “loser.”

Still, your tone betrays you, affection woven into the word.

You share a smile with him, eyes sparkling the way they seem to do when you’re with each other. The glow that only appears when you’re in the presence of someone you like this much, someone you know this well. It says enough.

Turning your head, you look out the window, skyscrapers surrounding you, the skyline flying by as you go. Your mouth drops open a little in awe, the busy streets and towering buildings a far cry from the small town you’re so used to.

While you peer outside, Eddie looks at your face in the reflection of the window, accomplishment blooming in his chest at the widening of your eyes and the look on your face.

Shit, he’s so happy to have you here.

It’s not long until you reach the hotel, the sight of the city enough to occupy you for the drive. Even from the outside, it looks expensive, and you’re about to tell Eddie you can’t let him pay for this again when he stops you, “I already paid for your room, so don’t say anything. Just enjoy it, okay?”

“You’re insane, Munson. Wow.”

He knows you mean it as a compliment; he can pick out the intentions from your voice with ease by now, he thinks.

“Wait until you try out the bed.” Eddie pulls on a beanie he’d had in his pocket, then the sunglasses that had been hanging from the neck of his shirt. “Ready to go in?”

“Hell yes. Need to wash the airport off of me.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie then turns towards your driver, “thanks Hank. And don’t worry about the bag, I’ve got it.”

“Of course, Mr. Munson.”

He opens his door and you follow suit, stepping out of the car and watching as Eddie gets your suitcase from the trunk.

“I can take that,” you offer, reaching for the handle as he walks you towards the entrance.

“Kindly, fuck off, trouble. I got it.”

You hold your hands up in surrender, a little too happy with the way his hand flexes around the handle of your bag, too happy with his insistence to do this simple thing for you.

Even though he doesn’t need to, he stands with you during your check-in process, and he carries your bag over to the elevators and down your hallway, too.

“This is you,” he says, stopping at your room even though you’re the one holding the key.

“How’d you know that?”

“‘Cause I’m right next door,” he says, grinning at you, “I booked it, trouble. We’re neighbors!”

“You’re such a dork.” You’re grinning right back.

The crowd’s cheers are piercing. Chants of the band’s name covering every other sound in the venue.

You’re backstage, watching them all warm up in their own ways. Gareth tapping his drumsticks together, Jeff shaking out his hands, Eddie bouncing on his feet. It’s a complete whirlwind of crew setting up, of commanding voices left and right and it’s sort of unbelievable to be standing in the midst of it all.

You move out of the way with an apology when a stagehand moves by you with a guitar. Eddie’s guitar, red and black and the same one he’s been using since he could afford the instrument. The familiarity of it has you smiling.

The memories that guitar must hold, you wonder, the places it’s seen.

With his guitar now over his neck, Eddie turns to you, energy practically rolling off of him, like every shout from the crowd charges him up further.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, stepping close enough to talk into your ear, over the screaming and the bustle of the crew. “So fucking glad.”

“30 seconds until you’re on, guys!” A woman wearing a headset shouts.

Eddie pulls back enough to look at your face, but he stays close, his nose inches from yours, his excitement somehow spilling from him and into you. It’s the sort of infectious feeling you get when it’s obvious someone’s doing what they love, when their passion is palpable.

“Break a leg, Munson.”

“Five seconds!”

“See you on the other side, honey.”

Eddie reaches for your hand, gives it a firm squeeze, and then he’s off, jetting onto the stage behind his bandmates. The crowd roars even lowder, enough to leave your ears ringing but you don’t care. You take it in.

It’s one thing to read about it, to see pictures, to see footage on TV, even. But seeing it for yourself is a whole new kind of crazy.

The size of the audience is a far cry from the shows they used to play at the Hideout, the words to the songs being known and sung just the way Eddie had always dreamed. The pride that swells in your chest is huge, a balloon expanding and expanding only you don’t think it’ll ever pop. There’s always more room to be proud of someone you love.

You stand side stage, exactly where Eddie had told you to. Just far enough that the audience can’t see you, hidden by shadows, but close enough that he can see you.

Eddie hasn’t felt this way at a show for a long time. Not to say he doesn’t love every show, because he does, but sometimes the energy will feel different, better, higher. The crowd is a great one, and even more importantly, you’re here.

You’re here and Eddie flicks his eyes over to you constantly during the show because he just can’t help it. The wide smile on your face makes him want to work harder to keep it there, the way you bop along and mouth the words to his music is something he’ll never forget.

You know the words. Of course, you’d known them to the early songs, when his only performances were in Hawkins and you were at every single one. But even now, albums later, you know the words.

And to top it all off, you’re wearing Corroded Coffin merch, a baggy t-shirt tucked into your jeans. God, he can’t stop fucking looking at you.

Between songs, he goes over to Gareth, and then Jeff, speaking into their ears without a mic so you don’t know what he’s saying. But by the gleam in his eyes, you know he must be up to something.

He walks over to the side of the stage where you stand, trading off his current guitar for his acoustic one, even older and worn than the last. The painted letters reading ‘this machine slays dragons’ scratched and faded by now.

You’d been there when he painted them on, giggling at the lopsided way they turned out, pouting when Eddie smeared paint on your bare arm in retaliation.

He’s gone from playing it in his bedroom in the trailer to playing it for thousands of people.

“Alright guys,” he starts, back at his mic. “We’re gonna slow it down for this next one, that sound okay?”

The response he gets is a wave of cheers.

“Alright, alright. Cool.” He starts strumming, chords you recognize right away. “We’ve got a cover for you tonight. I want to dedicate this song to my best friend. This one’s for you, trouble.”

Your eyes are misty with unshed tears. He’s playing your favorite song, the only one you’d ever learned on guitar because you forced him to teach it to you. Your hands go to your cheeks, warmth bursting through you at his gesture.

And he’d called you ‘trouble.’ Hadn’t used your name because this is something that’s just for you and him. Yours.

Eddie flicks his eyes over to you (again) as he sings, his hands moving with ease on his guitar because he’s known how to play this song for ages. Longer than his own songs, even.

His heart sort of melts at the expression on your face, dripping down his ribs in oozing, pink waves.

Even from where he is, even with the lights beaming down on him, he can see the tears in your eyes, the way your hands hold your face the way they do when you’re overwhelmed. He hopes it’s in a good way, and with the way the words of the song are broken up by a smile on your face, he thinks it is.

After the song, with a quick ‘thank you’ into the mic, Eddie walks offstage, towards you again, to switch his guitar back. Before he puts the other one over his neck, though, he rushes to you.

The arm that isn’t holding his guitar tugs you around your neck into a hug. He’s sweaty and breathing hard, his chest rising and falling where it’s pressed to yours, but you don’t care. You hug him around the waist and squeeze.

“Thank you,” you say, loud enough for only him to hear.

“Thank you, trouble.”

A kiss to the top of your head, and he’s off again.

Eddie’s back at the mic quickly, his guitar in place again. “Alright everyone, back to our regularly scheduled programming.”

After the show, Eddie brought you back to the green room with the rest of the band, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as soon as he ran off stage to tug you along with him. Insistent but kind in the way he did it, sure not to pull too tight, turning his head to check on you behind him along the way.

Even when you’re worlds away from his, from the fame and the constant travel and the fans, Eddie makes you feel like you’re a part of it. Like you belong here.

There’s a couch pressed to one of the walls in the green room, chairs set up around it for more seating, a table of snacks and water bottles set up near the door.

Conversations happen all around you, crew members, photographers, big paper writers, but yours is seperate.

After the well-deserved congratulations on a great show, you, Eddie, Gareth, and Jeff found your places on the couch, heads turned towards each other. You’re on the edge, Eddie next to you, his thigh, arm, shoulder, all squished against yours.

It’s nice. The warmth of his skin against yours, the post-show adrenaline that has all three of the boys in a great mood.

After all, Gareth and Jeff were your friends, too. Not in the way Eddie’s your friend, of course. You don’t think anyone could ever come close. Being with all of them reminds you of when you’d watch them practice in Jeff’s garage in high school, sitting sideways in a chair they’d left in there for you, legs kicked up on the armrest.

“What a show,” Gareth says. Eddie’s told you before that a good crowd makes a huge difference, and it’s clear in the way the three of them talk about it, the way they smile and shake their heads at what they’ve accomplished.

“I mean, someone flashed me their tits, so it’s definitely a good night,” Jeff, on the opposite end of the couch from you, sighs happily.

You scrunch your nose.

“Gross, dude.” Eddie leans over Gareth to shove Jeff’s shoulder. “There’s a lady present.”

“Come on! She hung out with us in high school. Peak outcast status.” Jeff defends himself. “She’s hardly a lady to me. No offense.”

“None taken, Jeff.” You lean forward to address him, smiling kindly.

“See? None taken, asshole.” Jeff shoves Eddie back.

By doing so, he’s pushed even closer to you, his weight against you further. Eddie stabilizes himself with a hand on your leg, his palm warm through the fabric of your jeans. He leaves it there even when he sits normally.

“So,” Gareth grabs your attention with your name, “how’s Hawkins? Missing us horribly?”

“Let’s just say, the Hideout is pretty boring now.”

“Good riddance.” Gareth teases, giving Jeff a high five.

You know it’s mostly a joke, but it also isn’t, really. These boys weren’t treated right there. Ridiculed for having passions and hobbies that weren’t so conventional. They’re right to be glad to be away, to be glad to be loved now.

Still, there’s a dull ache at the thought that Eddie feels the same. That Hawkins is too small, too awful for him. That you’re not enough for him, having your life there.

Then, you’re reminded of his hand on your leg, and you shake off your thoughts, covering them with a smile.

“You know,” Jeff, the most lacking of a filter of the group, says, “this guy’s a whole lot happier now that you guys are talking a bunch.” Eddie, he means. You know by the way he ruffles his hair.

Eddie shifts in his seat. He wants to tell Jeff to shut up, to stop because he could say too much, could give away too much. He knows he loves you, and he will tell you, he will. But not like this.

He settles for a glare in Jeff’s direction.

“Oh, I’m not-” you start, flustered at the idea of being any kind of reason for Eddie’s happiness, especially being one that causes a noticeable shift.

“No!” Gareth jumps in, “it’s true. He used to grump around the hotel room and yell at us for having the TV on too loud-”

“I did not yell.”

“-and now he doesn’t care ‘cause he’s on the phone with you, anyways.”

“Right!” Jeff again. “First thing he does when we get to a new hotel is lock himself in his room and call you. It’s soooo cute.” He pitches his voice up for the last bit, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, a faux-innocent smirk on his face.

Eddie thinks he might punch Jeff right now. He thinks that often but he’s actually, really considering it (he’s not really, but still). He sounds like an absolute dork, the way Jeff puts it, even though he’s right. Relying on your voice through the phone to make his nights, counting down the minutes until the next time he can call.

He’s so pathetic over you. So pathetic and so in love he doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

He musters an: “okay. Shut up.”

That’s when you look at Eddie, who’s spinning the ring around his thumb on the hand that isn’t on your leg, looking down at his lap all sheepish. There’s a tinge of pink spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears that you can see with the way he’s wearing his hair, a messy bun at the back of his head.

It’s fucking cute. You want to kiss him so bad for it. Instead, you hold the hand that’s on your leg, nudging your shoulder into his.

The next day comes and goes. You have the day to yourself to explore New York, wearing in your platform mary janes and doing enough walking to wake up a little sore tomorrow, but it’s great.

You eat brunch by yourself in a quiet cafe, your current read open on the table in front of you. The rest of the day is spent being a full-on tourist, which you’re a little embarrassed about, but it’s a big city, and you definitely aren’t the only tourist around.

Well, the rest of the day minus dinner.

Eddie couldn’t join you because of some press stuff, feature pictures for a magazine, a couple of interviews, a small writing session. Of course, he’d invited you along, but you didn’t want to get in the way, and there were things you wanted to see. It worked out.

Nonetheless, Eddie made sure to meet you for dinner, because there was no way he wasn’t going to do anything with you at all. He’s got about 4 days left, he isn’t going to waste a second.

He’s there before you are, signaling you over before the hostess can offer to seat you, and you send her a smile as you make your way over to Eddie’s table. He’s gotten you both a booth in the far corner, an echo of the table you’ve claimed as yours at Benny’s back in Hawkins.

Eddie trusts this place, it’s private and small enough to have no sign or awning outside. A good place to hide in plane sight.

Despite the reminder, the place is much different than Benny’s. Fancy enough to have you kicking Eddie’s leg under the table at the prices, which he tells you not to look at, tells he’s buying and you don’t have to worry. You still stick to the cheaper side of the menu.

So no, it’s not Benny’s, but Eddie still steals food from your plate, still smudges whipped cream on your nose after convincing you to split some dessert with him.

Over bites of cake he tells you about the song they were working on today—leaving out that he’d written a lot of lyrics about you—and how far they’d gotten.

“It’s not done, but it’s getting there.”

“Does that mean you’ll play it for me?” You ask.

“Mmm, I don’t know.” Eddie taps his chin like he’s contemplating. “You did kick me earlier.”

“Hey! I’ve kicked you before without consequence.”

“You know you’re really not helping your case here, trouble.”

“I’ll hear that song, Munson.”

And it’s left at that, because you will. Eddie can't really say no to you (has he ever been able to?) and he misses playing his songs for you before anyone else. Minus those involved in making it, obviously.

With the bill paid by Eddie, after much stubbornness, the two of you slip out the front doors with twin smiles on your faces, so saccharine it’s insane that the two of you are mostly oblivious to the other’s feelings.

Your smiles fade quickly when a wave of camera flashes go off on either side of the doors, surrounding the entrance to the small restaurant.

There’s a rock in Eddie’s stomach, sinking in dread that you’re with him as this is happening. It’s not what you signed up for and it’s not something you deserve.

“Eddie, over here!”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Is that your girlfriend?”

The shouts come all at once, overwhelming and intimidating and you have no idea what to do. Your hands shake a little, your heartbeat a rapid thumping in your chest.

Eddie’s instincts kick in quickly, though, having been through this many times before. This time, it’s worse. This time, there’s you.

He tosses an arm over your shoulder and rests his hand on the back of your head, gently urging you to look down so that they don’t get your face, his other hand grabbing your arm lightly to take you to the car where Hank waits.

Eddie opens the back door and urges you in first, shielding the entrance to the car as you shuffle across the seat to give him room. He slams the door as soon as his feet are inside, telling Hank to head back to the hotel.

Your chests are rising and falling in tandem, a matching rhythm. Scared, overwhelmed, anxious, and all for different reasons. You, from the completely foreign situation. Eddie, from how badly it could’ve fucked things up.

“Shit.” He breathes, and then his hands are on your face, cupping your cheeks to turn you towards him. “Shit, honey. I’m so sorry. I had no idea they’d- are you okay?”

His touch is grounding, his immediate concern being you and your feelings casting a warmth over your nerves, the sun breaking through the clouds of your mind.

“I’m okay. It just startled me.” You grab his wrists in hopes that your touch can help him, too. “But I’m okay. Don’t be sorry, Eddie. It’s not like you called them there. This isn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t think anyone knew me there.”

“People know you a lot of places, mister rockstar.” You’re trying to ease the atmosphere, but the worried furrow in his brows stays put. “Eddie, I’m okay. I swear.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop with that.” Then, another attempt at brightening things, you try to joke, or maybe you’re thinking out loud. “What if they call us a couple?”

Your voice has a teasing lilt to it, but there’s more underneath it. For once, Eddie can't exactly read what it is.

His thumbs stroke over your cheeks mindlessly, his eyes flicking all over your face. So fucking pretty, he thinks. And so his reply isn’t what you expect, but he can’t help it when you look the way you do and when you’re fighting off his concerns with only a few words.

“Would that be so bad?” He says it more than asks it.

It’s your turn to study him, the endearing blush to his cheeks, the way his bangs fall over his forehead, the way his eyes flick between your own.

“No, I guess not.”

For a split second after you speak, you think he might kiss you again, his face barely inching towards yours, his fingertips easing into your hairline.

And then Hank coughs and Eddie’s hands are gone and yours fall away from him, too.

Eddie clears his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Be normal, he urges himself. So, he offers, “how ‘bout I play you that song?”

And when you get back to the hotel, that’s exactly what he does.

It’s hours later and you’re still in Eddie’s room. There was the song—the fucking song, played acoustically since that’s all he has in the room, his voice and his guitar and his lyrics—and then a movie paused halfway through so that you could change into pajamas in your room, and then the rest of the movie.

Now, it’s idle chatter, the paparazzi speed bump gone from your minds by now, replaced by a debate on whether or not the movie you just watched was good.

“It was so bad, Eddie. Are you joking?”

“You just don’t have the sophisticated movie knowledge to know good cinema when you see it.”

He’s totally lying. The movie was awful, but Eddie likes to argue with you. He likes the way you scrunch your nose or eyebrows at his stupid jabs, likes the way you’ll smile the entire time because you’re never actually arguing.

“‘Sophisticated movie knowledge,’ he says. Like you haven’t just rewatched the same twelve movies your whole life.”

“And those twelve movies are all amazing!”

“I think to consider yourself sophisticated you’ve gotta watch twenty-five movies. At least.”

“Since when are there rules? Knowledge is knowledge, babe.”

“There are rules since now. We can’t go around letting just anyone say they know movies.”

“Who’s we?”

“Um…”

“Hm?” Eddie urges, a smile growing on his face because he hasn’t had this much fun, hasn’t felt this light, in a long time.

“I don’t know.” You give up, shrugging your shoulders. When a puff of breath leaves Eddie’s mouth, the failed holding back of a laugh, you lean over and shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of Eddie’s hotel bed. It’s huge, a king size with like ten pillows and crisp, white blankets. It’s a mess now, the blankets shifted and wrinkled, some pillows tossed on the floor, one on your lap.

