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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 2 years

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Not Quite Dead

Ship: Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: You find yourself alone in Hawkins, a town ripped to shambles despite the sacrifices made to save it. Is it better or worse that Eddie doesn't live to see it? He'll tell you himself.

Word Count: 6,085

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of Eddie's fate s4e9, not-quite-flashbacks, a tiny bit of a plot, implied (years previous) sex

Notes: This story takes place after season 4. Reader is Eddie's longtime girlfriend.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Maybe it was best he had no gravestone. The whole town would deface it if he had one. You could see it in your head: tiny little carrots like the ones your English teachers used to mark your papers with, except the carrot would change the name engraved to Eddie 'the freak' Munson. Or maybe they'd just spray paint over his name, or even try to scrape it off, and just write 'the freak' in its place. Or 'murderer' or 'cult leader' or whatever insane shit they thought he was. There would be pentagrams, disgusting graffiti, everything that shouldn't be on his grave—but already decorated his missing posters—would find a home there.

So maybe it was better that there was nothing to commemorate him. But it hurt, just a little bit, to see graves for Chrissy, for Fred, for Patrick—but nothing for the hero of Hawkins.

Not that it meant much to be the hero of Hawkins. There was a line at a constant stand-still leading out of the town, most people desperate to get out of it. Those that stayed lived in fear and muttered about how the Devil had finally come to drag Hawkins to Hell. The ground was still broken and sunk in from the ruptures that had healed only slightly—just enough to no longer be glowing scars in the ground leading directly into what really was Hell.

Everyone was speculating what the cave-ins were. Some people said it was from an earthquake, and that was the most popular theory. Some said it was the result of Satanic activity, and those were the people that defaced Eddie's posters. Some said it wasn't quite Satanic, but definitely paranormal.

You knew what it was. You couldn't talk about it. Not because you alone knew what it was—your friends, the kids who had gravitated toward Eddie and the recent Hawkins graduates who hadn't actually gotten a graduation, knew what had happened. They knew what the ruptures were. They had been trying to get you to join in on their conversations and talk to them about the ruptures, what you had seen in the Upside Down.

But you couldn't talk about it. They knew why. It had taken you almost two months before you could even say your boyfriend's name or look at his destroyed missing posters.

Normally, you told your friends everything, especially Robin, who had been the first person to accept that you and Eddie were a thing. She had been your closest confidant since middle school, when you saw Eddie play for the first time and had an instant crush on him. But you couldn't even talk to her these days. You couldn't tell her that you still woke up in a cold sweat, that you still needed to listen to the tapes of unfinished Corroded Coffin songs that were mostly just Eddie's voice just to get to sleep, that you would zone out only to realize you were crying seemingly over nothing, that you had gone to the store to pick up more of Eddie's cologne because you'd been wearing it and had used it all up already, that you took a shower every time you woke up from an accidental nap because it still felt like you were covered in blood, that you slept in his leather jacket even though it was way too hot for that, that you wore the ring he'd frantically pressed into your hand as his breathing faltered on your necklace, that you refused to delete any of the numerous voicemails on the phone in your room because they were all of Eddie calling you with something for a campaign in his head he wanted to run by you.

And you definitely couldn't tell her that none of these little reminders actually helped, because, at the end of the day, you still had to go to sleep alone after six years of having him just an arm's length away. And there was nothing worse than realizing, every time you turned around to tell Eddie something, that he wasn't there, and that he wasn't ever going to be there again.

You hated Jason. You blamed him for dragging Eddie into this mess. But you understood him now. If you hadn't known about Vecna and the Upside Down, you would have been more than happy to blame someone for Eddie's death, just like he had blamed Eddie for Chrissy.

You had tried so hard not to get Eddie dragged into your life. You'd gotten sucked in when you found Nancy crying in the bathroom after Barb went missing, and your life had gotten a lot more complicated after that. Eddie had always had enough enough on his plate as it was. You never wanted to make it worse.

But then Chrissy—

"Y/N? You okay?" Robin snapped her fingers in front of your face. She looked worried, and you had a feeling she'd been trying to get your attention for a long time. Steve and Nancy, sitting on a picnic blanket with the boys, Max, and Eleven just a few feet away, looked over at you, terrified. Dustin seemed to be the only one who knew exactly why you'd been in your head instead of in the park.

"Huh?"

"You zoned out again," she said, sitting down beside you. "At first I thought it was just because Steve's yapping about girls again, but, uh, then I realized..." She wiped her finger underneath your eyes, and you felt the tear smudge across your cheek. You flinched away violently. Robin went pale. "Oh, God, he used to— Oh, Y/N, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize—"

You took a shaky breath and swiped your knuckles under your eyes. "It...it's fine. I just...sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, that was totally my fault, I should have realized—"

"No, please. It's fine." You sniffed, breathing out through your mouth. "I'm fine. I just...need a minute."

You got up quickly, your head reeling instantly, and you stumbled toward the public bathroom just feet away. You balled your hands into fists. You went to open the door and something slammed into your arm. You screamed upon recognizing what it was—a bat.

You stumbled backward away from it, your throat tightening and every muscle seizing up. It wasn't a demobat, sure, but it was still a bat. All it took was one glance at its mouth and you could hear Eddie's heavy panting, feel his blood, see the tears on his face, feel his rapidly fading heartbeat beneath your fingers, hear him crying but trying to hide it from Dustin.

The bat chirruped squeakily, hopping toward you on the ground. One of its wings was a bit mangled and bloody, dragging awkwardly behind the rest of its body.

You whimpered, stepping around the bat. "I'm sorry, little guy, but I just really don't like you. Robin says you have...rabies. Or—or something."

No, that was definitely not why you didn't like bats, but you didn't need to explain to the broken creature—or to anyone else, for that matter, including yourself—that you didn't like them because they'd torn your boyfriend apart.

With a quiet whimper, you slammed the door of the bathroom shut behind you. A small thump echoed against the door. You had a feeling it was the bat.

You locked yourself in one of the bathroom stalls and put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your tears, just in case Robin or Nancy came to check on you.

~❊~

That night, you stared at your empty bed. You touched the pillow made out of the red and black flannel Eddie had loved to wear when it was cold out. Wayne had given it to you almost immediately after Dustin had told him about Eddie.

"This is...this is yours now," Wayne had said, holding it out to you. You'd tried to protest that no, he should keep it as a memento, but Wayne was having none of it. "He would have wanted you to have it, Y/N. I...I'm sure he told you often, but you were his world. He'd want you to have something of his."

And you did, you really did. You wore the flannel around everywhere, to anything, anywhere, at any time, before it became too much of a memory. Any time you caught a glimpse of it or put it on, you remembered the time he wrapped you up in it after getting caught in the rain, or the time he used it as a pillow for your head when you got busy in his van, or the time he wrapped it around his waist when it got unexpectedly warm. So you cut it up and made it into a pillow case, because that was a little more bearable.

You hugged the pillow to your chest as you lay in the darkness of your room. It still smelled a little bit like him, even after being washed quite a few times. And even after being cried on many, many times.

Tonight was going to be one of those nights, a night where you were crying even before you fell asleep and woke up in the morning, you could just tell.

Head buried into the flannel pillow, you almost didn't hear it. The small thump on your window. But after a few seconds of silence, it registered in the back of your head that that was not normal. The last time you'd heard that sound was when Eddie knocked before crawling through your window at night, some three years ago, before your parents gave up because you loved the metalhead, try as they might try to get you to fall for the jock.

You rolled out of bed and flicked on the light, pushing up the window and shoving your head out into the night.

Nothing.

A chirrup.

You looked down and squeaked.

There it was again, the bat with the mangled wing, resting on the slanted shingles of your roof—one of them out of place from the time Eddie had given you a heart attack by slipping on it. You frowned at the bat, a little less terrified of it than the first time you'd seen it. "How did you get up here, little thing?" Your room was on the third floor of your house, but it seemed impossible that the tiny thing could fly up there with a broken wing.

Ignoring Robin's small voice in your head saying it probably—no, definitely—had rabies and was following you, you reached out a hand and stroked the top of its head. To your surprise, it made a very human-like coo.

"Oh, you just want love, don't you?" You sighed as you took in its wing. "And maybe some help. Look, little one, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. You terrify me." Because you killed my boyfriend, even though you didn't actually kill my boyfriend, and neither did your actual species, but tomato, tomato. "Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you why."

You shut the window and curled yourself around your pillow once more, reaching a hand up to the necklace you refused to take off—the one with Eddie's ring on it. You held the ring tightly in your hand, and it was still there when you jolted awake in the morning, covered in sweat and panicking just like always.

But before you took your usual shower, you glanced out the window.

The bat was gone.

~❊~

"I think I'm going insane."

You sat with Dustin on a park bench, by the edge of the graying field. The disease—or whatever it was, but the townspeople called it a disease—was spreading further and further out each day, but you still hadn't figured out exactly what it was. Nancy was sure it had something to do with the vision Vecna had shown you, but you didn't have the mental or emotional strength to help them figure it out.

You'd seen the bat several more times—at the record store where you worked, at the autobody shop Eddie used to work at, at your front door, on your car, on the sidewalk, through your bathroom window, and several more times by your bedroom window. You didn't know what the others would do if you told them you were seeing the same bat everywhere (Robin might tell you to get checked for rabies), but you trusted Dustin to take you seriously and...and not tell you that you were crazy.

"Why?"

"Because there's a bat with a mangled wing that's following me everywhere."

Dustin frowned. "Go on."

You explained, in detail, every time you had seen the bat. As usual, Dustin put it all together in record time.

"And you think that you're hallucinating the bat...because it's always showing up when you're thinking about...Eddie?"

You nodded. "And more than that—there's something special about each of those places. That sidewalk? Not a random sidewalk! Outside the restaurant Eddie took me to on our first date six years ago. Bedroom window? He always crawled through to come see me! My front door? Whenever I was upset, he'd surprise me with a big bouquet of flowers outside on my front step."

Dustin frowned. "There's...something special about Eddie and your...bathroom...window?"

You blushed. "It's not what you're thinking, I swear, he accidentally broke it once."

"He what?"

"He was waving around an old stick and it broke and flew through the bathroom window. It's nothing creepy, I swear."

Dustin raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure your parents loved him?"

"Eh." You sighed, putting your head in your hands. "I don't know, Dustin. It's just... I feel like I'm losing my mind. Hallucinating. I just don't know why it would be a bat, of all things! I mean...they...or something like them, really..." You put your head in your hands. "Why would I see a bat everywhere that means something to the two of us?"