“I totally just won that.” Eddie says.

“You did not! That movie fucking sucked, Munson.”

He’s sitting near the end of the bed, half facing you, half facing the TV. After you speak, though, he fully twists towards you, shifting so that he’s leaning on his hands in front of you.

“You wanna say that again?”

“That movie sucked.”

“Okay. That’s it.”

And then he’s on you, his fingers pushing into the soft of your tummy to tickle you because he knows that’s where you’re the most ticklish. This is how he used to win all of the arguments.

“Jerk!” You try to push at his shoulders, words broken by giggles, but he’s relentless. “Get off me!”

“Admit you lost.”

“No.”

“Well, then. Your fault.”

Eddie keeps going until you’re breathless from laughing and attempting to overpower him. As a last resort, you bring your knee up and hit him in the thigh. Being the dramatic he is, Eddie clutches his leg and falls onto the bed like he’s been shot.

“Ow, fuck. How am I gonna perform in these conditions?”

“Oh, stop.” You’re laying beside each other now, your face turned towards Eddie, his up at the ceiling in his fake pain. “I just won, by the way.”

His act falls away after you say it, and you think he’s gonna strike again, tickle you or make another silly counterpoint. Instead, he turns towards you, too, your noses a whisper apart, breath hitting each other's faces.

“I fucking missed you, trouble.”

“Yeah.” Your chest is rising and falling steadily, still recovering from Eddie’s tickles, maybe from his words, too. “Me too.”

Your hair has fanned across your cheek from the movement, and Eddie reaches out to push it away, behind your ear. His fingertips are gentle, featherlight, but they have your face nudging into the touch anyways. Like you couldn’t help it, like it’s an instinct.

And then, in a moment, a simple blink, Eddie’s pushing himself closer, putting his lips on yours. Eddie’s kissing you again.

His hand settles itself fully on your cheek, fingers splayed over your skin, sure to leave behind streaks of gold. Or, at least, you’d think they would. The feeling sparkling in shimmers across your cheek.

Your brain takes a second to catch up, but when it does, you’re already kissing him back, your fingers tucked into his guitar pick necklace to tug him closer. It’s easy, you think, to kiss him. Easy to want this, to move your mouth in rhythm with his.

You’ve only kissed once before, but it’s like you’ve been doing it a lifetime with how right it feels.

Eddie hadn’t even realized he was going to kiss you until he was doing it. His thoughts were all you you you and then his eyes were on your mouth and then he was there, kissing you.

He nudges his knee between your legs, shuffling himself even closer to you without breaking it because he’s afraid that if he pulls away, it’ll be the end and he doesn’t want that. He could kiss you forever, could kiss you until he’s completely sick, until there’s no oxygen left in his lungs because all he can breathe in is you.

Your other hand holds his arm, fingertips just under the sleeve of his t-shirt, his warmth seemingly seeping into you through your hand, spreading down your arm and into your stomach and everywhere.

You really like kissing him. You like it so much.

Eddie’s wondering how he’ll ever let you go home after this, how he’ll be able to say goodbye to you at the airport and go back to touring with his bed empty and nobody to give him shit over a movie. Luckily, he doesn’t have to deal with that now.

No, now it feels like he’s dreaming. Because he’s kissing you and it’s even better than he remembered from last time and he wants to be allowed to do this always.

He leaves it at kissing, this thing too delicate to risk, too long spent building up to this and he wants to enjoy every moment. He’d be content if all he could do is kiss you, because it’s the best thing he’s ever had. You’re the best thing he’s ever had.

It’s long before either of you pull away, a push and pull of your mouths, breaking apart for less than a second before jumping back in. When you do pull away, it’s mutual, both of your breathing coming out in pants, both of your mouths slightly agape, eyes locked on each other’s.

Eddie moves first, pulling you over so that your head is tucked beneath his chin, nose pressed against the neckline of his shirt. He’s got a hand tossed over your waist, palm flat on your back, the other holding the back of your head to him.

You fall into place easily, just like you had when he kissed you. One of your hands is wedged under his neck, the other still on his arm. It’s like you’re a set, two pieces meant to fit together just like this.

“I think I won, trouble.”

“Shut up.”

In the morning, you wake up in a similar position, having fallen asleep with the TV humming in the background and the haze of your kiss still heavy over you both.

Now, however, you’ve shifted a little bit. Eddie’s on his back, but he’d brought you along with him in his sleep. Or, you’d followed. Either way, your head’s rested on his chest, your arm tossed over his stomach where his t-shirt rides up to reveal a patch of skin.

You’re struck with the thought that you’ve shared a bed before, countless times, but never this close. You’ve cuddled before, too, but it’s never felt like this. Intimate, affectionate, more.

You close your eyes and go back to sleep, not quite ready to give this up.

When you’d woken up the second time that morning, Eddie was already up, the door to his ensuite shut with light slipping under the doorway. And when he’d walked out with a “good morning, sleepyhead,” it was like everything was normal.

You’d fallen into your routine with him, and now, after not nearly enough time, you’re at the airport again. The last couple of days a blur, your parting ways this morning even more so.

Hank had driven you again, and Eddie made sure to be in the car with you, to squeeze out every second of time left. You’d hugged each other in the back seat, whispered ‘I’ll miss you’s and ‘thank you’s for the week you had.

The ache slipped into you again, the uncertainty of when you’ll see him next, the feeling of missing him that lingers and lingers.

Still, you’d twisted around and waved to the tinted windows of the car with a smile before going inside, knowing he’d be behind them, really hoping he’d be looking.

Of course Eddie was looking. He peered into the glass doors of the airport until your figure was completely out of sight, until Hank had to ask him if he was good to go. He should have kissed you goodbye, he thinks. Should have kissed you and told you how he felt but he has no idea how. Next time, he’ll say it. He has to.

The trek through the airport is boring, and you’re still early by the time you get to your gate. Hoping to pass time, you head into one of the duty-free shops.

That’s when you see it.

There’s a wall of magazines and newspapers, a whole shelf taken up by a picture of Eddie. A picture of you and Eddie. It’s from that night at the restaurant, and you’re lucky that your face can’t be seen, ducked down and covered by shadows and Eddie’s hand.

Surprisingly enough, the picture isn’t what gets to you, it’s what’s written about it. You drift over and flip to the page indicated on the cover to see the ‘full story.’ It feels like a punch to the gut.

‘Metal Heartthrob Eddie Munson was seen leaving a restaurant in New York City with an unknown woman. How could she get his attention, I’m sure you’re wondering. We’d love to know, too. Is Munson the type to settle for a normie? Or is she only a fling? The second option would make the most sense, we think. Keep reading to learn why she doesn’t fit.’

You slam the paper shut, setting it back on the shelf and standing there like an idiot, your hands shaking a little, your heart in your throat.

“Can you believe it?” A woman says to you, pointing at the damn picture. “He could do way better. I’m just saying.”

“Oh. Yeah,” you offer weakly, walking away and finding a seat at your gate.

It stings when you know you shouldn’t let it get to you, but it’s like every insecurity you’ve had has been splashed onto a page for everyone to see. You don’t belong in his world anymore, you aren’t enough to be in it, he doesn’t want you that way.

It’s a disgusting spiral that eats at you as you sit and wait, as you board your flight, even as you find your seat next to a man who’s already asleep. You can't believe the things people feel okay saying about someone else, and even worse, you can’t believe how they wedge themselves under your skin.

You wrap your arms around yourself, peering out the window and trying to convince yourself that whoever wrote it is wrong, that the woman in the store was wrong. But all your mind can conjure is reasons why they’re right.

You aren’t a model, or an actress, or anything of the sort like the other women Eddie’s dated since becoming the star he is. You never will be.

Worst of all, these last few days you really thought he could feel the way you do, even a fraction of it. You thought that he buried feelings he couldn’t say into that kiss, that maybe, maybe he could be in love with you, even just a little bit.

Now, you feel like an idiot for ever letting yourself think that could be true, your eyes blurring with tears of frustration and a hurt that shouldn’t even be there, but cuts deep.

You’re just friends, it’s always been that way. It’s your own damn fault, really, for falling in love with him. Falling in love with the best boy you’ve ever known, with your best friend, with the only person who makes you feel the way he does.

It’s your fault that you let a tear slip down the slope of your cheek as your plane takes off. You wipe it away quickly.

Eddie feels strange as he lays back onto his hotel bed after dropping you off. There’s a cold present in his room now. The evident and devastating lack of your presence, like the chill that washes over a summer day when the sun is swallowed by a gray cloud.

He already wants to call you, but you’re miles in the air by now.

He really should’ve kissed you goodbye.

Eddie ends up calling two days after you get home. He wanted to do it sooner, but the whirlwind got to him, and after a week in one place, it was back on the road. He got caught up, but he has the time now, and he’s been eager to use it.

Your number is practically muscle memory by now, dialed without a second thought. He listens to the ringing, fingers pulling at the threads in the rip of his jeans as he waits sitting on his bed. He counts the seconds until you pick up.

Back in Hawkins, it was hard to believe that only a couple of days ago you were in New York City with Eddie, watching him play, having dinner with him, kissing him. Being home, it feels like the whole trip had been a dream.

You fell into your life here quickly, a full day shift at the library, a visit there from Dustin with a stack of overdue books and questions of how Eddie’s doing.

It’s impossible not to think about him, still. So of course you’d pick up the phone on the chance it’d be his voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

Eddie’s head thumps back against the headboard when he hears your voice, “hey, trouble.”

“Eddie.” You were hoping it was him, yet you’re still a little surprised. You shouldn’t be, he’s been calling often for a while now, but you’ve been feeling nervous ever since reading that stupid article. Insecure, stupid, a whole bunch of negatives that won’t leave you alone. But he’s calling, so you try not to think of that. “How are you?”

“Good! I’m good.” He shuts his eyes, tries to picture what you might look like right now. He doesn’t think his mind could ever do you enough justice. “Jeff totally ate shit during soundcheck today, you would’ve loved it. You’re good?”

“It’s kind of weird being back here.” You say, your honesty spilling the way it does over the phone. You’re braver this way. “But I saw Dustin today. He asked about you.”

“Yeah?” The grin on Eddie’s face is immediate, your voice soft and somehow exactly what he needed. “Did you tell him I’m still the coolest guy ever?”

“Sure,” you drag out the word.

“Whatever. I totally am.” There’s a lull for a second, the sound of sheets ruffling on his end as he shifts on the bed. “You said it was weird being back?”

It’s hard to read his tone through a phone, but he sounds sincere as ever, his voice softer when he says it. You shift a little, too.

“A little. Just getting back into things, you know?” You’re on your back now, eyes fixed on a spot on your ceiling. “New York is a lot different than Hawkins.”

Eddie’s not sure what makes him think it—your voice going quiet, the way it takes you a little longer to answer—but he can tell that something’s off. You sound sad, and there’s a twinge in his chest at the thought of you upset. You’re undeserving of it, and he’s got the urge to break the rules of the universe and jump through the phone to be there for you.

“Yeah, it is. You okay, honey?”

The question strikes you. You hadn’t known that you’d been acting any differently, but you suppose that’s how it goes. You can only hide so much, and those words splashed on a page about you have weighed heavy on your mind since you’d seen them.

But you can’t bring yourself to tell Eddie any of it. What if he hasn’t seen it? Worse, what if he has and he doesn’t want to bring it up because he agrees?

So, you come up with a lazy excuse, “oh. I’m okay, Eddie. Just a long shift today.”

“You sure?” Even though he can’t see you right now, there’s something in him telling him you aren’t being honest. It’s like he’s got a sense for these things when it comes to you, embedded in his heart the way you are.

“I’m sure. I’m just tired.”

He knows that there’s something else to it, but he won’t pry. All he wants to do is help, so he lets himself say what he’s been thinking since you’ve left. “Is it pathetic that I already miss you?”

A smile flickers on your face.

“If it is, I’m pathetic, too.”

“At least we’re in it together, then.”

After you eventually hang up, Eddie can’t fight off the feeling that something's happened. He’s gotta figure it out, he wants to fix it, to pull away any pain you might be feeling. He’d take it for himself if he could.

So, although he’ll get endless shit for it, he finds Gareth and Jeff watching TV in the living room of their suite and figures he might as well ask them.

“Hey,” he starts, standing in front of the TV despite their groans to make sure they’ll listen. “Did either of you say something to her? About… um, you know.”

The way that he doesn’t even have to speak your name for them to know who he’s talking about says enough about the ‘you know.’ He’s slightly worried that they’d told you how he felt about you and it scared you off. He really, really hopes that isn’t it.

“About you being grossly in love with her?” Gareth checks, though he surely didn’t need to.

“Yes, asshole.”

“Nope. I didn’t. Jeff?”

“No, man.” Jeff huffs, “and you’re blocking the TV.”

“I know! I need you guys to help me out.” Eddie starts pacing in front of the TV. He explains your phone call, how he felt like something was wrong, that you were upset. They both listen, though Jeff occasionally tries to lean around to see the screen. “So? What do you think?”

“Maybe it has to do with that article,” Gareth says.

“What article?”

“You know, the one with that picture of you two leaving that restaurant.”

“There’s a fucking article about that?” Eddie twists his ring around his thumb. Shit.

“Oh, yeah,” Jeff points towards the small table near the entryway of the room, “it’s over there. Kinda brutal.”

“You idiots didn’t think to tell me?”

“Um, it’s pretty popular, actually.” Gareth shrugs. “Thought you would’ve seen it by now.”

“How are we idiots for helping you?” Jeff asks.

Eddie flips him off over his shoulder as he goes into his room, shutting the door behind him. He’s still pacing, flipping the pages to find the right one. His stomach sinks when he lands on it and skims the words written.

‘Is Munson the type to settle for a normie?’

He makes an actual sound when he reads it. Something of disbelief and shock. He knew that having the life he does comes with these things, and he’s learned to deal with them when it comes to comments about himself. But you? No fucking way.

If he was ever lucky enough to have you, he wouldn’t be settling, he’d be the happiest he could ever be, probably. Maybe it’s time he finds out.

If you’d read any of this, if you believed it, he can’t help but feel at fault. Sure, he didn’t write it, he didn’t publish it, but he brought you to that restaurant and he’s the reason that paparazzi was there. If there’s anything he can do to fix this, he will.

So, he makes a plan. He calls his manager and gets himself a spot on the next flight out to Indianapolis. He can miss a studio session or an interview, it doesn’t matter.

This is far more important. You’re more important.

Eddie doesn’t pack anything for the flight. He doesn’t have the time nor the concern to do it. He’s got the beanie on his head, sunglasses over his eyes, and a hoodie pulled over it all.

He doesn’t take the time to get a driver, so he takes a cab back to Hawkins once he lands in Indianapolis. It’s already dark out, probably way too late to head straight to your place but he does it anyway. No time to waste.

Slamming the cab door, he tells the driver your address and tells him to drive quickly. He gets a thumbs up in return and that’s it. Eddie’s forced to sit there, his leg bouncing anxiously as he waits impatiently to get to you.

He should be tired, should be fighting heavy eyelids and yawns, but he isn’t. Eddie’s determined and nervous, eager to get to you and agonizing over whether or not this is the right move.

But, he’s made his choice. He’ll stand by it. There’s no denying the way he feels, and he’d do anything to make you feel okay.

Eddie spends the drive trying to figure out what he’ll say to you. His thoughts are a mess of speeches and phrases that just don’t sound right. He doesn’t think there’s a way with words that really conveys the extent of his affections, but he’s going to try. He figures a four letter word is a good place to start.

His palms are sweaty as the cab pulls up to your place, your apartment in a building that’s been converted from its original use. Eddie grabs cash from his wallet and hands it to his driver, telling him to keep the change.

He stands there and stares for a minute, taking off his hat and sunglasses now that he’s on a quiet, deserted street. He’s got no idea what time it is, no idea whether he’ll be waking you up or not, but he huffs and heads to your door, lucky that he can access it from outside.

With his fist raised, Eddie takes as big a breath as he can muster, and knocks on the door.

You were having a hard time sleeping, tossing around uncomfortably until you gave up and grabbed the book from your nightstand. You’d been mid-chapter when you heard the knocking, almost convinced you’d imagined the sound.

And then it comes again, four quick taps on your door. You don’t have a single guess for who it could be, but you set your book face down and kick your blankets off, turning on your light on your way to the door and squinting at the brightness.

You’re not sure what exactly you were expecting to find on the other side of the door, but it wasn’t this. Wasn’t him.

“Eddie? What the hell are you doing here?”

He takes a second to look you over, his hands stuffed in his hoodie’s pocket. You’re wearing a pair of floral pajama shorts, ruffled at the hem, and your fucking Corroded Coffin t-shirt. Yeah, he made the right choice coming here.

He avoids your question. “Can I come in?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You open the door further and step aside, closing it after he steps inside. “Aren’t you supposed to be on tour?”

“I needed to see you.”

Needed to. Like it’s bigger than a want.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, leaning against your door. Eddie’s not far, only a step away from you.

“That article was bullshit.”

“What?”

He takes the step, his feet toe to toe with yours now. You’re forced to tilt your head up due to his proximity, his eyes unwavering and still, the way they always are, soft. You fiddle with your hands behind your back.

“That article about us, it was total bullshit.”

“I don’t-”

“I know you saw it, and it was wrong. You aren’t a fling to me, you aren’t a fucking normie. You’re my favorite person in the entire world.”

Eddie’s found, now that he’s started, he can’t stop pouring things out. He pushes your hair from your face, trails his hand lightly down your arm until he’s tugging yours from behind your back, weaving his fingers between yours.

“My favorite, okay?” He continues, his stare flicking between your eyes, like he’s making sure you believe him. “Whoever wrote that is a shithead and I don’t believe any of it. None, honey. I’m sorry that I put you in that position, you didn’t deserve it. But it’s bullshit.”