"He liked bats," Dustin remembered. "In fact, he liked them so much he had a tattoo of them. Maybe that's why?"

"I mean, that would make sense if the demobats hadn't—"

"I know," he sighed. "But now you can't think of the tattoo, you just think of—"

"Blood," you said bluntly. "His blood. His death. Yeah."

"Has anyone else seen the bat?"

"No."

Dustin was silent for a moment, then said, "Alright, fine. Take me somewhere that meant a lot to both of you, another one of those special places, and if you see him, maybe it's a hallucination. But if we both see him, it's not. Then we'll figure out what it is after that."

You thought for a moment, then dragged Dustin to his feet. "I know exactly the place."

~❊~

It took some bribing, but you got the bartender of the bar the boys loved playing at to take you around back to the dressing rooms. You refused to tell Dustin why it was special, other than that the band played here all the time, but you were pretty sure from his expression he figured it out as soon as your eyes darted to the desk and you turned red. You remembered bursting through that door and seeing Eddie perched on the desk, swinging his legs like a little kid because the show had gone so well, and—

"Oh, no," Dustin groaned, jolting you out of your reverie, "don't tell me that you two actually—"

"Fine, I won't tell you."

"You know, saying that is almost worse."

"Oh, shut up, Dustin. We were together for six years, there's not a chance in hell that we didn't—"

"But in a dressing room? A public dressing room?"

"The door was locked!" you said defensively. "Although he did get quite loud that night."

"NOPE, no more!" Dustin said, clamping his hands to his ears. "Alright, fine. It's special. Gross, but special. Why here?"

You flopped into the chair at the desk, remembering Eddie's feet kicked up on it while the two of you kissed and giggled, his back to the mirror. "Two years in, Eddie and the band had a gig and he finally let me, y'know, get on my knees for him, so to speak. It was the second time we ever did anything, so, you know. Special."

Dustin was making a face.

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up, we were sixteen and horny."

He sighed, sitting down on the small couch, the only other piece of furniture in the room. "I'm actually not all that surprised. Seems like Eddie."

You smiled to yourself. "Yeah. Seems like Eddie."

Dustin folded his hands together. "I miss him, too, you know. I miss him being dramatic and standing on tables. I miss the voices he used to do during campaigns. I miss play fighting with him."

You hugged yourself, letting your leg swing. "Yeah... I miss his voicemails, because he'd called me while I was at work when he had an idea. I miss listening to him sing on stage. I miss just hanging out in his room while he wrote songs and I studied. Shit, I even miss watching him get frustrated when he was trying to learn a song on the guitar and it wasn't coming to him. You should have seen him trying to learn Master of Puppets. He was nonstop playing that guitar. I swear he didn't sleep for a week just so he could get it down. I used to tease him he was trying to pick up girls."

"He didn't want other girls," Dustin said, picking up on that old insecurity that used to bubble up all the time. "He wanted you."

"That's why it was teasing, Dusty. There was a time when I was afraid of that, but that was never his fault. If Eddie was one thing, he was loyal to a fault."

Dustin sat in silence, clearly working up the courage to say something. You waited, letting him find the words. Eddie had always done the same thing when he wanted to talk about something that meant a lot to him. No wonder the two of them had clicked so quickly.

"If I could go back to that moment," Dustin said, voice almost imperceptible, "when he decided to draw them away, when he cut the sheet and just—just ran... Y/N, I would. I would go back, and I would change everything. I'd make him go first. I'd...I'd do what he did instead, just to make sure he got back to you."

You looked up, your heart breaking at the absolute sorrow and anger in his voice. "Dustin..."

"If I could have died in his place, I would do it." He was shaking with his fierce determination. "Y/N, I swear it."

You got off the desk. "Dustin, hon, no. Please, no. I don't...I don't wish you had died instead. I wish none of you had to die. I wish Max wasn't blind, I wish Eddie wasn't gone, I wish none of this had ever happened. I wouldn't trade you, any of you, just to get Eddie back because he would have hated that more than anything and because you are my friends."

"But one of us would hurt less than Eddie," Dustin mumbled.

"Dustin," you said, because you could think of nothing else to say. You pulled him into a hug.

And then there was a chirrup in your ear.

You screamed, lurching back, automatically swatting at your shoulder. The little bat fell onto the couch beside Dustin and he squeaked at you, almost accusatory.

"Oh, don't start with me, you scared the life out of me!" you snapped at it, then frowned. "Dustin, did I just argue with the imaginary bat in my head?"

Dustin was staring at the bat. "Yes—you argued with it, no—it's not in your head. I can see it." He stood up slowly. "I thought you said it had a mangled wing?"

You peered at it. "I think it's healing. Look, it's still dragging behind the rest of it, but it's not bloody anymore."

The bat chirruped again, inching closer to you. You slowly extended a hand, the bat's head following your movements. You gave its head a little pet with your forefinger. It sniffed you before chirruping again.

"It looks like a Mariana fruit bat, but this the wrong area for it," Dustin said from behind you. The bat's attention swiveled to him. "Hi, little guy. Where'd you come from? I don't think you got here all the way from Guam. Especially not as a baby."

"Is it a baby?"

"Look at the size of it! It's tiny, there's no way it's not a baby."

For some reason, the bat didn't seem to like being called tiny. It clicked rather angrily at Dustin before flying awkwardly out the window, open just a crack.

"What the hell?" Dustin muttered.

"Well, now you've met the bat," you sighed. "I wonder if I should name it."

"Don't name it! Robin'll think it gave you rabies."

"That's why Robin doesn't get to know about the bat."

"You haven't told her?"

"What would I do that for?! Just go up to her and say, Hello, Robin, I've been adopted by a bat, the same creature you're deathly afraid of because it has rabies! That'll go over swell, I'm sure."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "No need to be dramatic. It's not like the bat's done anything to you. Yet."

"Yet being the word Robin would pick up on. Look, for now, let's just keep it between us. Figure out why the bat likes me. Then go from there. If it's something to do with Vecna, then we'll tell them."

"And if not?"

"I'm sure it'll go away when it's fully healed. That's gotta be why it's following me. It's injured and not thinking straight."

~❊~

Storms had become even more and more recent in Hawkins. The weather was reflecting the foul of mood of the townspeople—or perhaps of Vecna, if Eleven was right. You were almost entirely certain she was.

But you couldn't put your finger on why Vecna hadn't attacked yet. Why would he let his displeasure show through the torrential showers that were ripping shingles off of Hawkins rather than just come through to kill everyone off himself?

You were debating exactly that as you sat through another storm of hurricane strength, staring out the window and waiting for it to be over. Sometimes the storms were only a few seconds long, but this one felt like it was going to last for days.

You sighed and rolled off your bed, flopping on the floor beside your collection of cassette tapes. There had to be twenty Corroded Coffin tapes in there, but you were looking for one specific one. It wasn't quite a Corroded Coffin tape, really, because Eddie never let the band see this one—this one was just for you, songs he'd written when you couldn't look over his shoulder to see the words.

It took a little bit to find the tape, but once you did, you felt immeasurable relief. You played the tape and cracked open your window enough to smell the rain, leaning your back against your bed and closing your eyes.

Eddie's voice flooded your ears as he started the little speech he'd written for the first song. He'd written one for each song, explaining why he'd written it and when or something special about it. He'd been adorably embarrassed when he handed it to you, blushing profusely and apologizing about how stuttery he was when he'd recorded it and how his voice was a little shaky and how they weren't exactly what he wanted them to sound because he didn't have the band to do the background music. But you'd loved them all.

"Hi, sweetheart. Happy seventeenth birthday. Belated, sorry, but I, uh...I couldn't get all these perfect in time, so... So I waited. Um. They're still not as perfect as I'd like them to be, but, uh. But you deserved your birthday gift before you thought I'd forgotten about you. Uh. Yeah. So. Ah, jeez, I didn't think an introduction would be this hard. Maybe I should have had a script," his recorded voice said with that little breathy laugh you'd always loved. "Um. Anyway. This...this first one. I wrote it a while ago, actually, for you. Like a long while ago. Like when I first realized I liked you a while ago. Probably before you knew I existed. I'm talking middle school early— Maybe I should stop talking about how long ago I wrote it. Um. Sorry. Rambling. Uhhh...it's about how I felt that first time I saw you. A little cliché, yeah, but, um...every word's true. Every word, sweetheart. I really did fall in love with you at first sight. I mean, how could I not, when you looked over at me and smiled like that, that shy smile with your tongue poking out between your teeth and bottom lip. I love that smile. So, um. So I called it 'Shy Smile.' The song. This song. So, um. Here goes nothing, I guess."

And, oh, could that boy sing. Corroded Coffin might have been a heavy metal band, but Eddie could certainly manage the soft songs just as artfully. He had the perfect voice for it, a gentle croon that had sometimes lulled you to sleep.

You remembered very clearly Eddie singing the songs he wrote for you and smoothing his hand over your hair to get you to sleep when you were stressed or upset. And it had always worked.

Recorded Eddie hummed through his guitar solo and your chest tightened. You drew your legs up, settling your head on them. "Oh, Eddie, you have no idea how much I need you."

And then, a few songs later, he was crooning about how much he loved you, promising never to leave you, telling you he'd always be by your side.

The tears came suddenly and didn't stop. Your body shook violently as you sobbed, his name somewhere in between the sniffles and cries. You dragged the flannel pillow off the bed and wrapped your body around it, burying yourself in his familiar, if faint, scent.

It took Eddie's voice in another song's introduction to ground you again. "Okay, baby, I've got a happier one for you. Well. Not that they've been sad, really, just...this one's less sappy. Even though I know you're a sap, and I'm a sap, and we're just two hopeless romantics." God, you could hear his smile. "This one's about that day we spent at Lover's Lake. That was...such an—an awesome day. And I promise it's not about the sex in the van, I want you to be able to listen to this with your parents around." A beat, which you managed a shaky laugh during. "Not sure if you can now, now that I've...that I've said that. Well, just let me know, I'll make you another tape without the introductions if I gotta. And don't you say it's too much work, because I'll do anything for my girl. Got that? Anything. Okay. Here we go, I called this one 'Lake Swimming.'"

You wiped your eyes. "It's okay. You're okay. You've still got him like this. And that's all you can have now."

In the midst of the softness of Eddie's acoustic guitar, you heard it. The chirruping. Your head snapped toward the window, and there was the little bat, clinging to the window and trying desperately to squeeze through the tiny crack.