You can feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest, your fingers squeezing around Eddie’s as he speaks like you’re making sure he’s real. That he’s here and he’s saying these things and he’s looking at you the way he did before he kissed you.

“You-” you clear your throat, voice weak at first from his words. “You came all the way here to tell me that?”

His free hand tugs at the neckline of his hoodie, his gaze flicking down to your hands and then back to your face. “Yes.” There’s the lightest blush to his cheeks, “among other things.”

“Other things?”

You don’t want to guess, shouldn’t let yourself get your hopes up and up and up. But your mind does it on its own accord. What if he-

“I love you,” he rushes it out in a breath, but you hear it all the same. “I’m in love with you, trouble.”

“You are?”

Your eyes are wide, your hand tight around his, and Eddie smiles because he can’t help it. He made the right choice.

“I’m in love with you,” he says again. “I have been for a long time, I think. I only figured it out a bit ago, but it doesn’t feel new.”

“Me too, Eddie.” You barely register your own words, your grin spreading wide or the way you laugh in disbelief. Finally. “I love you, too. For a long time. But I knew it.”

His heart squeezes. He wonders how long, how hard it must’ve been for you to keep it inside while he took forever like an idiot to register his own feelings. But he’s got you now, and that’s more than enough.

“Well, you’ve always been smarter than me.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

And then his free hand is cupping your jaw, his nose nudging yours. “Shut up.”

He kisses you then, broken by your smiles but the best one yet. Because it’s out there: you love each other. It isn’t a question of whether or not, it’s a certainty. You’re in love and you can have this. You have this.

Your hand that isn’t clasped in his holds the back of his neck lightly, your fingers tangled in his curls, keeping him close.

Eddie doesn’t go far when he pulls away, his forehead tilted against yours, his hand still on your face. The corners of his eyes crinkle from his smile, and you can’t help but kiss him again. A peck, another, and another.

“I’ve got like 36 hours. Think I could stay?”

You nod, your smile mirroring his. Lovesick, totally stupidly happy.

“Yeah?” Eddie swings your joined hands lightly. You nod again. “Good. I would’ve had to walk back to the trailer if not. I probably would’ve died.”

“Always dramatic, Munson.”

“But you love me anyways.”

“Guess I do.” Your fingers gently tug at tangles in his hair. “You’re sure about this? Even with the distance?”

Eddie lifts his forehead from yours to make sure you can see his face fully. His thumb smoothes over your cheekbone.

“I’ve never been more sure. Ever.” And he hasn’t, not even when he knew he wanted to do music forever. Because he’d give it up for you if he had to, though he knows you’d never ask him to. “I’ll call you so much you’ll get sick of me. And you can come with me when you have time, and I’ll come home when I have time. I want this so much, okay? So much.”

“I do, too.” You look at your hands, thinking about how you’d always thought they were meant to be holding one another. “You’re okay with dating a normie?”

“Fuck that.” His hand on your face tilts it just a little, urging your sight onto his. “You’re my trouble. Nothing else matters.”

My trouble.

“And you’d really come back to Hawkins more for me?”

“I’m going to.” Eddie understands why you’re asking. In the past, he’s gone quiet, he’s gotten caught up, but after tonight? He’s never gonna hear the end of it from the band, that’s for sure. “You’ll totally get sick of me, you’ll see.”

“Don’t think that’s possible.” You look at his face, the eyes you could never forget, the dusting of stubble across his jawline. A face that’s been on TV and countless magazines, albums and posters. “I always thought you outgrew this town.”

“I never outgrew you.”

You know there’s more to figure out, more worries to be had, but you’re in love and you can say it. That’s what’s important now, that’s what you’ll enjoy.

The shoebox that sits in your closet has served you well, but you won’t need to pick at the scraps anymore. Won’t need to hold onto this boy through magazines and newspapers.

My trouble.

When you kiss again, you’re sure that you’ll never want to be anything else.

♫♩♪♬

hi!! thanks so so much for reading these two <3 i’ve had so much fun with rockstar!eddie and i hope u guys did too!!! if you did, a reblog would mean so much <3

i don’t usually do tag lists, and i probably won’t again after this, but the demand was high for this one (like, crazy! thank u so much!) so here’s the rockstar!eddie tag list

@5sosjay @paleidiot @emma77645 @onceuponathreetwoone @copycatkillerfics @munsonmecrazy @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @lbhmoon @icant-hangout-imdrumming @freakymunson @blackcatwoman @l3xiluve @littlestarfighter03 @yujyujj @totally-bogus-timelady @kimmi-kat @spitefulscreenwriter @amira0303 @mylovelycrazyworld @esme-viridian @pippipsquirtsquirt @brassreign @madneedshelp @emilyslutface @alana4610 @crystalr @kirisuteg0men @hesvoid34 @cutiecusp @nerium21 @angel-ann-pops

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italiansteebie · 1 year

Text

something you'd never expect about steve harrington is that he loves halloween.

i mean, he really gets into it.

he dresses up, decorates the house, hands out candy and even goes trick or treating with the kids as an excuse. "i'm keeping an eye on you guys!"

"you didn't have to dress up though,"

"yes i did, dustin. you don't know everything."

even after the upside down bullshit, he still loves it, and maybe he kept his scoops uniform with blood and barf stains so he could use it as a costume. and maybe that was kind of fucked, but he's coping with it.

now, steve's love for halloween is one of robins favorite things about him. especially since his house is equipped for an exceptional party, what with the size and the decorations steve is going to put up anyways? it's perfect.

so the halloween after scoops, they throw a masquerade of sorts. it's quite a rager, despite steve's expectations.

he decided to go as a masked cowboy.

he got the boots, the hat, and he wore a leather vest that ended up giving him a chill for the night since other than some chaps, it was all he was wearing on his body. he did the whole nine yards with a red bandana and some sunglasses.

"hey cowboy."

steve turned, taking in the sight in-front of him.

a guy, with long curly hair, somehow making a jason voorhees costume work.

he tipped his hat, always committed to the bit, "jason." he said simply, thanking the bandana gods for hiding his blush.

"never woulda thought king steve would throw a party like this."

"why not?"

"i dunno. it's cool though, guy seems to have changed."

"for the better?"

jason tilted his head, "yeah man. for the better." he said it as though the decision had been made, and locked in place.

so they sat.

and talked.

all night.

and the rest of the party seemed to fade away. that is until a drunk robin, dressed as micheal myers laid across his lap, "kick everyone out, im tired."

he checked his watch, it was 4 am, probably about time for them to go home. so he stood, gearing up to say his farewell to jason, maybe ask him for his number, but when he turned again, he was gone. only the smell of weed and cheap cologne remained. (and later, he'd find, a lone 36 sided die, that he'd end up asking dustin about).

it's silly to think that steve was falling in love with this guy after only just meeting him, but he'd grappled with his sexuality on a bathroom floor, appropriately, and was ready to dive back into the dating pool. or maybe the puddle, because halloween jason, seemed to be the one.

the only thing is, steve has no idea who the guy is.

that is at least until, none other than eddie munson had a broke bottle pressed against his neck. now he didn't figure it out in that moment, but when they were fleeing for their lives, eddie's hand found a way into steve's, and back at eddie's trailer, steve caught a glimpse of none other than the jason voorhees mask he'd been searching for ever since that party.

and maybe it was a sappy declaration of love, but steve was nothing if not a hopeless romantic.

"don't be heroes."

it was pleading.

steve tossed the dice eddie's way, watching fondly as he struggled to catch it.

"steve- wh?" he could see the moment it clicked in eddie's eyes. steve turned, ready to finish this mess, so he could talk to eddie, to jason, and figure out some shit.

"hey, steve?"

he turned, meeting eddie's eyes.

"make him pay, cowboy."

it was done.

they did it.

a few were in the hospital but, hey. they did it. eddie had been in a rough way for a little while, eventually pulling through but not before some physical therapy.

steve was there when he woke up.

had been ever since he'd explained to eddie's uncle wayne how they knew each other and what eddie meant to steve.

eddie cracked open his eyes.

"howdy, cowboy." it came out scratched, and rough.

"eddie," steve breathed, grasping his hand.

"i knew i liked those chaps."

steve rolled his eyes, smiling while tears rolled down his cheeks. "you saved my life." eddie said, reaching a hand to steve's cheek. steve shook his head, "how can i ever repay you?" eddie said, a glint in his eye.

steve laughed, "no thanks necessary," he said, tipping his imaginary hat, leaning into eddie's touch. "there must be someway," he said, southern drawl creeping into his voice. "how about a kiss?" steve asked, eyes flickering down to the metal heads lips.

wayne shook his head at the boys' antics. "will y'all just kiss already? im getting old waitin' for ya!"

eddie laughed at his uncle's testimony, before nodding, "c'mere, cowboy," he said, before closing the gap between him and steve.

"was it rootin' n tootin'?" eddie asked, a cheesy grin on his face as he pulled away. "sure was, partner."

"oh my god."

"hey robs,"

"steve, shut up. eddie's jason! jason from-" robin stumbled into the room. "from the party!" she all but squealed. steve laughed, nodding, "yeah, babe. we figured that one out ourselves."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #best friend robin #steddie ficlet #stranger things #halloween #steve loves halloween #best friend robin buckley #platonic stobin #steddie fic #steve harrington character study #spooky steve harrington #steve loves eddie #eddie loves steve #western steddie

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years

Text

Just Make it Better｡*.✧

Pairing | Eddie Munson x bartender!reader

Warnings | 18+ only, porn with a fair bit of plot, swearing, oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, AU where the pull out method is infallible, he comes on reader but like in a romantic way.

Word Count | ~4,830

A/N | Eddie: that's what's killing the kids!!! Me, twirling my hair: haha, wow, so true, Eddie.

It was super fun to watch stranger things 4 late and say to myself, wow Eddie is so cute, I wonder if there’s any fics of him, then hop on tumblr and find out he's the internet's latest boyfriend. Happy to be here with you all.

“Hi, sweet boy,” you coo, squatting down to let the little black and white cat rub his face against your hand. When you place the plate down for him, he lets you keep petting him for a while before he goes for it, as if he knows that’s the price of the food you bring him each night.

You’ve been affectionately calling him Banjo, after the instrument that was playing in the bar the first time you saw him, when he was all skin and bones. His fur is softer and fuller since you first encountered him mewling by the dumpster behind the Hideout. Steady meals and a little love have brought back his willingness to groom himself. “You’re looking real cute these days, mister.”

“You really know how to make a guy jealous.” You jump at the sudden voice from behind, falling on your ass on the ground beside your stray friend. Banjo, who has become less jumpy the longer you’ve known him, doesn’t even look up from his dinner.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” You yell, pushing yourself up to stand, rubbing your hands on the front of your denim shorts.

You should have known he’d appear. He never let a Tuesday go by without talking to you, but you’d thought you could avoid him today. Banjo was probably here twenty minutes ago, waiting for you, but you kept yourself behind the bar until Eddie and his band were almost finished on the makeshift stage in the corner of the Hideout. You’d thought, foolishly, that he might take the hint and leave before you came back inside.

If he had, it would have guaranteed you another week of not going home with him.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says in earnest, having the humility to look a little guilty. “Just wondering why the little guy gets all the compliments.”

You don’t answer, embarrassed that Eddie saw you acting like that. All soft for a dumb cat. He might get ideas about the kind of person you are.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Was looking for you. Wanted to tell you the big news,” he grins, widening his arms. “You are looking at a member of the Hawkins High graduating class of 1986. Got the diploma and everything.”

Your look is impassive. “Amazing to think what somebody can achieve in just ten years.”

“Only six, actually,” he corrects, joy unwavering. He watches you pick up Banjo’s plate and give him a couple long strokes down his back, standing to the side to keep the back door open and allow you through.

“So, what’s next, Eddie? Let me guess. MIT, right?”

It’s mean, you know it is. But you can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

When you first started working at the Hideout, the Summer after you yourself graduated, you tried keeping him at arm’s length gently. You were all one word answers for a while. But he could deal with that, easily. Half the kids in his club started like that. He’d coaxed every one of them out of their shell, building them up from shy, quiet boys to almost-men willing to stand on a shitty little stage and play their own music in front of a whole room of people who’d maybe rather they weren’t there.

So you’d changed tack. Instead, for the last year, you’ve been trying to beat him away. Trying to make it as clear as possible.

I’m not worth it. I’m not good for you. I won’t ever make you happy.

The success of this tactic had been hampered, you knew, by the way you let him take you back to his uncle’s trailer every once in a while.

“I’ve got plans,” Eddie’s eyes sparkle, more sure of himself than a new graduate has any right to be.

“And these plans involve continuing to play here every Tuesday,”

“Well, I know you’d miss our little chats,” he says. “Besides, we are technically supposed to get paid for playing here, and I haven’t actually seen Tommy in like two months?”

You hum. That sounds about right. Tommy had started to make a habit of letting you close up on Tuesdays, especially. “Try letting him smack your ass next time you see him,” you answer. “That usually puts him in a good enough mood to pay properly.”

Eddie makes a face like he’s considering it. “We’ll maybe make that Plan B.”

That almost earns him a smile, but you push it down. “Great, now, get out from behind the bar.”

Eddie bows his head a little like he’s apologising. He jogs round the bar, hair flying behind him before he settles himself on the stool across from you.

“Honey?” You glance down the bar at one of the regulars. “Can I get two beers for me and my buddy?”

“Uh-huh, which buddy’s that, Murphy?” He makes a non committal noise, gesturing vaguely behind him. “Yeah, nice try, but we agreed, three tops. This is the last one, then it’s Pepsi for the rest of the night, okay?”

He grunts, but doesn’t complain, just grabbing the open beer you hand him and returning to his place at the edge of the room.

You glance at Eddie, finding him smiling at you warmly. “So, what did you think of the show?”

You purse you lips, trying to look like you’re really thinking about it. “You certainly make me appreciate the talents of real musicians, Eddie.”

In truth, you admire Eddie and his friends, playing their music every Tuesday for an audience that barely realises they’re there. And it’s good; loud and real and alive. Stuff you’d listen to in the car, if you had one, and if they ever made a real record.

And you like watching him play, especially. Eddie has always had confidence you couldn’t believe, but when he’s got a guitar in his hands it’s like it has somewhere to go. The way he looks with his head thrown back, hair wild about his face. It’s half the reason you tried to avoid him tonight, knowing you were too worked up to say no if he asked to take you back to his.

“Your children are waiting on you,” you tell him, looking pointedly behind him at his bandmates who you know for a fact are too young to be in here. They’re watching both of you with the dumb grins boys get when their friends talk to a girl. God, you can believe he just graduated. This feels exactly like being in high school.

“I can, uh, give them a ride and come back for you, if you want,” he says, gently, scratching the side of his neck.

You swallow, knowing exactly what will happen if you let Eddie bring you back to his trailer. You mentally count how long it’s been since you let him touch you. At least a month. Longer, if the warmth between your thighs is any indicator.

This is the worst part. However you say it, accepting his invitation is telling him that you’re thinking about him, that you want him.

“Okay,” you say lightly. Looking away from his eyes, so intent on you.

“Yeah?” He grins, throwing his shoulders back and nodding. “Okay, I will see you at one then.”

You hum, still trying to make it seem like you don’t care either way. When he’s gone, you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment and regret. Fuck, why couldn’t you just tell him, once and for all, that you aren’t interested. He’d listen, you know he would. He wouldn’t like it, but if you really told him that you didn’t want to keep doing this, that he should stop talking to you, stop inviting you home, then he would.

You’re resigned to it, the rest of the night. Even as you’re flipping chairs on top of tables, you’re rehearsing what to say. Listen, I’m just gonna go home, you plan out every word in your head. I don’t think this is going where you want it to, Eddie, and we’ll both be better off if you leave me be from now on.

Only, there he is at the window, smiling and waving at you like an excited boy about to take you to prom.

He even opens the passenger door of his van for you.

The whole way, he talks at you easily, letting you wallow in silence. He tells you about his final month at high school, the way he’d clawed his way towards a D in English, which surprises you, given how much he reads.

It’s strange, listening to him talk about something that feels so long ago, now, for you. But you were there, together at one point, even if you never spoke to Eddie at all while you were. Different circles, different friends. Not that any of yours lasted past senior year. Eddie was the only person you talked to from school, these days.

It has you thinking, what it would have been like if you’d spoken to Eddie, properly, when you were in high school still. What would he have thought of you, if he knew you before life decided things were a little too good and kicked you in the teeth? Would he like you better without the jagged edges? Would you let him be sweet with you, outside of his bed, like he wants to be?

Eddie lets you into his trailer first, directing you straight to his bedroom, as always, after the one time Wayne had come home early. He hadn’t caught you on your knees for Eddie, the way you had been when you heard his car pull up in the middle of the night. But he had caught sight of you disappearing into the bathroom. He had seen Eddie standing there with your bra held behind his back, trying to casually untuck his shirt from his newly pulled up pants to cover the wet patch where you had pressed your mouth over the denim just to see him throw his head back.

It had taken him two months to get you here again.

“So, they both have girlfriends?” You ask, incredulous, breathing out smoke that already has you a little more relaxed, a little giggly with him. He’s telling you about the youngest in his group, and the weird way they try to one up each other when they talk about the girls that conveniently both live in different states.

“So they claim,” he nods, taking the offered joint from your fingers and resting it in the ashtray beside his bed. “Amazing how times change. Girls were certainly not impressed by guys that play fantasy games, when I was fifteen.”

You hum, not sure that’s true. You remember Eddie at fifteen. He was just starting to grow his hair out, and it looked crazy, sure. But his eyes were as they are now, big and expressive.

“Maybe not when you were fifteen, but don’t tell me you haven’t had a couple cheerleaders going through a rebellious phase in this bed over the years.” There’s a pause, and you catch Eddie glancing up at the ceiling. You howl a laugh. “I fucking knew it. Some metalhead you are. You liked the same girls all those basketball players were into.”