You lurched to your feet. "Oh, you poor thing! Out in that storm all by yourself. And so little!" It squeaked. "Oh, right. You don't like being called little. What's that about?" You pushed up the window, cupping the bat in your hands. "Oh, oh no, you're shivering!" You closed the window with your elbow, cuddling the bat close to your chest. "Robin would so kill me for this."

The bat chirruped.

"What is it? Do you want to be put down?"

The bat sniffed your hands and attached itself to your shirt, crawling up you until it had reached your shoulder. It perched there.

"Um. Okay, then," you said, sitting back down carefully. "I wonder if you're hungry..." Well, you had some fruit in the fridge, and a fruit bat would certainly eat that, right? "Can I put you down so you don't freak out my parents?" You gently plucked the bat from your shoulder, nestling him on the flannel pillow. "Um. Stay. I'll be right back."

You hurried downstairs, grabbing the container of fruit from your fridge with a flippant excuse that you were just a little hungry. The bat was sitting exactly where you left it when you returned and offered it a piece of fruit.

It crawled into your hand and munched down on the fruit. You sat back on the floor, turning the volume on Eddie's tape up a bit more. "I hope you don't mind my boyfriend's music, my friend. It's quite good, if I say so myself, and I don't think I'm just biased. He's really good." You sat in silence, propping your head up on one of your knees again. "I miss him."

The bat looked at you curiously. You put it and the fruit on your floor, reaching for a framed photograph of yourself and Eddie instead, with his arms slung around you from behind and a smile on his face as you kissed his cheek. You vision blurred as you lifted the photo to your lips and kissed it gently.

"I'd give anything," you said to the bat, staring fixedly at Eddie's happy face, "just to see him again, just for a few minutes. Just to...to get a better goodbye. To kiss him goodbye and hold him and make it as peaceful as possible. To tell him it would be alright. To tell him I love him. To tell him that I miss him. No. No, I wouldn't tell him I miss him, because then that would make him feel guilty, and how can you feel guilty about dying? I mean...it's not his fault." You wiped your eyes. "I'd just...I'd want to make him feel better. Peaceful. I don't...I wish he hadn't gone out the way he did, y'know? In pain. Crying. Knowing what was coming. Having to say goodbye to—to Dustin." You laughed shakily. "Oh, God, Eddie. I'm going insane. I'm talking about you to a bat." You looked down at your feet. "A bat that's now missing in my house. Or maybe he was never there in the first place and I'm just crazy."

"You're not crazy," said his smooth voice, and your head whipped toward the cassette player. Since when was the quality so good? A small chuckle from behind you. You froze. "Wrong way, sweetheart." And two fingers, one marked by a tan line where a ring would have been, slipped under your jaw, turning your head slowly.

His eyes—his sweet, pretty eyes—stared you full in the face. Your eyes took him in, noticing the scars on his face and his hips. You studied him, drinking in every hollow in his gaunt body. But you knew those tattoos. You knew those eyes. You knew that voice.

You blinked rapidly, subtly pinching your arm. He laughing, covering your hand with his own.

"You're naked, Eddie," you said, and you realized seconds after they came out that they were not the words you wanted to be saying. You clapped your hands over your mouth, face heating.

Eddie shrugged. "It's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Eddie, you're..."

"Nope. I'm not."

"Eddie, I was there, I saw you die in Dustin's arms!"

"Nope," he said again, and you could finally hear how tired and haggard he sounded it. "Unfortunately not."

"Unfortunately?!"

He shrugged. "I think being dead would be better than my fate." He pointed to the fruit left on the floor. "That's the first I've eaten in almost three months."

"You— The fruit? You were the bat?!"

He nodded.

"Right, okay, mister, what the fuck?"

He sighed. "So no loving and tearful greeting for the not-dead boyfriend?"

"Eddie. Talk to me. And then maybe I'll cry over you. But I want answers first."

Eddie leaned against you, cuddling his body closer to yours. Automatically, you reached an arm around his shoulders. He made a chirruping sound similar to the sound of the bat he'd been only minutes before. "Truth is, I don't have a lot of answers. All I know is that I died in the Upside Down, then woke up here as a bat. And then I tried to not be a bat, of course, but that didn't help. I just broke my wing. Not sure if that means my arm was broken or...something. I'm sure that'll be an awkward doctor's visit in the future. Point is, once I figured out I couldn't...change form or whatever you wanna call it, I tried to find you, but it's all different when you're a bat. I had to pick up your scent, but I couldn't."

"So that day at the park, by the bathrooms—"

"I'd finally caught sight of you. After that, I figured I should try and stay close. I thought maybe you'd figure out it was me somehow, if I was obvious enough."

"Which is why you always found me at our special places."

Eddie sighed his relief into your shoulder. "Exactly." He wrapped his arms around your waist. "Oh, sweetheart."

You brushed a hand over his hair, your shocked brain not quite realizing that he was really there but already falling back into the routine of your relationship. "So how'd you get human again?"

"Dunno. I think you made me cry and it made me feel human enough to be around you, talking about me and listening to my music." He looked into your eyes. "I do feel guilty. About not being able to tell you sooner that I was still kicking. I...I know it was hard for me, but...I was kind of scatterbrained. I couldn't quite process being alone. But you... You had everything to deal with, all those emotions."

"We'll talk this out in the morning."

"Why not now?"

"Because you're shivering against me. You were a soaked bat about three minutes ago, and now you're a very naked boy again. Let's get you warmed up, okay? I'll run the shower."