“No need to be jealous, sweetheart,”

That has you rolling your eyes, whether he’s right or not. “As if I’d be jealous of Hayley Matthews.” You watch his eyes for a twitch, any hint of being caught out, but he’s just watching you, unamused. “Olivia? Zoe Miller!” His expression is unflinching, increasingly frustrating you. You grab his wrist and squeeze. “C’mon, tell me!”

He tries to shake your hand off his wrist but you just hold on to it with the other, opening your mouth to try and irritate him more when he grabs your hands in his and presses them together, pinning them against your stomach. Arousal zings up your back, the wetness between your legs that has been there since he first strummed a chord at the bar suddenly much more noticeable.

None of this gets past Eddie, who shakes his head at you in disapproval, voice harsh. “You know, you’re getting kind of predictable, sweetheart.”

You rub your thighs together, anticipation making your head a little fuzzy already. You’re so close to getting what you want from him. In a second, he’ll flip you over and tug off your shorts, pull your hips up and bend himself over your back. Then he’ll give you his cock, and his groans in the air above your head. He’ll let you bite his sheets and smell him on them. Soon you’ll feel good and owned until your head is empty, like you want it.

Only, Eddie just lets your hands go, and backs away from you. You watch, fighting a pout as he stands by the bed and removes his t-shirt, grinning at the way your eyes dart between his tattoos, his necklace, then back to his face. He reaches for you, grasps your hips and this is it. But he’s not turning you over. He’s pulling you towards him, your ass almost hanging off the side of his mattress, his big hands resting on your hips. He lets you squirm and avoid eye contact for a second before he works the button of your shorts open, pulling them down your legs and off your feet. He throws them over his shoulder in a way that might make you laugh at him if he weren’t staring at you like that.

Eddie hums, hooking his arms under your legs to open them up for him. He leans his body over yours, and for a second you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips find your neck instead, soft kisses he trails down to the neckline of your shirt. He shoves the fabric of it up, up and over your chest, face still pressed against your collar bone when he tucks his fingers into your bra to pull it down over your tits.

You let him do everything wordlessly, not exactly able to complain even if he’s doing this softer, slower than you normally get him to. His breath goes a little funny when he pulls back to glance at your chest, but he’s back to himself in a second, burying his face against the skin between your tits before he drags his lips up to pull at your nipple. You feel a little bit of teeth on the sensitive skin and whimper, pushing the heel of your hand into his sheets.

You moan outright when he rubs his thumb against your clit over your panties, digging the material between your lips. You feel his grin against the underside of your breast, then on the skin by your belly button and above your panties. “Eddie,” you say, trying to sound put together even as he has you ready to beg. “You don’t have to.”

He pulls your panties to the side with one hand and glides his fingers up your pussy with the other, stopping at your clit to give you a little rub with the rough pads of his guitarist fingers. “I can see that,” he answers, grinning and dropping to his knees by the edge of the bed. He pulls your panties further to the right and out to let him get his head where he wants it.

You cry out his name when he gets his mouth on you, immediately lifting your hips up and off the bed with your feet on the edge. You feel his laugh against your cunt as he presses you gently back down to the mattress. There’s no teasing, just his wet, soft tongue playing with your button, drifting down to give your hole a wide lick before he’s back looking after your clit.

Your hand is gentle, threading through the hair at the top of his head to hold him to you, even though he doesn’t even pull away for a second. You dare yourself to look away from his ceiling, down your own torso to his face between your legs, whining to find him with his eyes already on you.

You feel the tips of his fingers circling your hole, rubbing over your entrance before letting them glide inside, pressing immediately against the spot that has you throwing your other hand down to his hair and grasping him tighter.

Everything is numb but the pleasure building deep in your cunt, his soft hair between your fingers and your thighs. “Eddie,” you gasp, needing something, you don’t know what. You whine, wanting him to know what to do to make it happen for you, like he always does. “Eddie, please.”

He shakes his head between your thighs, his tip of his tongue bullying your clit, and then he’s pulling your hand from his hair. Turning his palm to yours, he curls his ringed fingers between yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You squeeze his big hand as he pushes you over, hips jerking against his face wildly. You cry out at the intensity of him still playing with your twitching button as the pleasure in that spot becomes unbearable. He gives your clit one final kiss, a little suction between his lips that has you slamming both your hands against the mattress repeatedly. When he takes his fingers from your pussy, you can feel the slick that follows them leaking out of you. Without hesitation, Eddie buries his fingers in his mouth, tongue dragging between them as he pulls them back out, already clean of you.

The other hand, still grasped in your own, he brings to his lips as he stands. He presses his swollen, wet lips to the back of it, along your knuckles.

When he untangles your fingers, your chest aches.

“C’mon,” he says, so gentle. “Want you naked.”

You pull your top over your head, relief at the new cool air on your heated skin almost overwhelming. Eddie focuses on getting your underwear off while you remove your bra, then he tugs your socks off your feet.

He smiles at you, tilting his head. His gaze moves over you, up from your swollen cunt to your face, which you’re sure is giving away everything you’re feeling. A little shock, some nerves. All your adoration.

“So pretty, all over,” he says, kissing your knee that’s still tucked up to keep you open for him. “Pretty cunt, pretty tits, pretty face,” he grins against your skin. “Pretty girl.”

You can’t help yourself when you giggle, feeling a little manic from what just happened. Eddie’s eaten you out before, lots. Before and after he’s had his cock in you. But not like that, never so gentle yet frantic, like he was desperate to do it, not to get you wet enough for him, but to make you feel legless and soft on his bed.

You miss his hand in yours.

The metallic jangle of his belt buckle has you shaking your hips in excitement, wanting him now, now, now.

“I know,” Eddie says, unzipping his pants and pushing them down over his narrow hips. His thick cock is flushed pink, his balls heavy and swollen and fuzzy with dark hair. The sight of his cock has you wrapping your hands around the back of your legs and pulling back, not even feeling judged or insecure when he laughs at your movement, but just more desperate.

Eddie takes some deep, slow breaths, wrapping his hand around his swollen cock and pulling the skin back over his wet, sticky head. You don’t know why you’re not telling him to hurry up, you’re feeling desperate enough for it. But it doesn’t feel like your place right now, to tell him what to do with himself, or with you.

Eddie watches your face as he drags the head of his cock up, his wide head catching your hole then pushing at your sensitive clit. Your mouth sits open, ready to moan when he finally gives it to you, but for now you’re just gasping, giving him little girlish whines that have his cock twitching in his hand.

He breathes out through his nose when he catches his cock against your entrance a final time, sliding himself into your wet, clenching cunt and groaning through his closed mouth.

You clasp onto his shoulders as he builds his pace, stroking himself in and out of you steadily, the wet sound of your cunt clasping onto him filling the room. His hair falls round the sides of his head, and you wish that he’d tuck it behind his shoulders so you could see his lovely face better.

He does, throwing his head back like a lion shaking its mane to get it out of his face, making you breathe a quick laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so soft on you, then, his hands gentle on your hips. “You wanted to see me, huh?”

He always knows.

“Mmm-hmm,” you whine, fingers digging into him.

“You like looking at me while I fuck you?” You shift your hips against his, dizzy with the questions when you don’t want to be thinking anymore, not when his cock is finally getting good use of your cunt like you wanted. “C’mon,” he murmurs, leaning over you, his face now close to yours. Oh, that makes you squeeze around him, enough that you see him pull his eyebrows together. “You like looking at me?”

“Yeah,” you whine, hoping that’s the last of it.

“You’re usually so mean to me,” he breathes, hand coming up to stroke the hair back from your forehead. You mewl at the stuttered thrusts he gives you, grasping him pleadingly. “So fucking mean all the time, but that’s okay.” He smiles at you, thumb stroking over the top of your cheek. “It’s what you need, so you can be good for me like this. Isn’t that right?”

You’re staring at his big eyes, your vision steadily blurring. “Yes, Eddie,”

“Yeah, I thought so, baby,” he coos, pressing kisses under your eyes. “And you’re so good for me when I get my cock inside you,” he nods you through your cry, letting you know it’s all okay. “So good for me when I touch you.”

“I wanna be good,” you tell him, feeling overwhelmed, but suddenly desperate for him to know.

“Oh, sweetheart,”

“I wanna be good, Eddie,” you cry, tears finally falling down the sides of your eyes. He hushes you, holding your face in his big hands, thumbs wiping the wetness away from your burning cheeks. You squeeze his shoulders, wanting him to kiss you.

It’s like he knows. He always fucking knows. Eddie presses his soft lips to yours, breathing in your cries from the constant movement of him over you, inside you. He draws his hips back, then up as he pushes in and oh God.

“Eddie,” you gasp.

“That’s it, yeah?” You nod desperately, reaching out almost blind through the tears in your eyes to find his hand and drag it to the top of your cunt, his laugh above you breathy. “I’ve got you,” Eddie says, letting you press his fingers to your clit. He flattens three of them against your sensitive button, rubbing in wide circles that have your thighs shaking.

You realise suddenly that you’ve been holding your breath, feeling it fall out of you in a wail. You stare at his face as the feeling builds, spreading from the spot the head of Eddie’s cock is dragging against with each thrust to your clit and up your spine. His cheeks are spotted pink, the hair covering his forehead frizzy but for where it’s sticking to his skin. His wide eyes are intent on yours as he nods. “C’mon,” he says, his cock twitching and you realise he needs you to get yours first. “Let me feel it, then I’ll give you my cum all over your little pussy, just how you like.”

Your whole body spasms when you come, your toes curling, your legs pushing up and out enough that Eddie has to put some effort into keeping you in place. He’s murmuring praise all the way through, telling you how good you are for him, how nice your little pussy feels clenching and pulling at his cock.

“You, now,” you say, encouraging him along, wanting to see him and feel the evidence of his pleasure on you.

Eddie gives a long groan, and you feel his cock twitch and flex inside before he drags himself from your hole. It sounds like it hurts to leave your warmth, and a little, insane, part of you thinks about telling him to put it back in and cum inside, if that’s what he wants.

But he’s already at the edge. You watch through hooded eyes as he plays with his cock over your sex, curling his body over yours and slapping his hand on the mattress by your head. You place your palm on the side of his neck and he kisses your wrist quickly, groaning against your skin when he comes, ropes of him landing on your wet, clenching pussy.

His hips twitch in the air as he coaxes out the final drops, letting himself rub his head against your sensitive clit, leaving his cum there even as your body twitches and jumps in protest.

Your hand keeps rubbing the side of his neck without you even thinking about it, drifting up to scratch at the back of his head when he falls into you, his face pressed into the skin between your tits. You feel a little numb all over, apart from the space when his warm breath is leaving your skin hot and wet.

Eddie kisses the inside of your breasts quickly, making to pull away but you’re grabbing him, wrapping your arms under his and around his torso.

“No, don’t go!” You cry, the thought of the cold air he’s about to let touch your skin making you shiver. The fear that he’ll laugh at you hits with intensity, but you only hear his harsh breaths mingling with yours.

“’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, kissing your chest again. “Just gonna get something to clean you up, then I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, guiding you to nod too, loosening your arms a little. “Okay,” he breathes, pulling himself slowly from you.

You stare at the ceiling when he’s gone, legs left open like you’re keeping the space for him.

Your thighs shake when you feel a wet cloth, gentle and just cold enough to soothe your hot cunt. Eddie cleans around your thighs, which have been wet with you own slick the whole evening. His touch leaves you for a minute, then he’s back with a cool glass, hand on the back of your head, tipping water into your pliant mouth. Then, he’s pulling your boneless body up to sit and dragging a new t-shirt over your torso. The smell of him, smoke and masculine aftershave, embraces you, letting your already fuzzy brain float a little further away from any impending anxiety.

You feel the bed shift and creak, then he pulls you up the bed away from the wet patch you’ve left on the sheets, settling you against his chest as he leans upright against his pillows.

You drift a little at the feeling of his hand on your upper arm, gently stroking. Your eyes close, you don’t know for how long, maybe seconds, maybe minutes, but Eddie’s still there with a gentle caress.

You stare at the dark hair on his chest, trying to enjoy the afterglow even as shame starts to build in your chest. Your brain is already mocking you, for all the things you just said, all the things you let him coax from you.

And he knows.

"If you want, the fur ball can come live here."

You blink, not following at all, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed from earlier or Eddie himself that’s caused it. "What?"

"Yeah, Wayne wouldn't mind as long as he doesn't have to be the one to feed him," he says, looking like he’s thinking it through even as he speaks, and you remember he saw you with the cat.

“You mean you’d look after Banjo?” You ask without thinking, still staring at his chest, not even realising you just told him you went as far as giving the street cat you feed every day its very own silly pet name.

He keeps stroking the top of your arm. “Yeah, he could terrorise the birds in the woods to his fluffy little heart’s content.” Eddie’s fingers move, up and down, up and down. "And you could come visit him, I don't know, every day maybe."

Your breath is unsteady. Slowly, you let yourself rest your arm over his torso, almost hugging him.

"I think he would like that."

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #service top eddie munson #aka the real eddie munson #there is a cat that just lies on a dumped mattress on my street every day #and for weeks i'd walk past him at like 6am on my way to work and just like wave #then one day they gave me a proper meeow and ran right up to me and rubbed against my leg and and i felt hashtag blessed #and i was like hey that feels like a cool start to a fic #cause that's how i think #and then the cat became a real proper metaphor #like a metaphor that real writers use in this stranger things smut fic lmao #anyway #lov eddie he soft #(✿ ♡‿♡)💖#my stuff

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obsessedelusional · 1 year

Text

Trigger Warning

parings ✦ Eddie Munson x Reader

summary ✦ A friend ship with Robin leads to a crush on Eddie Munson. One drunken night changes everything, suddenly Munson has a girlfriend. The group can’t help but assume it’s you. It’s not. Contains Smut

authors note ✦ Feedback and reblogs appreciated! Thank you for all the love!!!

A year ago you befriended Robin which quickly turned into you being integrated into her friend group, you fit right in. Eddie took a certain fondness to you, which you never fully understood. You considered your self plain and boring while Eddie was the complete opposite. But you couldn’t help but feel like he gravitated towards you whenever the group got together, flirting with you so outwardly. You never minded forming a crush on him shortly after meeting him.

You thought maybe you were over thinking the way Eddie acted around you but when Robin noticed it too, that validated your feelings. She was determined to make it happen, getting Steve in on it. Those two were constantly trying to push you two together. According to Robin the whole group shipped you two together. She had to explain that one to you not understanding what shipping two people together meant.

Robin begged you to come to a house party that the girl she liked was attending. You didn’t go to parties so you politely declined. Until she brought of the fact that one of the attendees would be Eddie.

“Fine I guess I’ll show up.” You whine pretending to be annoyed.

“I had a feeling that would work. Steve will pick you up at 10!” She says before before hanging up with no goodbyes. You chuckle at how excited she is.

—

A text from Robin letting you know they’re here puts a smile on your face as you run out the door straight to his BMW. You let your self into the back seat, Robin turns to face you, “You ready to get drunk?”

When you don’t respond fast enough Steve chimes in, “Why am I always the DD? When is it my turn to get drunk?”

“Never. You’re permanently my own personal driver. Suck it the fuck up.” She laughs as Steve starts the ignition and drives off, doing as he’s told. You’ve never drank before or got high before joining this friend group. Most of the time only participating because Eddie would be the one initiating it. Thinking it’s sad you’d do anything that boy asked of you.

Doesn’t take long before Steve parks in front of the house, just down the street from your home. Robin is the first out of Steve’s car. Steve and you follow far behind her. Once inside Steve says, “I wonder if Jessica’s here yet.” Then taking off to find his most recent situationship. Another term Robin had to explain to you.

You walk around hoping to bump into a familiar face. Eventually finding your way to the kitchen. Drinks and snacks lined up on the counter. You grab a beer, deciding if your gonna make it through the night you’re gonna need a little liquor in your system taking a big swig. Walking into the living room you see no one you know, you curse yourself for being so damn shy. Sitting down on the nearest empty seat, pulling out your phone to look busy. Sipping on the beer you found in the kitchen.

The weight of someone sitting to damn close to you pulls your attention away from your phone. Looking up you’re greeted by a guy wearing a letterman smiling, “Hey I’m Andy.”

You introduce yourself to with he responds, “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

“Thanks.” You can’t help but blush, he’s attractive.

“What’re you doing all alone?”

“My friends ditched me.” You laugh taking another sip, some how your first drink is empty.

“That’s a shame. I would never ditch you. We should do shots.” You contemplate your choices, deciding taking shots with Andy sounds better than sitting alone. Before you can answer he stands up and drags you into the kitchen. He starts pouring some liquor into two shots before passing one to you. He doesn’t hesitate shooting it back, you follow in his lead. He yells as you cringe at how bitter it tasted.

Before you know it you’ve had several shots, definitely feeling it. Knowing you’re going to regret this is the morning. You nearly trip but Andy catches you in his arms. Looking up at him was a mistake because he kisses you hard and sloppy, making your need to vomit ten times worse then before. You push away from his grip and run towards the bathroom, running inside, kneeling in front of the toilet to throw up.

As you’re vomiting someone lets them self into the bathroom. Whoever it is sits down with you holding your hair for you. You quickly recognize the voice, it’s Robin.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Andy happened.” You whine, wiping your mouth off on the sleeve of your shirt.

“Yeah we saw that.”

“Who’s we?” You groan sitting back, the room spinning.

“Eddie and I.”

“We were enjoying the show of you taking shots. That was until Andy started getting touchy. You should’ve seen Eddie, absolutely fuming.” She laughs, handing you a water bottle, you drink it.

“Then when he kissed you he stormed out.”

“Was he mad?” You ask between drinks, trying desperately to rehydrate yourself.

“Yeah. You need to go talk to him.”