Eddie whimpered with relief at your words, clinging to you as you helped him to stand up on wobbly legs. You helped him into your bathroom and shower, joining him to make sure he wouldn't fall on his own. He clung to your arm as the two of you attempted to get him warm and clean.

"Your clothes are soaked now," he mumbled, but still pulled you into a tight hug against his chest.

"I don't really care," you whispered. "I'm holding you again."

When you shut the shower off, you made Eddie sit on the floor as you fetched him clothes.

It wasn't until you'd gathered clothes—all of them his, some of them (like the shirt) given to you by Wayne, but most of them (like the pants and boxers and socks) were from Eddie leaving them behind at your house for the nights he snuck in through your window—that it truly hit you that he was back.

He wasn't just back, he was alive.

Your Eddie.

Alive. Safe. In your bathroom. Home where he belonged.

You dropped the clothes as you fell to the floor, sobbing with relief. Eddie came running into your room, kneeling beside you.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong, what happened? What can I do? Is it me?"

You pulled him closer to you, burying your head into his neck. "Nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong, Eddie, everything's perfect. Back to the way it should be. You're here."

He wrapped his arms tightly around you. "I'm here," he promised. "I've got you."

You cupped his face in your hands, kissing him softly. He whimpered against your mouth, missing you as much as you missed him. You pressed your forehead to his as he scooped you up and laid you gently on your bed. He pulled away from you, picking up his clothes and pulling them on. He laid beside you, pulling you back into his arms.

"Don't you ever make me think you're dead again, Eddie Munson, you hear?"

He kissed you again, arms sliding around your back. "Loud and clear, sweetheart."

"Good," you whispered into his mouth, "my little bat."

Eddie smiled against your lips. "Not little."

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Eddie Munson

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the E.M. taglist!} @ohatropa @lilylilyyyyyy

#season 4 stranger things #stranger things #stranger things au #au stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #bat eddie #stranger things eddie #fix it fic #stranger things fix it

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canisalbus · 6 months

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✦ Trick or treat ✦

#own art #own characters #CanisAlbus #art #artists on tumblr #Vasco #Machete #anthro #sighthound #dogs #canine #animals #modern au #comics #Halloween is a cool holiday but it isn't as big of a thing in Europe #trick-or-treating in particular is extremely uncommon #and even if some families do it you don't really go knocking on strangers doors it's just not good etiquette #tell me how your day has been so I can live vicariously through you

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undreaming-fanfiction · 28 days

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What if Steve is a famous model and Eddie is a rockstar, both still pretty down to earth that they move around without bodyguards...

They bump into each other at a corner, and literally bump into each other - Steve somehow lost his contact lenses and he's half-blind without them, his agent Robin is traveling, he'd rather lose both of his eyes than to call his parents, and so he's trying to get to a pharmacy/optometrist/somewhere else just based on memory and touch.

Eddie is walking, not paying much attention and listening to music, when he's knocked back by a very apologetic squinting guy who might as well be very pretty, if he looked straight at Eddie - which is very much not possible, as Steve later explains, Eddie is a very blurry blob to him, although a very kind blob. Also a really nice sounding blob.

When Eddie collects his things and his heart off the streetwalk, he offers to walk Steve to the pharmacy. After asking if it's okay, he offers Steve his arm and leads him carefully to his destination. Steve is still mostly staring at the ground, trying to fight blurry nausea, so Eddie doesn't really know what he looks like, except that his hair is magnificent.

They reach the pharmacy, Steve is so thankful that he wants to invite Eddie for coffee, but before he can do that, Eddie receives an urgent call from his agent and needs to leave.

They both - not without a tinge sadness - think they won't see each other again.

Except the next day there's a wave of tabloid headlines: "CORRODED COFFIN'S EDDIE MUNSON FINALLY SETTLES DOWN?! THE ROCKSTAR SEEN WITH REDKEN'S MODEL STEVE HARRINGTON!" and there are pictures of Steve and Eddie, side by side, and it really looks like a romantic walk rather than what it was.

When Eddie's agent Chrissy calls, half-amused, half-concerned, Eddie stops her with a single sentence: "Can you get me his number?!"

Chrissy snorts in the phone. "Give me an hour."

It takes her 33 minutes in total, and she secures a date with Robin for herself as a bonus.

And as for Eddie? He opens his message with "Hey Steve, how come you never told me it was a date? I would have brought flowers!" and gets an immediate response of "You would have, huh? Then bring some today at seven, the pizzeria next to the pharmacy. I like sunflowers. See you there, Eddie. And this time, I mean really see you."

The "see you" jokes stay with them for the rest of their lives.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things drabble #steddie au #steddie fanfiction #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham

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toktopus-art · 1 year

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what if?

#stranger things #stranger things fanart #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #s2 AU let's gooooo

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plasticcrotches · 13 days

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Wayne Munson helping a wolf out of a bear trap, only for said wolf to start bringing him deer and rabbits and sometimes weirdly cash? And none of the raccoons have been digging round his trash like they usually do…

He gets a knock on the door one day and it’s his old buddy Jim Hopper with that Harrington kid standing sheepishly behind him, with his arm wrapped up in bandages and a long cut running through his brow. Hop cuffs the kid on the back of the head and then the boy is stepping forward and apologizing, then saying “thanks again, sir.”

It takes Wayne a few days to piece together that the boy is his wolf.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #wayne munson #steve harrington #jim hopper #werewolf!steve #stranger things au

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fifthnailinstevesbat · 14 days

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thinking about married teacher steve and rockstar eddie.

steve’s students like to poke fun at him for “not being cool” or “trying to be cool”, and steve just feeds into it and plays up his cluelessness to modern things and what’s “hip” nowadays. he always just tells them they have no idea, and they’re gonna eat their words one day when they see how cool he really is, but all the kids just laugh and think he’s being sarcastic.

one day a group in his class is talking about the popular rock music star eddie munson, about his music and how much they love him, and steve joins in, asking them about eddie and what kind of music he makes and so on. he says something like “oh yeah, i think i know munson. yeah he’s cool, makes good stuff” and the kids are like “as if you know eddie munson, mr h, there is no way”. steve just chuckles and says “if you say so”

meanwhile eddie EATS EACH STORY UP when steve comes home with a something new to tell him all about what his kids were saying to him today

honourable mention but eddie also is WEAK for steve’s teacher outfits, the button ups, the vests, when he wears a tie WITH his glasses consider eddie a dead man.

on the last day of class for the year steve has given his class almost a free period of sorts to just chat and muck about being that it’s so close to vacation and all, and ofc the topic of steve’s uncoolness comes up again, and he’s just all laughs and smiles not even trying to fight back while they poke harmless fun at him, just looking smug as shit knowing these kids are in for a treat.

the bell goes and they all start to pack up their things to leave, and steve calls out to get their attention, remember the homework, stay safe, have a good break and all that, but THEN who else walks through the classroom door but eddie. munson. heading straight towards steve telling him “hey babe, ready to go?”

“yep, just let me grab my stuff” steve says back, and the class is stunned silent. eddie walks over to steve’s desk and puts a hand on his back as steve is leaning over it putting books and pages into his bag, “you guys are all free to go” he looks up to the class, smug as ever.

as he and eddie head towards the door, steve stops and turns around back to his class one last time, whisper shouting over his shoulder “who’s cool now?”

eddie is laughing infront of him as they walk out together, listening to the classroom they’d just left erupt into chaos.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #teacher!steve #teacher steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #steddie au #steddie headcanon #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4

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steviesbicrisis · 7 months

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A Barbie AU where the Kens decide, in order to get some recognition, to get individual names.

Steve, who’s just a Ken very good with kids, is having an identity crisis after his Barbie, journalist Barbie, broke up with him.

Not even picking a name as unique and special as Steve, so much different than Ken, managed to cheer him up.

Everyone keeps saying he should be happy about the change, and discover who he is outside of Barbie’s orbit, but he can’t see what was so wrong in their relationship. He loved waiting all day for Barbie to look at him, even if it was for a brief second.

As if going through an existential crisis wasn't enough, he has to do it under the constant mocking of his archnemesis, Ke- Eddie.

Eddie, with his long curly and annoyingly gorgeous hair, who has a sense of style he would give all of his rollerblades for, and who's always there to notice whenever Steve makes a mistake.

Eddie even has his Barbie still by his side, cheerleader Barbie, and every time Steve sees them together he gets a sick feeling in his stomach, like a tummy ache. Doctor Barbie visited him a couple of times and found nothing wrong with him, he imagines he's a little jealous of Eddie for being with a Barbie.

Steve talks about this with Polyglot Barbie, his best friend, annoying her to death.

"Why are we talking about Ken, again?" she interrupts Steve's retelling of his last encounter with Eddie.

"It's Eddie" Steve corrects her.

"Right," she nods. She's very supportive of their silly-name-thing (how most Barbies call it), but she still has trouble remembering all the names, "why are we still talking about him?"

They're hanging out at the park, sitting under a tree, Barbie's leg on top of his, and they're holding hands. It's nice. Steve is happy to have a best friend like Barbie.

Steve looks up, meeting Eddie's gaze. He's sitting at one of the picnic tables not far away from them, doing nothing besides glaring at Steve.

Barbie squeezes his hand to get his attention back, and Steve looks away.

"Because he keeps tormenting me! he's even glaring at me right now, I'm gonna get stress wrinkles!" Steve finally replies, in a distressed tone.

"You're being dramatic," she says, matter-of-factly, "Eddie isn't so bad with you. You know, he kinda treats you like his Barbie."

If Steve had a beating heart, it probably would've stopped right at this second.

"What?"

"You know, he's always looking for you, he is always giddy whenever you give him a crumble of attention. He hangs out where you hang out... why do you think he's sitting all alone at a picnic table, just staring at you?"

"Maybe he's waiting for his girlfriend" he suggests.

"Are you talking about Cheerleader Barbie?" she giggles, "she's not his girlfriend, trust me."

"But he picks on me! all the time! Like this morning, I tripped and he made a comment about my legs!" He gestures at his legs with his free hand.

Barbie tilts her head to the side "you mean this morning at the beach when he held you in his arms for ten minutes to prevent you from falling and Barbie had to tell him to let you go?"

"… yeah” he manages to say. He hadn’t realized how long Eddie held him in his arms, he was upset about almost falling in front of him, but he also liked the feeling of his arms around him.

Everything feels different now.

Barbie's look softens "How does this make you feel?"

"I don't know" he answers, honestly "I just can't stop thinking about him."