“I’m too druunkkkk.” You cry, slurring your words.

“A drunk mind speaks sobers heart.” You roll your eyes at her statement, “He’s drunk too. You’ll be fine.”

“Fuck it.” Robin cheers because the liquor is giving you the courage you never had before.

“Wait!” She rummages through the bathroom cabinets finding some mouth wash, passing you the bottle. You look in the mirror wiping away the tears before taking a swig of mouth wash, spitting it into the sink.

“Go get your man!” She yells as you walk out the front door.

“Eddie!” You yelp as you notice his van sat across the street. Music playing loudly, you laugh remembering giving Eddie shit cause he’d be deaf soon if he didn’t stop listening to music so loudly. Drunkenly you walk up to his van stopping at his window, suddenly not as confident as you once were. You can’t help but laugh at how upset he looks, startling Eddie in the process. Now that he knows your here you let your self into the van.

“What the fuck? You scared the fuck out of me.”

“I had to find you. Robin said you were mad at me. Can’t have Eddie mad at me.” You pout your lip before sitting close enough to rest you head on his shoulder.

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

“I didn’t want to kiss Andy. He’s a shit kisser anyways.”

“That’s a shame.” He says flatly.

“I want to kiss you.” You say in a whisper, surprised at the words coming out of your mouth. Wondering when you got so bold. Looking up to see his reaction, he’s staring off not daring to look down at you.

“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t want to kiss me.”

“Why?” You ask.

“Because Y/N you’re smart as fuck, you’re going places. You’re gonna do something with your life. If you get caught up in my bull shit I’ll only drag you down with me.”

“We’ll I don’t care you can’t tell me who I should want to kiss.” He groans, rubbing his eyes. A silence falls over the two of you, irritating your drunken self. You sit up so your face is level with him.

“Guess I’ll just have to go kiss on Andy.” You let out a loud sigh, teasing Eddie in the hopes he’ll stop you. He finally looks at you, trying hard not to smile. He can tell your only trying to make him jealous.

“Please don’t make me Eddie. I only want you.”

“You have no idea how badly I want you.” He laughs. That’s more than enough for you because you crush your lips into his. This kiss more passionate then the one you previously shared with Andy. You can sense Eddie’s hesitation but that quickly fades when your hands find their way to the back of his head, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck. Eddie can’t control himself a low husky moan leaves his lips mid kiss.

You’re the one to pull away eventually panting, “I live down the street. Walk me home won’t you?” You smile and Eddie agrees. You two get out of his van and start the short walk.

“Where are you shoes?” He laughs. Looking down at your feet you shrug, can’t remember the last time you seen them. The looking down almost causes you to trip but Eddie catches you. So you hold onto his hand the rest of the way.

At your front door you ask Eddie to come inside. “What about you parents?”

“It’s only my mom and she leaves every weekend to go visit her boyfriend.” Eddie can sense the sadness in your voice but doesn’t say anything.

“Are you coming?” You whine, he nods, and follows you inside. Still hand in hand, you lead him upstairs. Once in front of your door Eddie starts kissing your neck from behind. You turn to face him, Eddie hoists you up, and carries you into the bedroom. Gently setting you down but you don’t let go pulling him down with you.

“I want you, Eddie.” You whisper before Eddie kisses you this time allowing his hands to explore your body, finding their way to under your shirt. Pulling it over your head, Eddie takes a moment to admire the sight in front of him. Your not too fond of wearing a bra, so your tits are out.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He says kissing you again, his bulge pressing into your crotch. He’s hard and the friction feels so good.

“Do you have a a condom?” You ask when his kisses start to move lower, down your neck. He nods before pulling his wallet out and finding the condom that’s been collecting dust for a while now.

“Can I?” You ask grabbing it from his hands. He takes his jeans off so you follow, taking your shorts off. Eddie helps you remove your panties before laying back.

You make your self comfortable between his legs. You can see the entire out line of his dick in his boxers, turning you on even more. You caress it through the thin layer of fabric, feeling Eddie twitch under your touch. You decide you can’t wait any longer pulling the hem of him boxers down, his dick springs out hitting his stomach.

“Fuck it’s huge.” You take his cock in your hand, pumping it slowly trying to imagine this giant thing fitting in you. Eddie can’t believe what’s happening right now, have imagined this hundreds of times.

“I can’t wait I need you now.” Eddie whimpers at your words. You rip open the condom, pulling it out of the package. You slowly roll it down his shaft, painfully slow driving Eddie crazy. As soon as your done Eddie flips you over so your the one on your back. Aligning his dick with you dripping wet pussy, dragging the tip between your folds. Just barley grazing you clit, you moan needing more.

“Eddie please.” Your whine turns to a moan when Eddie slowly shoves the whole thing in before withdrawing it again, teasing you.

“Beg for it.” He hums, letting the head of his cock drag between your folds.

“Please,” you cry out, frustrated.

“What do you want? Use your words, princess.” He smiles, still teasing you cunt with only the tip.

“I want your dick, please.” With that Eddie slams his full length into you, giving you only a moment to adjust to being stretched out. You moan under Eddie’s control, feeling so full. He starts pumping in and out of you, picking up the pace your moans fill the silence.

He leans down so his lips meet yours, kissing you deeply. A moan coming from your mouth allows Eddie access to slip his tongue between your lips finding your tongue. He continues to make out with you as his thrusts become stronger. Just before he pulls out completely you frown at sudden emptiness.

“Flip over.” You listen rolling over onto your stomach. Eddie pulls your hips up so your face down ass up. He fills you up completely and doesn’t move. Taking a moment to appreciate the view in front of him. You can’t take it much longer so you begin rocking back and forth on his cock. Eddie throws his head back in pure bliss. A few short moments pass before Eddie’s grasping your waist and forcefully pounding into you, your moans getting louder.

You reach under yourself finding your clit quickly rubbing at your nub. Feeling your self coming closer to your end.

“Eddie I’m gonna…” You grunt your words trailing off as you climax on his dick. The sensation of your pussy pulsating as you come is just enough to send Eddie over the edge, he cums inside the condom.

You let your self fall flat on the bed. Eddie gets up and you roll onto your back, slipping under the covers. You watch as he removes the condom throwing in into a bin. He bends over and grabs his boxers, slipping them on. Then goes to grab his pants to put them on.

“Leaving already?” You whisper barley audible. Eddie stops what he’s doing and looks over to you laid in bed.

“I thought you’d want me to.” He mumbles, dropping his clothes back to the floor.

“I want you to stay.” You smile reassuringly. Eddie listens and crawls into bed with you. As soon as he lays down you rest your head on his chest and tangle your legs with his. Doesn’t take too long for you to fall asleep.

—

You wake up with the biggest grin and a fat ass fucking headache. Feeling around the bed, reaching for Eddie only to find an empty bed. You shoot up in bed and scan the room, there’s no sign of Eddie being here anymore. You groan annoyed and in pain, finding your phone laying on the floor. It’s nearly dead but you have nothing from Eddie. A few messages from Robin but that’s about it. You find the energy to get out of bed, still naked and sore. You go straight to bathroom and hop in the shower, letting the hot water run through your hair and down your body.

The events of last night replay in your head, at least what you can remember. You definitely remember Eddie being jealous so you tried to make him more jealous, your threats not so serious. Eventually convincing him to come over, where you two fucked. You can feel yourself greeting worked up remembering the details. Then remember the fact that he was long gone when you woke up.

It’d be one thing if he had left a note or maybe a text, but he left no sign that things were okay between you two. You sigh while hopping out of the shower. Several months of flirting lead up to this moment and you had imagined it going a whole lot smoother. You can’t help but let your mind consider the worst possible outcome. You didn’t regret it but if Eddie did things in the friend group we’re about to get real fucking awkward. As your brushing you teeth you phone rings from your bedroom. Toothbrush still in hand you run to grab it, you face drops when it’s only Robin.

Robin: did you go home with eddie I need to know dying to find out

Robin: you still coming tonight? You have to so you can tell me everything

You: ill tell you everything tonight

You sit for a moment and contemplate wether or not you should message him. You settle on a simple hi and almost immediately you see his little text bubble pop up and then disappear.

Fuck.

Movie night at Steve’s house was something you guys did regularly, most of the group usually attended. Eddie was there most nights so you expected to see him there. He has yet to respond to your message, that was sent several hours ago. You drive yourself to Steve’s house and let your self in, part of you hoping Eddie would be there. He’s not here, of course not.

“Please never let me drink like that again.” You say grabbing Robin who’s sat on the couch and leading her into the empty kitchen.

“Did you go home with Eddie?” Damn Robin always straight to the point.

“He went home with me?” You say like it’s a question.

“Did you two ya know?” You laugh at her inability to say the word sex but then you can’t answer so you’re just as bad.

“You did didn’t you? You don’t seem too happy about it.” Her face riddled with concern.

“Because that motherfucker was gone when I woke up. Left no note or anything. Has yet to respond to my text message and now he’s not here. Clearly he’s avoiding me.” You sigh defeated.

“He is a motherfucker. I ought to show up to his trailer and fuck him up right now.” Robin says seriously causing you to laugh.

“No I’m serious, he’s been pining for you for months now and finally gets what he wants. What you wanted. Can’t even fucking respond to you.” She says pulling out her phone and typing away before pressing send on a text.

“What was that?” You ask.

“Just telling that motherfucker he’s a mother fucker and a lil bitch.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.” You pull her phone out of her hands scanning the screen.

“I did.” She wasn’t lying there you sat reading the text on her phone causing you to cringe.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” You say already embarrassed. She agrees not to tell anyone, even Steve.

Eddie never showed up to movie night. Never responded to your text or Robin’s text. Was his plan to ignore the whole group until you moved on? It’s been almost a week since the two of you hooked up and still nothing from him. You’d see him in the hallways at school, avoiding the fuck out of you.

The entire group was talking about you two, wondering why Eddie wasn’t around as much. Only knowing that the last he was seen was leaving the party with you. Trying to connect the dots on their own.

When Robin made plans to hang out Steve’s Friday night you weren’t expecting to see him, just sitting there like nothing had happened. Your phone goes off and it’s Robin.

Robin: trigger warning he’s here

You look up from the text and she’s mouthing ‘too late I’m sorry.’ If Eddie wants to act like nothing happened you could do exactly that. Sitting as far away as possible you start talking with Robin about a unrelated topic.

All things are going okay, chatter between everyone fills the room. Of course your ease dropping trying to hear Eddie’s voice, trying to not make it too obvious. That’s when Steve asks how’s he’s been, where he’s been hiding.

“That’s actually what I wanted to tell you guys.” He says loud enough for everyone to stop talking and give him their full attention.

The last possible thing you could of ever imagined to comes out his mouth, “I have a girlfriend.”

Everyone’s eyes fall on you assuming it must be you. Which makes absolutely no sense because you were not Eddie’s girlfriend. All they know if you left the party a week ago with Eddie and now he has a girlfriend, no wonder they think it’s you. Now your angry, trying so hard to keep your mouth shut. Steve turns to you, “I’ve been waiting for the two of you to-“.

“What the fuck does that have to do with me?” You snap at Steve, standing up. Irritated by this entire situation, grabbing your car keys to leave. Tears start flowing down your face.

“You’re an asshole.” The sound of Robin going off on him is the last thing you hear before leaving Steve’s house. Making the sad drive home upset at the entire situation. Upset how you went off on Steve for assuming you were Eddie’s girlfriend. Upset because a week ago you Eddie was fucking you and now he has a whole ass girlfriend. Once home you run straight up stairs and lay in bed, tears still running down your face.

Your phone dings ands it’s Robin asking if your okay. You respond telling her you’ll be fine. Before texting Steve apologizing for snapping at him because he obviously didn’t deserve it. You make your self more upset when you realize things will never be the same. You’ll never be able to just exist in their friend group again without things being different.

—

You had cried yourself to sleep. The soft sound of glass being tapped on getting louder and louder wakes you up. You rub your eyes trying to gain consciousness. You look to your curtained window, a large dark figure it outside.

“I’m calling the cops right now.” You scream at who ever it is standing outside your window. You reach for your phone only to see several missed notifications. A few from Robin and Steve but the rest from Eddie. He’s begging you to let him in, he’s the creep outside your window.

“Go away Eddie!” You yell louder this time.

“Not until you hear me out.” He says loud his voice muffled through the window. You don’t respond hoping he’d go away but he is persistent.

“I’m not going away till you talk to me.” You sigh giving up and making the slow walk to the front door. You unlock it and open the front door, greeted by a sopping wet Munson. Apparently it had started raining at some point and he was was sat out her for who knows how long. He’s stood there looking like a sad puppy but you’re not about to let him get what he wants so quickly. He’s looking down at you, you can tell his brain is trying to figure out what to say.

“What do you want?” You spit.

“Can I come in?” He asks, rain dripping down his whole body.

“No.”

“Fair enough.” He laughs, when you don’t find it funny he stops laughing.

“I want to apologize.” You look at him waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. I just said that because I don’t want you to want me. I thought maybe if you thought I moved on you would do the same. Only the complete opposite happened, everyone gave me shit for doing it that way. Which just solidified how terrible I felt for doing what I did.” He explains.

“You’re smart enough to make it out of this shit hole town. You’re going to do so much with your life. I don’t want to fuck that up for you.”

“Oh my fucking god. Who are you to tell me what’s good for me?” You groan annoyed.

“I care about you enough to know I’m no good for you.”

“If you cared about me so much you wouldn’t have fucked me and disappeared.” You say barely audible because of the tears begging to come out from your eyes.

“I was drunk and kept telling myself it’d be a one time thing. Then I went to leave and you asked me to stay. Which absolutely broke my heart because I knew I really fucked up.” When you don’t respond he continues.

“I fucked up cause I promised myself I wouldn’t let you get dragged into my bullshit but it was too late. You wanting me to stay scared me because no one’s ever wanted me to stay. Always getting kicked out immediately after. When I woke up next to you I was scared so I ran.” Eddie huffs, trying his best not to cry. His wet hair sticking to his face.

“I am scared.” He says this time quietly. You step out into the rain, arms wrap around his waist hugging him tightly.

“There’s no need for that.” You pull away so you can see his face.

“I like you Eddie. Like a lot. That’s all that matters.” You smile as an attempt to reassure him.

“I like you too much.” He smiles softly, looking down at you. You can’t help but roll your eyes letting out a small laugh.

“Just promise me you won’t pull this shit again.”

“I promise.” He says before leaning down to your level to kiss you. He pulls away sooner then you wanted.

“This is amazing but I’m freezing.” He says bringing you back down to earth.

“Shit.” You laugh leading Eddie inside your house, straight to the laundry room. You start undressing, ripping the wet clothes off your body.

“What’re you doing?”

“Hang your clothes over there to dry.” You explain motioning to the clothing drying rack struggling to peel your leggings off, he hesitates for a few moments. At this point your only in your bra and panties, headed towards your bedroom.

“You’re not gonna need them anyways.” You tease. You can no longer see Eddie but he doesn’t waste any time the sound of wet clothes being thrown around.

“Wait!” He hollers back before you hear a loud crash. Next thing you know he’s joining you in your room.

“What happened?” You ask laughing as he’s applying pressure on his shoulder. He’s only wearing his boxers now.

“I ate shit trying to hurry and undress.” He sigh rubbing his shoulder.

“Ohh poor thang.” You coo approaching him.

“Need a kiss to make it feel better?” You tease. He grasps his shoulder and nods yes, his lips pouted. So you do exactly that.

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storiesbyrhi · 5 months

Text

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: It's time for a family reunion. 2918 words.

1986

Kelsey picked up on the third ring. “Have you done something?” she asked.

“I miss when you used to say ‘hello’ or ask how I’m doing,”

“No, you don’t. They’re acting weird. Weirder than usual,”

“Who?”

“You know who. Sally and Gillian. I know they’re always moody and strange… but, I don’t know, something is up.”

You sighed. Audibly.

“Right, so you have done something?” she asked again.

“I’m coming home,”

“What?!” Kelsey screeched. “What? Why? Are you okay? What happened?”

“Stop, stop. Calm down. Nothing happened. Not recently at least. I just… I remembered some shit from a while back and I need to ask them about it. It needs to happen face to face.”

Kelsey considered the news. “Remembered shit from when?” She sounded like she almost knew what you were talking about. Like she was trying to work something out for herself. “From when we were there, right?”

When you didn’t answer, she knew it meant yes.

“I know it took a toll on all of us. The vampires and the… death. But they changed the most. They kept their names and have hardly kept up with the world since. Nobody talks about it. But… You think something happened? You’ve figured it out?”

Lying to her felt worse now that you knew the truth. The only way you could convince yourself to do it at all was knowing that Kelsey would soon get her memories back too.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Don’t say anything to them, alright?”

“I think they already know. Like I said… extra weird,”

“Well, don’t confirm it then. I just wanted to give you the heads up so you’d be around. I want to see you,” you told her.

“I’ll be here. And I will keep avoiding them. Like I have been. They’ve definitely noticed though,”

“Let them. They won’t go looking for confrontation.”

She treated your word like a Freudian slip. “Will you? Is that why you’re coming back?”

“I was always coming back,”

“Yeah, but it’s been a couple months since, you know, Hawkins was saved and everything went quiet. If there’s nothing supernatural keeping you there…”

“I was always coming back, Kels,” you told her firmly.

“Sure. Yeah. So, are you back for good?” There was hope in her voice, but it was tempered with her understanding of you.

“No. Not yet.”

Kelsey nodded, but said nothing. You could hear her glasses clink against the phone.

“I’m driving over tomorrow. I’ll be there around dusk.”

She wanted to know why you needed the element of surprise. She wanted to know what was tying you to Hawkins. What had you been doing there? Why did it feel like she was speaking to a different version of you from the one she had always known? What did you know?

“I’ll be waiting. Drive safe,”

“I love you,”

“I love you too.”

…

The timing needed to be right. Darkness would need to envelop the Catskills when you arrived. It, therefore, was a requirement that Eddie would ride shotgun in his new bat form.

You set up a little nest of scarves and altar cloths on the front seat for him. He nestled in and slept for most of the ride. Not the best road trip partner, but Eddie was owed sleep, if nothing else.

On you drove, gas station snacks and Strawberries by The Damned fuelling you. You’d forgotten how good Life Goes On was.

It was a pretty part of America, albeit a little monotonous. By the time you crossed into the great state of New York, the I-90 and I-86 finally behind you, you were aching. Long drives are a bitch, even for a witch.

Your coven was hidden high up in the mountains, behind a concealed gate. With the car still idling, you got out and stretched, looking beyond the road and down at the rolling valleys. The forests looked as though they were ablaze. The sun had just set, reflecting saturated reds and oranges into the fluffy clouds. Sky-bound flames licking up and fading into darkening blue.

Should you feel at home? Back to where you thought you belonged?

Turning back to your car, you spoke the words to switch Eddie back to himself. He appeared in the front seat, naked and a little blurry-eyed. Just seeing Eddie, the real Eddie, made you feel better.

He pulled on the pants you’d packed in the footwell of his seat, then joined you on the side of the road. Reaching for you, Eddie bundled you up in a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Why have you stopped here?” he asked.

“This is the way in. Only witches can find it. Wards and illusion spells and all that, you know?” You let him go and turned to the forest adjacent to the road. It appeared thick, untouched. No gates or paths in sight. At a grand old beech tree a few steps in, you held your hand out to Eddie. “Want to help me open it?”

Eddie nodded and followed you, he took your hand and looked at you for instructions.

“I’d usually use a pin or my athame, though that is not what it’s meant for. But now I have you,” you said with a sly smile. “I need a little blood, if you would be so helpful.”

When you held a finger out to him, Eddie grinned. “I don’t imagine this is how your coven dreamt this gate should be opened.” He took your hand and sucked the finger in. His sharp canines pierced your soft skin easily.

Eddie’s mouth filled with blood, his eyes closed, and he lost himself a little bit. You watched wide-eyed and tingly all over. When he was ready, Eddie let your hand go, a little blood staining his lips.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

He said nothing, afraid that all that could come from him was a moan.

Turning back to the tree, you wiped your bleeding hand across the bark of the beech. “Per sanguinem et magica… aperire,” you cast.

Like Eddie had read in The Lord of the Rings – speak friend and enter – magic unfurled its claws, giving entry. Trees that were solid and real suddenly shimmered into oblivion. The dead leaves that thicky covered the forest floor swept up into whirling breezes and left a road clean.

You smiled at the awestruck look on Eddie’s face.

Pragmatic and practical and full of faith in the universe, you had never been the type to mourn what you never quite had. Yet, you couldn’t help but think of how it could have been so different. If Eddie had been a mortal boy, or even fae or cryptid, you could have been bringing him home to meet the coven under such different circumstances. His natural curiosity and growing love for magic could have been met with a witch’s pride in her craft.

“Are you ready?” you asked him, the sadness in your voice entirely detectable.

Eddie’s dark eyes fell to your face and he nodded. He took both your hands and held them in his. “I love you,” he whispered.

You stepped into him, resting your forehead on his chest. There was no heartbeat to listen to, despite Eddie sometimes saying he swore he felt something move in there whenever you were close.

“I love you too.”

With nothing left to do, you cast Eddie back into the bat, “sic fiat,” picked up his pants, and got behind the wheel of your car. Slowly, overly cautiously, you rolled further into the forest, closer to the past and the present and the future.

Eddie glided overhead, keeping as much distance between him and the ground as he could, but near enough that he could be by your side in a second. He watched as the forest became less dense, with gravel roads and small buildings popping up between the trees. There were cabins with cottage gardens, modern mini homes, and other structures Eddie couldn’t guess the use for. It was a view into the subterranean lives of witches.

He perched on the roof of the small cabin you parked out the front of.

In a blur of black clothes and the scent of oakmoss and citrus, a witch quickly emerged from the cabin and plucked you from the ground, spinning you in an extended hug.

“Well look what the cat dragged in… Or should I say bat?” She motioned upwards with a single nod of the head.

If she had noticed your shadow bat, had the others?

Also, how were you meant to reply to that?

Kelsey laughed at your blank face. “It’s fine. Everyone else will be focused on you… And besides… I had a sneaking suspicion you weren’t coming back alone,”

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise. I just have to see them first. Give them a chance to…” You shrugged. “I don’t know… A chance to…”

“Fix what they broke?” Kels finished. She read the look on your face. “Don’t worry, I haven’t figured out shit. But you’re not the only witch that sits around trying to solve puzzles, you know?”

Of course she had a murder board mind too.

You smiled at her and nodded. “Right. Well. I better head up there.” The sound of the coven becoming aware of your arrival was getting louder.

“I’ll do some crowd management,”

“Thank you. I don’t know how long this will take but I’ll come straight back as soon as I can.”

Kelsey nodded into you as you hugged again, holding on tightly to each other. On the cusp of something, you both felt the edge beneath your feet.

Darting around Kel’s cabin before anyone else could greet you, you cut through some wilderness to get on the barely-there track to Sally and Gillian’s. It was a steep trek, your thigh muscles getting more of a workout than they had the entire time you’d been in Hawkins. Eddie swooped in to sit on your shoulder.

“Wish I could fly,” you huffed out between deep breaths.

Shortly, the trees and purple phlox made way and the cottage came into view. Eddie crawled into your inside coat pocket and you tried to ground yourself the best you could.

Only one step closer to the cottage and the door opened. Gillian stood dressed in linen pants with dirt on the knees, and a ratty t-shirt so faded you couldn’t make out the logo on the front. She didn’t look like a witch. Just a woman who’d spent her day in the garden. She didn’t feel like your aunt. Just a person you used to know.

Gillian cocked her head slightly as if she was confused by your hesitation. Had she expected you to bring violence? Or was that look an interrogation of your vulnerability? Would she make the first move?

“You better come inside then, unless audience is what you seek.”

The cottage was colder than it needed to be. You wondered if the sisters had been punishing themselves in all these little ways ever since leaving Indiana. The cold. Keeping their old names. The isolation.

The kitchen was the warmest part of the house, the small brick oven alive with fire and light. Sally was sitting at the table in the middle of the room.

Like her sister, Sally wore the same gardening clothes she’d spent the day in. Denim overalls and sports bra. The picture of brute practicality.

“Mother,” you greeted, taking a seat at the table.

Gillian put water on the stove to boil. She busied herself with a tea blend. You watched as she measured elderberry and apple, then sencha leaves.

A final touch –

“Mulberry?” you questioned.

Gillian paused but didn’t turn to you.

You could have said nothing but instead, you recited the meaning of the mulberry plant. “I will not survive you… Is that a plea or a threat?”

“Mulberry also can mean abundance. And, as you also know, it is good for you. It’s an offering of health,” Sally said quietly, with a voice so tired you would not have been surprised if she passed out on the spot.

Gillian said nothing at first. She brewed the tea with care and craft, then placed three identical cups on the table, dragging her own close to hold between her palms.

“Self-righteousness is an insufferable quality,” Gillian shot at you.

“Me? The self-righteous one? Am I the pious one too? Am I the liar and the thief and the-”

“Stop!” Sally yelled, fist coming down on the tabletop hard enough to make the teacups shake on their saucers. “This will get us nowhere. Say your part. Do what you came to do.”

Swallowing a great deal of resentment, you gritted your teeth and nodded. “There’s nothing you want to say first? Because this homecoming, from where I’m sitting, feels dangerous. Feels like you know exactly why I’m here and what I have to say,”

“Why did you have to go back there?” Sally asked sadly. “The Witches Who Came Before warned you,”

“Apparently, they would have warned you about a thing or two had they been asked, so… I guess you don’t put all that much stock in them. But yeah, I was warned. I was also called. By fate gone rouge.”

Sally and Gillian shared a look. Their overlapping sisterhood and magic gave them some special kind of telepathy, you were sure.

“Did they restore your memories?” Gillian asked.

“Or did fate?” Sally added.

You scoffed. “No. I’m actually very capable of performing witchcraft,”

“Oh, we know. That’s why we have always watched over you so closely,” Gillian replied. “So much power. Potential. For both greatness and-”

“And what? Wickedness? Thought I was destined to become a Dark Witch?”

“No. Potential for misery. And pain. We live a long time, but the strings of life tend to be cut short for the best of us. We sacrifice ourselves to push the magic forward. Like Penelope,”

“Like Penelope,” you echoed, shaking your head. “Sure… Well, that’s it, then. I got my memories back. I know what you took from me. From Kelsey… And I don’t know what I’m meant to fucking do with that.”

Gillian sipped on her tea while Sally stared into her cup. You looked from one to the other.

“You brought a vampire into the coven. The only thing that could hurt us. The thing hellbent on massacring the humans. What would you have done if the roles we reversed?” Gillian posed.

“I would have listened. I would have given it more thought than a couple of fucking hours. I would have asked The Witches. I wouldn’t have been drunk on power and self-importance. I would have considered that what I was telling you was the truth. That he was different,”

“They can’t be different,”

“He could! He wasn’t a proper vampire. When they made him, it didn’t… stick right. He wasn’t like them. And I know there’s not meant to be a good vampire, but the natural laws of magic say there isn’t meant to be a bad witch but we know they exist,”

“The risks outweighed-”

“The rewards? You didn’t consider the rewards for a moment. What an ally could have done for us. What we could have learnt. Who we could have saved. How I could have been. And the trust that could have been strengthen. We are hundreds of years old. We have seen all of history but you are so fucking afraid of making any changes. If we’re going to keep existing, we can’t get stuck in the old ways!”

The sisters were silent. It infuriated you. You stood up, pushing your chair with enough force to knock it across the floor.

“Was there a single second where you thought you might have been doing the wrong thing? Not by the coven or by magic or by the world, but by me? I’m not just part of the coven. I’m your niece. Your fucking daughter! And you fucking broke me. Ripped a giant hole right through me. I have been so fucking lonely and empty since then, and it is entirely your fault. Could you have stopped yourselves?”

The flicker of desperate guilt flashed across your mother’s face fast, but you caught it and you knew what it meant.

“That makes it worse,” you said, nodding to yourself. “You knew you shouldn’t have done it. But you did. And you have spent all this time stewing over it when you could have fucking fixed it. Should have fixed it,”

“How? How could we have fixed it? Let you remember? Then what? Help you find the thing and turn it back into a vampire? There’s nothing we could have done!” Sally yelled.

You laughed; it was just a little bit funny. “Maybe I am a better witch than you. Both of you. Because that’s exactly what I did, isn’t it? I went back. I restored my memories. And I found him.”

Sally and Gillian both turned matching shades of grey. Sally seemed to freeze on the spot, her eyes going wide and glossing over, on the verge of crying. Gillian dropped her teacup onto the saucer and stood up. Suddenly, she was holding you by the shoulders.

“What do you mean you found him?”

You smiled a cruel, coy smirk. Let them panic. Let them suffer. “The bat. I found him.”

Gillian blinked hard. You could feel her holding her breath. “What did you do?”

“I saved the fucking world."

End Note: I'd love to hear from ya'll. Thoughts. Feelings. Predictions. Requests. xo Rhi

P.S. Check this out regarding Language of Flowers and mulberry:

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lovejosephquinn · 10 months

Text

2️⃣

Plot: You become a little irritated arriving to your appointment to find out that your long term therapist has had to go on emergency maternity leave and somebody else has had to step in. When that certain somebody calls your name from the waiting room, your whole demeanour and mood changes drastically. It certainly was the pleasant surprise you were not expecting. Will professionalism hinder the inevitable, or will your feelings get the better of you?

Tag list: @eddiemunson-mylove @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @whoscamila @almightywdm @shawnamae87 @josephquinnsgoddess @lovelyblueness @aol19 @babybatlover @tlclick73 @aysheashea @killing-my-soul @emilyslutface @avobabe87 @eddies-acousticguitar @queengirl56 @eddie-joe-munson @lunakitty2608 @figmentofquinn @live-love-be-unique @joeqnz @witchwolflea @mmunson86 @dreamliners @purplerain85 @kingdomkitten32 @harley1608 @demonsanddemogorgons @chickennug90 @emma77645 @lma1986 @josephquinnsfreckles @zestychilli

Word Count: 3.6k

Part One ✨ Part Two ✨ Part Three ✨ Part Four

Is there such a thing as fear of rejection? Absolutely. From your therapist? A little strange for a topic of fear to be escalating madly in your head but you couldn't shake the feeling of the eyes that burnt through your skull and into the contents of your soul each time he looked at you. It wasn't normal to be feeling this way, you were entitled to be attracted to any normal human being as the next person, however the circumstances were forbidden if you were reading it correctly, reading his body language right.

Joe paid you compliments on the few visits you had been to, not just the 'oh you're looking well today.' He had started to call you pet names, called you pretty, started to physically place his hand on your shoulder if he aimed to walk in close proximity beside you, even stopped the session so that you could get lost in the flirty banter that you had shared the night before. The texting was getting worse, the contact outside of his job was indeed not supposed to be as tragically flirtatious. It was clear you liked him, fancied everything from his looks to his ability to make you laugh so damn easy. Whenever you laughed, it would make him smile, he was impressed how easy it was to get you there.

Reading back through your messages, the key signs were impossible to miss. There were a few choice ones that you liked to blankly alert yourself to.

'Missed seeing you next to me today.'

'Hope you're having a great day and staying out of those negative thoughts pretty girl.'

'Maybe one day I'll be coming to you for therapy because you'll of drove me insane with that cute little skirt you showed up in.'

'You're safe with me darling.'

You often imagined through the passing weeks his big brown bush baby eyes sparkling back at you after you had finished your session, no means to an end in his gentlemanly stature, as he would open the door for you on your way out, his hand leaning against the small of your back and soon after you arrived home, a notification of a text message would be safely waiting on your phone. Recently, it wasn't the only thing you had began to day dream, you had taken note more on his lips, the way they plumped together when he was listening to you, the way his tongue would slip to the corner of his top lip, eyes peering like fine slits as he took in your words. The way his nose would crinkle when he laughed. You were down bad.

It had only been a month and you were already fantasising about what it would be like to have those soft looking pink lips pressed up against yours, you betted any more income you ever got in your life that he would be the best kiss you had ever gotten. Sometimes, you would close your eyes and see him there, feeling your heart beating rapidly out of your chest, alerting yourself back to reality quickly when you felt your lips begin to pucker. A day dream was better than rejection and you were not about to face it head on, you couldn't. Joe is your god damn mental health professional. You wouldn't of gone this way for any other, so why him? You had to shake off the fantasy sooner rather than later or the over stimulation in your brain may lead to dangerous territory.

But here you were, standing in front of a mirror, hands firmly placed against your stomach as you twisted from side to side, eyeing yourself up from head to toe, making sure there wasn't one hair out of place on your head, caring about what you wore for your appointment, freshly showered and eager to get through the entrance. Excited to even see Agnes through the prosthetic glass which separated you, willingly advising you to take a seat, all so that you could spend the couple of hours praying the complete opposite; for it to go slow so that you could make the most of every minute with Joe.

You hadn't received a message from him in the last 24 hours which seemed strange to you, seeing as you had spent every day over the last few weeks texting most evenings at least. It sparked confusion in you but you were still determined to see him regardless, it could easily be just a blip, after all, you hadn't messaged him either so you couldn't fully place the blame onto him for feeling ignored.

Today was a day where you had gawked at him from across the seating area more than ever, even the awkward old receptionist had shone you a rather welcoming smile when you walked into the building. The leather jacket that was slung over his shoulder made him look almost bad ass, the tight fitted checked trousers beautifully caressing his hips whilst the black shirt tucked into it, two buttons opened and the silver chain glistening from the artificial lighting above the little ruffle of chest hair. Black square glasses adorned his head. His hair looked extra curly today, his sights finding you right away seeing as you had planted yourself on the chair right next to the door where you knew he would be coming from.

"Come on in." He smirked at you briefly, obviously just a polite greeting so that nobody knew the ongoings of what happens behind closed doors or in your case forbidden text messages. You couldn't of looked more desperate clambering off your bottom if you had tried, almost slamming the door shut behind you before Joe could even attempt to reach for the door handle himself. You did a mental skip over to your chair whilst he sat down in his once he had witnessed you make yourself comfortable.

"How are you?" He asked. A little subtle for Joe seeing as the text messages had become increasingly more close and personal, flirtatious none the less but you instantly had your anxieties flooding your brain of if he was being off with you.

"I'm okay." You twiddled your thumbs on top of your thighs watching as his glasses came to sit where they were naturally supposed to. "You?" Joe's eyes shot up, keeping his head still at the position of looking through your previous notes.

"Yes thank you." He smiled at you in a quick movement this time, as if he were just using his muscles for the sake of it.

"So what brings you to your eighth appointment in just over a month?" Joe picked up the black biro pen and placed it to his mouth, rolling the edge of the clicker over his lips.

You. You are what brought me here.

"I-I- I just had some stuff to talk about I guess." You knew exactly what you meant but you didn't know how to explain it to him personally seeing as he was part of the reason. Silence fell over you both for a few more minutes, making the tension grow evermore. Your leg began to nervously shudder, his eyes shooting back to watch your body part move vigorously before continuing his reading.

Moving his glasses back up to the bouncy, untamed curls, he took a deep breath in and made the exhale apparent through his nostrils. "Yeah? Go on."

"It's nothing actually. Maybe I should go." You were quick to cut the conversation off. The mixed signals you had never actually received before were like a knife to your heart. Maybe he was just having a bad day and wanted to get home like the definite majority of people wished for to happen as quickly as possible.

His eyebrows knitted together. "Well now I know there's something. Besides therapy, if I know anything about the female species it's that if they tell you nothing when they've just told you they want to talk about something - there's something. So spit it out Y/N." It was like a darkened growl to his throat when the last part hissed toward you. You were taken back, stood up and made a repetitive mirror image of the way Joe had just took his own deep breath.

"Where do you think you're going?" He stood up beside you, his frame standing over you as intimidating as you felt the first time you had met him.

"We'll reschedule. Talk about it another day." You couldn't help but feel the rush of tears aiming for the corners of your eyelids. "Maybe."

"If that's how you feel..." Joe left it there, as a professional he couldn't force it out of you, as himself he could of but he had to remember where he was at this moment in time. You walked out without a second glance back, livid at yourself that you had let yourself fall for such a false sense of reality. Agnes and you're sure several others watched as you stormed out of the building, focussing her eyes onto Joe's door which was closed shut.

Slamming your car door, throwing your bag onto the passenger seat and putting onto your seatbelt in an almighty huff, you turned on the ignition, fists turning white from how hard you were gripping onto the steering wheel. You were almost ready to put your foot on the pedal when your lips become trembly and your vision clouded over from the waterfall of tears about to erupt. You moved your hands to your face wiping away the flood of stingy, salty tear drops which made their way out in full force. Looking into your mirror, you tried to regain your composure so then at least you could go home and cry in a more private environment, at least you would be lonely in peace.

Just when you had stopped, your phone began vibrating, a displeasing sound to hear when you were in the middle of what you could only describe yourself as a mild mental breakdown. You stifled through your bag to find your phone, pulling it out only to see Joe's name appear on your screen. Of course you answered, just like a puppy rolling onto it's back, you wanted to hear exactly what he felt that he needed to say to you. You apprehensively tapped at the green phone icon, answering the call and placed him on loud speaker, setting the phone in your lap.

"Y/N." He sighed sweetly enough for you to hear it loud and clear, causing your heart strings to be tugged. "Please come back in." You remained quiet, he would have to try harder than that.

"Please." A little breathless whisper escaped out of your phone, making a little squeak of noise leak out from you lips.

"You can hear me right?" You nodded, as if he could see you. Moron.

"Yes." You replied blunt and to the point.

"Then come back, I've blocked myself out of my own diary for another hour just to speak to you for at least five minutes, I don't like how you left just then." As if your therapist is the one to tell you that they don't like how you left your appointment. It wasn't the point that you were only there today just to be next to him. "You need to come and talk to me." That is the whole point of his job after all, you hung up, throwing your phone back into your bag, undoing your seatbelt and stepping out the car, marching back through the car park and into the building you'd obviously caused an overly dramatic scene in. Agnes called out your name but you kept your eyes firmly locked on Joe's door and pretended as if you had not heard her. Opening the door, you stepped in, impolite for not knocking but Joe had invited you back himself so there was no need for it. His face stared at you with intended purpose, like there was something he himself wanted to say to you but couldn't spit it out.

You moved back to your seat, brown, sorrowful eyes trained on you the whole way there, the creak of his movement turning to face you in the worn leather armchair.

"Hi." He called out apologetically.

"Hi." Your voice was pretty much at the same pitch as his, solemn and dull.

"No judgment. Tell me what you need to talk about. Therapist to patient. That's all." That's all? What more are you both?

"Okay fine." If that's what he wants, let's see him answer this. "What happens when you really feel like you're getting into a deep form of ridiculously forbidden situation-ship with someone which is clearly wrong and there's nothing you can do about it but let it torture you until it finally ends?" Joe's lips pressed into a thin line, his front teeth revealing themselves to chew on his lower lip whilst drinking in the most obviously personal yet unsettling question he had heard in a long time, quite partially because he was never involved in being the reason for that particular kind of ask.

All that was heard between you was the sound of the clock on the wall ticking the seconds by, each one counted by you for the time he didn't choose to answer you straight away. "Come on therapist, your patient's waiting for their advice." He seemed taken back himself by your angsty and sarcastic remark, a lot for him to let sink in which you should appreciate, especially when you had a lot of doubt that he wasn't in the same frame of mind himself.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" You couldn't help the scornful snort of laughter straight from the pit of your throat, moving your tongue from side to side along your teeth to stop you from gritting them.

"No Joseph, it's not." You gulped, you had to say it now or things would just inevitably become worse. "Let me rephrase it." Joe sat forward, shoving his elbows to his knees and resting his head upon his closed fists.

"What happens when my therapist is giving me signals that I'm not entirely sure are real but they seem real because he texts me constantly, inappropriate to anyone who would be a fly on the wall for starters. I feel like I'm digging a hole for myself that I kind of want to get out of but don't want to just in case the tiny glimpse of hope that I hold onto if my assumptions were to be right may not come to bite me on the ass if I was wrong?"

Joe looked down to the carpet, looking slightly perplexed. "I- I- didn't expect that." He stuttered out.

You stood back up, ready to leave on your high horse, probably to never see this man again due to the fact it seemed like he was not on the same path as you. Walking forward, you felt Joe wrap his hand around your wrist, holding you into a halted position and stood to attention; your heart beating out of your chest from the physical contact.

"Stop walking out. You're good at that." Joe's eyes had formed into that of a puppies, you looked out of the corner of your vision to take a look at the defeated frame of your therapist.

"There's no wonder I need therapy, huh." You laughed at your own pathetic attempt at a joke to lighten the mood. He pulled your wrist back, making you take a couple of steps back in fear of tumbling over.

"Please. Sit back down." He let go of your wrist hoping that you would make the right decision. You did. Joe got out of his chair and moved to sit next to you, to close for comfort but enough so that your nostrils could smell the beautiful scent of him, so that you could see his features up close and personal. You decided to be a grown up for once in your life, get through your fears and turned to face him. Joe's sigh became pitiful.

"What happens when the therapist wants nothing more than to make a move on his patient but can't as he has to be competent and professional in his line of work and is scared of not seeing her ever again if he attempted it in fear of her thinking he was a creep?"

Your mouth couldn't of fell on the floor quick enough if it tried, you had to mentally pick back up your jaw, you could feel your chest rising and falling at an impeccable speed. Joe gave you an impossibly beautiful and conquered smile, his eyes burning through into yours; you could almost see the flames alight in his pupils.

"You should of read the signs better." Your face moved closer to his.

"I could say the same for you darling."

Joe closed the gap, his lips pressing into yours, sealing the fate between you of not just therapist and patient now, but as two involved individuals. The kiss was slow at first, Joe moved his hand up and placed it around the back of your head, tilting his head slight to open it up more, you gladly obliged and turned the opposite way, your tongues moving along forward to dance with each other as it progressed further. You wrapped your hands similarly around the back of his neck as you closed the space between your bodies further, the sound of lips smacking loudly over the clock that now became a mere background sound. His other hand caressed at your back, massaging deeply down your spine in his own wanted attempt to feel you as much as he could for now.

The world had stopped for you both, but time moved faster and faster, the pants of your breaths flung together and the little increase of whimpers of sheer want and need directly hummed from each of you, becoming more and more volumized as the minutes passed. Your bodies were clung together needily, your core was screaming for more and Joe's trousers had become seemingly tight across his crotch. He was the kisser you thought he would be, passionate but not to forced. Sweet but not to fast. His lips glued to yours perfectly, fitting like a jigsaw puzzle from the way your tongues danced around each other.

You were interrupted by a tap at the door, Joe ripped himself away from you immediately, shooting up from his now frustrated feeling of whoever felt the need to intervene on your unknown private time; a time that should not be happening.

Joe sat back into his chair, grabbing the notes and placing them to his lap. Another knock at the door.

"Yes?" Joe answered, the door handle slowly opening and another therapist leaning their unwanted head around the door.

"Do you have that leaflet I asked you for earlier?" The woman asked with a swift smile plastered to her face, glancing toward you but then eyes firmly planted straight back onto Joe.

"I'll bring it in once I've finished my session." Joe gave an awkward smile back to her, the woman's eyes furrowing at your notes as she nodded, leaving and closing the door behind her. The notes were upside down. Joe's timer on his phone went off in the same second to announce that the blocked out hour that he had put into place just for you had unfortunately come to an end.

"Maybe we can continue this tomorrow." Joe stated, licking his lips tasting the remainder of where you just were.

"What do I tell Agnes?" You giggled. "It's a little strange me coming two days in a row."

"Just tell her it's unfinished business, she can't argue with that." Joe moved his head back a little as a sign for you to come over to him. You moved faster than your feet could carry you, standing at his knees, and bending over slight to meet his face in a more close and personal manner.

"Until tomorrow then Mr?"

"Quinn." Joe stifled a small huff of chuckle from his nostrils.

"Until tomorrow Mr Quinn."

"I look forward to it pretty girl." He leaned up to win one last kiss from you, groaning at the way you just let him do it again.

Rebooking the appointment with Agnes was easy, she just stated you as full of issues, trying to make an awful joke with you to which you played along with it. As you left, you were in a better state of mind than when you had made your first swift exit out of the building. Getting into your car, you had to sit there for a moment to take in what had just happened, you could of screamed to the heavens for letting this become reality, having proved to yourself that your inhibitions were completely correct. Your thoughts were momentarily interrupted by a buzz from your phone. Joe.

Joe: 'I can't believe how much I want you. You're going to get me fired if anybody finds out.'

You: 'Nobody will find out Joe. It can be our little secret.'

Joe: 'Such a bad influence, I'm not complaining though. Please wear something accessible tomorrow, we might go a little further than first base.'

You: 'Watch your thoughts Joseph, they might get a little tighter.'

Joe: 'Too late.'

#joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

Hi! I LOVE your writing! I was wondering if you could write something about the reader moving in to a trailer across from Eddie’s and he sees her outside smoking all the time and never says anything but he thinks she’s so pretty. One night, Dustin is over at Eddie’s and they see her, Dustin says hi because he knows her from somewhere and he finds out Eddie has a crush on her, talks him into asking her out or tries to play matchmaker!! 🖤🖤

AN | Please, I made this so soft but I love it!🥺🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie Munson had a new neighbor. That’s about all he knew. He hadn’t seen anyone move in, or even seen any signs of life in the trailer when he was around, but he could tell someone was there because the small trailer started to look homier every day. Maybe one day he’d find out who it was, but realistically he didn’t care. More than likely it would have been an older individual, a young couple, or someone that just needed a place to stay for a while.

But no. Eddie Munson had been incredibly wrong.

He learned that very quickly one evening when he was hanging out with Dustin Henderson. The two of them had been working on a new campaign together, and since it was late, he was going to give Dustin a ride home. It would be over his dead body that he let his young protege ride his bike home in the dark.

It happened when the two of them walked out of Eddie’s trailer. There you were, sitting outside your own place, reading some well-loved book as you lazily smoked a cigarette. Eddie never believed in true love; it seemed like one of those cheesy things that was reserved solely for romantic movies or sappy love songs or paintings by a tortured artist. But something ran through him as he stared at you, making him feel a hundred emotions at once and he was positive that time seemed to slow down. Holy fuck. Who were you? How did you seem to immediately get a hold of his heart?

“Eddie?” Dustin’s irritated voice pulled him back to reality as he looked at the boy climbing into his van, “what’s up with you?”

“N-nothing,” he almost choked on his own words, his mouth dry from looking at the angel next door. Neighbor. Fuck. You were just his neighbor who he didn’t know the first thing about. He couldn’t let his vivid imagination run too wild, “nothing. Sorry, zoned out.”

“Let’s go,” he huffed, “there’s pizza waiting at home!”

Eddie cast one last sneaky little glance at you, mesmerized by you and he didn’t even know your name. He hopped into the van and started it, noticing that you looked up for just a moment. You looked away too quickly for him to catch your eye. Soon, he promised himself, soon.

-─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Several weeks had passed since he’d seen you for the first time, and….nothing had changed. It seemed like as soon as he’d seen you for the first time, he saw you all the time. And he thought he would come and talk to you or at least introduce himself. But every time he’d catch even the smallest glimpse of you, he chickened out, heart racing as he ran back into his own home. So much for meeting the girl of his dreams. Whoa. He groaned at himself; he couldn’t let his mind wander that much just yet. He should at least get your name first.

It was another evening of Dustin hanging out with Eddie, but this was the night that everything changed. He realized that was a pretty dramatic way of putting it, but looking back on that fateful night years later, he knew it was a special night.

The two of them were sitting on Eddie’s porch, talking amongst themselves about something or other when you stepped outside. He heard the opening of your door before you popped out, a watering can in hand as you went to water all the plants and flowers you had in the little yard and porch. Eddie was unable to keep himself from staring, enraptured by your siren’s call. But this time Dustin noticed.

“Hey,” he said softly as he looked across the way and realized it was you. He said your name softly as Eddie’s eyes widened, “she works at the arcade on the weekends!”

Before he could do or say anything, Dustin hopped off the couch and ran over to you, calling your name excitedly. You looked up at the familiar voice and your face broke into a big smile; and oh. You had the loveliest smile he’d ever seen.

“Hey Dustin,” you gave him a small wave. Meanwhile Eddie was pretty sure he was going to combust any moment; did you have to sound like that too? You pulled him in for a small hug, “what’re you doing here? You don’t live here do you?”

“No,” he shook his and looked back at Eddie, who was clearly having a moment, “I’m here with him - he lives here. That’s Eddie.”

“Is he…alright?” you asked softly, holding your hand up in a small wave, letting him know it was okay for him to come over, “he seems…off.”

“No,” Dustin sighed, walking back over to drag Eddie to you. He might have been young, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what was going in Eddie’s head. He grabbed his forearm and pulled along with him, not stopping until the older boy was standing directly in front of you, “this is my friend, Eddie. He lives here.”

“Oh,” you liked his eyes; they were big and bambi-like complimenting his pink cheeks and pouty lips. You held out your hand and he hesitated for a moment before mechanically going through the motions to shake yours, “hi Eddie. It’s nice to meet you, finally. I’ve seen you around!”

“I’m not a stalker,” he blurted out and your face entirely changed as the corners of your mouth tugged down in a frown. Before he could put his foot further into his mouth, you laughed sweetly, a sound that went straight to his heart, “I-I-I just, I’ve seen you around.”

“I know what you meant,” you gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and Eddie immediately wondered if he could get away with never washing his flannel again. He could smell you, the soft lavender and vanilla overwhelming him in the best ways, “I’ve seen you around too. I’ve thought about coming to say hi…but just talked myself out of it.”

“You’ve seen me?” Why did he suddenly sound like a pubescent boy? You nodded softly, “I-”

“Whoa,” Dustin interrupted suddenly and Eddie glared at him, “look at time - I gotta get going!”

“Get in the-”

“I’ve got my bike,” he insisted firmly, already backing away, “it’s still light enough, don’t worry about it.”

“Dustin-”

“Bye guys!” he was already running away, both of you watching him. You in amusement and Eddie in worry. How was he supposed to have a conversation with you? He was pretty sure you were some kind of magic, and it rendered him almost speechless. That was a rarity.

“He’s not very subtle, is he?” you shook your head fondly; he and his friends were arcade regulars and some of your favorite and nicest customers. Eddie looked at you in confusion, and you leaned in so you were super close to him and he was worried you could hear the beating of his heart, “this is clearly a set-up.”

“A set-up?” he echoed as you nodded, “whaddaya mean?”

“Silly boy,” your tone was laced with affection as you rocked back and forth on your heels, “he’s trying to get us together. You know - we meet and fall madly in love and get married and have a house with 2.5 kids and a dog. A set-up!”

You shouldn’t have said that. You should have said that. At all. Eddie’s mind was reeling with the thoughts of what you had said and suddenly he was picturing a future with you and some kids and a big, fluffy dog. Fuck. He was in too deep already.

“O-oh,” he swallowed thickly and nodded, “I-I don’t want to marry you.”

“Ouch, harsh,” but you were giggling nonetheless, “am I that offensive that even the mere idea is that horrible?”

“No, umm, what I meant is that I don’t want to marry you yet,” your smile grew as he groaned at him, begging whatever gods were out there for the ground to open and swallow him whole.

“Yet? Ooh,” you felt like swooning too, “so you wanna marry me? How romantic.”

“I-I-”

“Relax,” your hand found its way onto his bicep and you gave him a gentle squeeze of reassurance, “I’m just playing around, Eddie. You have to be so serious or nervous around me - I’m just a big old dork.”

“You’re really pretty,” alright. He was going to super glue his mouth shut because that was the only option he could think of. This verbal vomit was something foreigh to him and he already knew that he despised it, “sorry, I’m just…ugh. I’m not always like this.”

“Don’t worry,” you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I think you’re really pretty too.”

“Thanks,” the dopey, lovesick smile on his face was ridiculous.

“Do you wanna come in?” you motioned towards your place, “I’m home alone, so I was just gonna watch a movie or something. But I’d love some company if you’re up for it.”

He pointed at himself almost as if he wasn’t sure if you were actually talking to him but you just nodded happily, “yeah. I’d love that.”

“Me too,” you reached for his hand and started pulling him, both of you grinning shyly at each other, “I was gonna order pizza if that sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed breathlessly, his heart racing wildly as he quickly realized that this was going to change everything. He ended up being right naturally.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Eddie Spaghetti,” you practically ran in through the door to your shared apartment, excited to see him again after a long day. He was in the kitchen, but stopped what he was doing immediately before he ran to catch you. You jumped into his arms and he spun you around, causing you to giggle. He stopped only once you were both dizzy and breathless. You looked up at him with big, starry eyes, “I’ve missed you so much, honey boy.”

“Missed you too, angel,” he tenderly cradled your face in his hands before leaning in to kiss you. It was a soft, saccharine little thing, but you weren’t satisfied - you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down to your lips, kissing him hungrily. When you pulled back and felt him smiling against your lips, “fuck, you’re perfect, you know that?”

“I’m glad to know that even after almost four years I still make you feel like that,” you pushed a few rogue curls out of his face before nuzzling your nose against his, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he sighed contentedly as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him, “beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Silly, silly man.” you pressed big, happy kisses to the apples of his cheeks before pulling out of embrace and padding to the kitchen. You felt his brown eyes on you, watching your every move intently. You paused before opening the fridge and looked back at him curiously, “can I help you, Munson?”

“I was just thinking-”

“Oh no.”

“Okay, first of all - hush,” he snorted in amusement as he came over and hopped onto the counter, “do you remember the night we met?”

“Of course I do, love,” you leaned against the other side of the counter with your arms crossed over your chest, “you were so nervous!��

“Yeah,” he agreed shyly, “I mean look at you! Girl of my fucking dreams, of course I was nervous.”

“Eddie,” you smiled at him fondly, “you couldn’t have been that nervous…we had sex that night!”

“I was still nervous,” he confessed, “I met the girl of my dreams - funny, smart, beautiful and got to have sex with her that night? And we’re still together? It’s like a weird romance movie.”

“Good thing it’s real,” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, “but where is this going, bub?”

“You joked about me marrying you,” he recalled as you shook your head in amusement.

“And then you rejected me!”

“And then I accepted you after,” he huffed lightly as beamed at him, brighter than the summer sun, “and I just wanted to remind you of that.”

“Because…?”

“Because I’m gonna marry you,” he stated matter-of-factly as you felt your face flush with warmth, “I just…I think about that a lot.”

“Such a sap,” you moved to stand in front of him, standing up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his soft lips, “I think about that too. ‘s gonna be nice, you know? Besides…I like the sound of Munson much better than my last name.”

And just like that his brain practically short circuited again as he looked at him softly. You laughed lightly before touching his face and brushing your thumb over his cheek, “you still with me, bub?”

“Yeah.” he sighed softly, “fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Eddie. Oh so very much.”

“I can’t wait to give you my last name.”

“Me neither,” you whispered in his ear, “don’t make me wait too long, yeah?”

“Fuck. No. Never,” he was practically melting into your touch, “soon.”

“Soon is perfect.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #st

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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

Text

Heavy metal parking lot

eddie munson x metal head fem!reader

summary: the last thing you ever expected was to hit it off with a cute guy at a Judas Priest concert, but stranger things have happened.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, all porn almost no plot, no use of y/n, use of pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl etc.), smoking the devils lettuce, queer!eddie, reader has nipple piercings, dom/sub dynamics, some degradation (but eddie is still a simp), oral (m receiving), unprotected rough p in v sex (this is fantasy, pls don’t have unprotected sex with strangers), anal play (f receiving).

notes: just a dirty little one shot. Sorry, there will not be a part two. Thank you to my loves: @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can & @stwritings for beta reading <3 also, blame @bettyfrommars & @xxhellfiregirlxx for me posting this filth on our holy day.

wc: 3.1k

This was a stupid idea, stupid, stupid.

But here you are driving to the market square arena, an hour away from home, dead in the middle of a scorching summer, alone.

You had this elaborate plan for months, ever since you had bought your tickets. You and your best friend Abbee were supposed to meet up at your house, get ready together, go grab some fuel and head to the show a little early to hang out in the parking lot. That unfortunately is not what ended up happening. You got ready…alone, got food…alone and now you’re making the trip…alone.

You can’t be mad at your friend, she did have a very valid excuse as to why she was unable to make it. You couldn’t help but to kick yourself for never being brave enough to put yourself out there and make new friends, but maybe that would change, maybe you would meet some cool people at the show, some Judas Priest fans seemed like the perfect place to start.

The parking lot was jam packed, men and women in all their Judas Priest or Dokken gear, huge banners held out by adoring fans, beer cans littering the lot as weed and cigarette smoke fog the air.

You finally find parking, lucky for you it seems to be the last vacant spot left, squeezed tight between a red Camaro and a brown van.

Better than nothing.

As you exit your black Honda accord, your eyes flit around the lot, taking in your surroundings as you breathe in the second hand smoke.

“Hey, sick shirt.” A gruff voice towards your left calls out. You look around for a second before your eyes finally land on the owner of the van that's parked beside you.

His brown wavy hair gets hit by a gust of wind, as if he’s some hot character in one of those movies that the protagonist is in love with. You definitely couldn’t deny his hotness.

His defenders of the faith shirt clung to his body like a second skin, tight dark blue jeans with a chain adorned his lower half along with white reeboks.

He had a joint perched between his two fingers as his eyes so boldly roamed your figure.

“Thanks,” you acknowledge, as you look down at your ‘hell bent for leather’ cropped tee, and then back up to meet his mischievous smirk. “Yours is sick, too.” You offer in a small but cheerful voice.

“You wanna come smoke with me, pretty girl?” He offers as the mischievous smile grows, like the grinch who stole Christmas.

“Uhh, sure why not?” You shrug, making your way over to the van and taking a seat on the red carpeted floor, your leather mini skirt now hiked up around the very tops of your thighs while your knee high boots hang out the side, resting on the asphalt below you.

“I’m Eddie.” He declares while holding out a heavily ringed hand, you stare it down ogling between his tattoos, black nail polish and badass rings before placing your smaller appendage in his, you firmly shake it with a smile as you tell him your name.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He chuckles before handing you the dwindling joint.

You take a hit while you let your eyes wander around the inside of his van, a small mattress set up with a colorful quilt and two fluffy pillows.

Various magazines of the adult variety scrawled out haphazardly on the floor, a six pack of coors lite sits on the arm rest between the two front seats, breaking the law plays out through the speakers.

Though he’s not the only one, various Judas Priest songs could be heard throughout the stadium's parking lot.

You take another small hit, passing back the now roach sized spliff. Eddie tries to get one more hit out of it, before throwing it to the ground and stepping on it with the toe of his white sneaker.

You begin to stand up with the thought that you may be overstaying your welcome, until Eddie puts a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to go.” The shy look on his face is the total antithesis of his cocky demeanor when he’d first waved you over.

“Oh, okay. I just didn’t want to bother or keep you from anything.” Your response is sheepish and the butterflies in your belly begin fluttering about.

“No baby, you're not keeping me from anything.” He beams.

That damn nickname pulls you in like a moth to a flame.

As you and Eddie grow better acquainted, you realize he has a great sense of humor with an eccentric personality.

You also quickly realize you want him.

Right here in the back of his van.

You scoot your bottom back, making your way into the wagon. The action causes your skirt to roll up further along your thighs, giving Eddie the perfect glimpse of your black panties.

You swing your feet inside and hoist yourself up on your knees, as graceful as possible. Waddling over like a penguin to fling yourself onto the mattress that had your mind wandering.

“Mmm, this is comfy.” You sigh with a smile, as your body burrows deeper into the off white sheets below you.

Eddie stands just outside the door, eyes unable to leave your backside as you cuddle up on his mattress. ‘Was this his lucky day?’ This shit never happens to him, well at least not with women anyway. He had better luck with men.

Thank you Judas Priest, Eddie silently prays to the sky before making his way inside the vehicle to join you.

“Mind if I lay down?” He mumbles, surprising you with his close proximity.

You turn, catching onto the puppy dog eyes he’s giving you; and what you would give to have them looking down at you while he’s working your body to sweet, sweet release.

“No, of course not.” You giggle, the sound makes Eddie twitch in his pants.

He was a sweet boy, you wanted him to fucking ruin you.

You turn to face him, head resting on your palm as you pat the spot beside you.

The sly smirk returns as he lays down on the mattress, mirroring your exact position.

“Shows gonna start in an hour.” He whispers, scooting in closer towards you, the warmth radiating off of his skin is sending your body into a frenzy.

“Mm, so we have enough time?” You sweetly whisper back.

“Enough time for what? Hmm?” Your bodies continue to gravitate together, a pull so strong it was like you were both attached to magnets.

“For this..” you breathily huff before straddling Eddie’s waist, the groan that escapes him makes your eyes roll back, as you begin to grind down on his growing erection.

“Fuck” Eddie hisses as his hands fall to your waist, now controlling your movements and pulling you in deeper.

“That’s exactly what I intend on doing.” The air gets caught in your throat as a small laugh leaves your lips, your clit catching on rough denim fabric, Eddie swears every time you giggle it’s like an angel gets its wings. It’s sweet and soft, just like you.

You lean in closer, soft plump lips meeting yours in a tangle of tongues, it’s hot and desperate as you are for each other.

Eddie moans into your mouth as your movements get more daring, practically bouncing on his clothed lap. His eyes quickly flicker to your tits as they jiggle with each bounce, it’s clear you’re not wearing a bra, and the idea makes Eddie’s mouth water and his cock stiffen. It feels the hardest it's been since he took a dick in his ass for the very first time. He needs to be inside you and he hopes you're willing to give him that, he’ll do anything for it, at this moment. He feels like a desperate idiot; but he is, he really is so fucking desperate for you.

You immediately notice the way Eddie’s eyes have been trained on the perky slopes of your breasts, with an ever growing smirk you take the hem and hike the shirt up and over your head to be discarded on the red carpet of his van.

“Holy shit!” Eddie practically pants, like a dog who’s out of water.

His decorated hands move up from your hips as they begin to tweak at your nipples, nimble fingers rubbing over the double balled jewelry that sits on each hardened peak.

“Fuck, such pretty tits!” He groans “and they’re pierced, Jesus.” Eddie was enthralled, absolutely fucking enthralled by you.

You lean down, planting soft kisses to Eddie’s long, beautiful neck, leaving behind remenits of your red lipstick and spit soaked bruises.

“Mmm…” he hums as you suck and bite at a spot under his ear lobe.

“Please, fuck me.” You breathily murmur into his ear, before you lift yourself back up using his pecs as leverage, eyes meeting his as you gauge his reaction to your plea.

“You sure, baby?” He whispers before leaving a sloppy kiss to your jaw.

“I’m so sure, please Eddie.” The way you moan his name as you beg for him creates something feral inside of Eddie, his eyes now glazed over into something dark, his jaw tightens as he grabs two rough handfuls of your ass, that are now exposed while your skirt sits carelessly on your lower back.

His right hand slowly glides up your body and into your hair, quickly tightening his fingers around the strands at the base of your neck.

“You want my cock, princess?” He challenges through his teeth.

“Yes, mmhmm, so bad!” You insist with a shout, having your hair pulled has always made you drip between your legs.

“Then go on.. take my cock out, you cock hungry little slut.” He growls as his fingers wrap tighter around your hair before quickly pulling his hand away, he gives your ass one hard spank before he’s back to grabbing at the meat.

You make quick work of his handcuff belt, unbuttoning and swiftly pulling down the zipper before dipping your thumbs into the waistband of both his boxers and jeans and peeling them off, leaving both garments to sit around the tops of his knees.

The sight you’re met with causes you to gasp, he has to be at least 9 inches, it was red and throbbing, wetness from his precum already saturating the mushroom tip.

“Like what you see, baby?” He brags with a smirk that could make Satan himself shiver.

“You’re so pretty, every part of you.” You admit as you lick your bottom lip, with hunger in your eyes.

Eddie wraps a ringed hand around the base of his cock, vulgarly slapping the air with it,

“Where do you want it, huh sweetheart?” His grunt made more slick pool from your needy cunt.

Showing is better than telling, so you plant your knees between his thighs, bringing your face mere inches from his pulsing hard sex.

“Holy fuck, are you gonna—” his eyes roll back as your tongue glides up the underside of his cock, before wrapping your lips around his tip. “No girl has ever given me head.” He huffs while throwing his head back.

You let go of his cock with a wet pop, “no one’s ever sucked your dick before?” You scrunch your face up in confusion, there’s no way he’s never been treated to some head, that would be a travesty.

“I have, j-just not by a-a women.” He stutters out in embarrassment, as his face flushes a bright red that travels down his neck.

It takes you a second to understand what he means, “oh” was all you said, before shrugging and getting back to work on his tip.

He smiles down at you, pulling all of your hair out of your face and holding it together in a makeshift ponytail as he gently guides your head up and down on him, until you’re taking him deeper, so deep your nose is now brushing against the curly hairs at his base, you swallow his tip down before you begin rapidly moving and twisting your head as if a women possessed.

“Oh my— whoa, fuck baby!” He keens into the stuffy air of the van, “your mouth feels so fucking good!” He begins rapidly pumping his hips up, fucking your throat as spit strings fall to his balls, you reach a hand out and begin massaging them, making him growl in pleasure.

“Okay baby, okay angel please, please stop.” Eddie whimpers as he pulls you off of his cock, the spit on your lips remains connected to Eddie’s tip.

He rubs over the messy swollen flesh with the pad of his thumb, as he hums in satisfaction.

“All fours, now.” He commands before shifting up and onto his knees, you crawl further up the mattress, finally laying your head against the sheets that were now dampened by his back, you arch your ass up while making sure your stomach was equally lowered, the position causing your ass to stick out more for him.

“Good girl.” He praised before giving your ass another harsh slap. “Let’s get these off of you.” Eddie slides your black thong over your butt and down your legs, slowly pulling them off from around your feet.

He throws your panties towards the front of the driver's seat, the black fabric lands perfectly on his dashboard. “M’keepin’ those.” He chuckles.

You’re so lost in desire, that someone could’ve told you Rob Halford himself was out signing autographs and you wouldn’t have bat an eyelash or made any attempts to move.

“Fuck, look at these pretty holes.” Eddie groans while running the tips of his fingers from your clit up towards your asshole. “You like getting all of your holes filled, princess?” He smirks at the way your body reacts to him and how loud you moan at his words.

Your ‘yes’ is muffled by the mattress, Eddie’s having none of it.

SLAP!

“Speak up!” He grumbles, before taking both cheeks roughly in his hands and spreading them.

“Yes! I love it!” Your wail has Eddie’s smirk growing more devilish

“I know you do.” He mocks as his middle finger teases your entrance, he causes your body to writhe and groan in desperation by slipping just the tip of his finger in and out of your aching hole.

Finally after all of his teasing, he slips his full finger inside, pumping in and out at a splitting speed.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He gasps while resting his head on your backside as he still works you with his finger, finally slipping another one in and scissoring them in an attempt to stretch you out.

He hasn’t even fucked you, yet you’re still an incoherent mess as slobber begins to pool on the sheets below your face.

His head starts to slowly move closer to where you’re spread, you gasp and wiggle when you feel his wet tongue slowly lick over your puckered hole.

“Oh fuck!” You blubber, the action making you clench around Eddie’s fingers.

“Mm, oh you like getting your asshole licked?” He scoffs in a teasing tone “it feels good, doesn’t it?”

All you can do is nod and sob into his cheap cologne smelling sheets.

Slowly slipping his fingers out as he moves in closer, replacing his digits with his throbbing cock.

“You ready, princess?” He surveys as he runs his calloused hands up and down your back, gently rubbing at your soft skin.

“Mmhm, I’m ready.” You consent while lifting your head to get a good look at him as he slides into you.

His tip begins breaching your entrance as your eyes remain locked on each other, you and Eddie’s brows are both furrowed and jaws slack as he pushes in deeper.

“Oh, fuck!” Eddie growls as he continues to stretch you out. If he were to die in this very moment, he would die a happy man, the way your pussy is squeezing and choking him; he’s fucked tight assholes, but never a pussy this tight and he thinks it might be his new favorite thing, the way you get so effortlessly wet and the ridges on your walls that stimulate his cock so sensationally. The weed makes his mind go to some weird places; maybe I found some kind of holy grail pussy? He shakes his head of the weird thoughts beginning to plague his mind.

“Yes, right there!” Your screeching brings him back down to this dimension, making him drive deeper and pound harder into you, hitting that spongy spot over and over until you’re shaking underneath him, knees almost buckling at the intense pleasure that is now conquering your body. His fingers are pressed so deep into the skin of your upper thighs, that you’re positive they’ll be bruised by tomorrow.

“Right there?” Eddie mockingly smirks as he hits it over and over with his tip, “that your spot, baby?”

Your “mmhmm” comes out so whiny and desperate, he knew you were close and so was he but he needed to see you fall apart first.

Eddie quickly brings his thumb up to his lips, the calloused finger dipping into his mouth as he sucks, getting it all nice and wet before you feel it prodding your unused hole, he begins thrusting faster as his digit reaches the second knuckle. “Oh my god, you have the tightest fucking holes.” He sounds so out of breath and fucked out by this point, his loud groans, filthy words and extra finger are making you reach that peak of toe curling completion at a hurdling speed.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whine as you begin to back up into his thrusts, making his cock and finger hit deeper depths.

“Yes, cum for me baby.” He urges as he’s on the precipice of his own high.

“Yes, yes…” you babble as your body tenses, uncontrollably shaking as you come undone, Eddie’s thumb continues to work your asshole, while he fucks you through the most intense orgasm you’ll probably ever have.

“I-I’m coming baby, fuck!” Eddie shouts before he pulls himself out of your tight heat, hand maniacally working his cock until his warm seed spurts into your stretched out asshole.

“Holy shit!” He groans while his body falls over yours, you both begin to laugh until you hear someone pound their fist on the side of the van.

“Hey, Eddie—” you gasp at the disturbance, eyes going wide when you catch a glance at the metalhead, “the show's about to start man, everyone’s lining up at the door!” The raspy masculine voice calls out again, before you’re left in silence.

You and Eddie begin frantically getting dressed in hopes to get a good spot in line.

Once out into the fresh summer air, Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders, “you wanna watch the show with us, princess?” He proposes with a sweet grin, while lighting a cigarette.

You were right, a Judas Priest concert was the perfect place to make new friends.

taglist:

@michellecrusher @ali-r3n @crybabyddl @definitelynotecho @ajkamins @daniellabrandt @bl4ckt00thgr1n

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie munson fic

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