A loud noise at their right startles them off of their conversation. They turn around to see Eddie lying on the floor, a trash can at his feet.

Steve doesn't give himself the time to realize that Eddie has probably heard their entire conversation and has tripped on that trash can because of it, he just rushes to Eddie's side to help him out.

Eddie stammers while Steve pulls him back up, not making much sense.

Steve is used to see Eddie as an intimidating guy, someone to compete with for Barbie’s attention. He never realized how much he liked to have Eddie’s attention instead, nor how he loved to give that attention back in equal amount.

“Nice legs” he tells him, repeating the same words Eddie told him that morning.

Eddie stops his incoherent stream of words when he hears him “what?”

“You heard me” Steve says.

“I did” Eddie admits. He pulls the trash can back up, to have an excuse to not look at Steve when he asks “you can’t stop thinking about me?”

For some reason, that’s the easiest question Steve has ever had to answer to “yes, I can’t.”

Eddie jolts back up startling Steve, the trash can falling out of his hands and hitting the ground once again.

“Cool” he says, using all of his willpower to hide his excitement by keeping a relaxed face, failing miserably.

“I guess” Steve grins. Knowing he has that effect on Eddie is making him the most confident he has ever felt in his life.

“So, since you can’t stop thinking about me…” Eddie repeats, in a tone that Steve would’ve mistaken for a mocking one until few hours ago “…we could hang out on the beach later. I’ll bring my guitar.”

“I’ll bring mine too then” Steve replies immediately.

Eddie panics “We can’t both have a guitar!”

Steve crosses his arms on his chest “who says that?”

Eddie opens and closes his mouth a couple of times then mutters, defeated, “fine.”

“Great!” Steve takes a step forward and gives Eddie a peck on his cheek “I’ll see you later.”

Eddie, who makes a face again trying to hide his excitement, nods and turns away “cool.”

He walks away slowly, towards the park’s exit. Right by the gate, he throws himself into an hedge. Steve can clearly hear him when he screams words along the lines of “FINALLY”, “I HAVE A DATE” and “SUBLIME”.

Steve turns to Robin who has witnessed the whole thing, while Eddie is still screaming random words from the bushes.

“I think I’m in love.”

#I’ve been wanting to write this since I saw the movie #but it never felt right #this is the best I could do lmao #in case it wasn’t clear I’m making fun of Steve for going from basic name to basic name lmao #I love him #I just think they’re neat #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve and eddie #steve x eddie #platonic stobin #barbie #Barbie au #Steddie au #steddie au Barbie

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littleststarfighter · 7 months

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Blue masquerade, strangers look on

When will they learn this loneliness?

Temptation heat beats like a drum

Deep in your veins, I will not lie -Cry little Sister.

On insta I said I was going to do a special picture for Friday the 13th as it's also my birthday. And everyone seemed to agree it was to be Lost Boys or Steddie. So here's Lost Boys Steddie. Steve thinks it's just an innocent beach date and he’s embarrassed by his ketchup accident. And Eddie is trying so hard not to reveal his not so innocent vampire tendencies. Or you could say I just wanted to draw cute guys in leather 😁

prints + patreon

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #the lost boys #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie fanart #my fanart #stranger things au #vampire eddie munson #gay vampires #Sorry for the photo background i was being really lazy

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multiworlds666 · 11 months

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#au stranger things #max mayfield #Stranger things #sadie sink #millie bobby brown #jane hopper #Eleven #Tvd #the vampire diaries #crossover #katherine pierce #elena gilbert #stefan salvatore

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 2 years

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Your Favorite's Here {pt. 2}

Ship: Eddie x fem!Henderson!reader

Summary: Dustin realizes he has made a grave mistake in not telling Eddie about his older sister. Meanwhile, Eddie becomes painfully smitten with a girl he's met once.

Word Count: 1801 (oops, shorter than intended)

Warnings: sibling content, mutual pining, fluff

Notes: For clarity, this takes place in an AU Stranger Things timeline after S4, where Eddie survives and graduates and we are ignoring the finale.

{part 1} // {part 2} // {part 3} // {part 4} // {part 5}*

*coming soon!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

This was, perhaps, the longest shift of your life. Ever since Eddie and his bandmates had left, you had been looking at the clock, watching the hands move impossibly slowly. It wasn't that you were desperate to be out of work, not like normal. It was because you knew the instant you got home, you were going to corner Dustin.

How could he have not told you that he actually knew the band with the ridiculously attractive lead singer he insisted you go see all the time?

You met a lot of people working at a restaurant. Hell, you had met a lot of guys at Everett's—conventionally attractive, reasonably behaved men who were more than happy to flirt with you and make eyes at you over their drinks. There were even one or two you'd considered cute enough to go out with, not that you ever actually would. But holy shit. You have never seen a man as attractive as Eddie Munson.

Sitting there in his leather jacket and an Iron Maiden shirt, he'd looked terribly out of place in the dim, romantic lighting and steel grey interior of Everett's. You'd caught sight of him the instant he walked in because his bandmates were ridiculously loud in the normally quiet restaurant, and you'd known immediately he felt uncomfortable. His cheeks had been a few shades too dark and he wore an awkward smile that screamed how much he knew he was detested by the restaurant's regular patrons. He was seemingly trying to hide his face behind his hair.

At first you'd expected the night to be...eventful after they walked in. Surely they would be rowdy, just to piss off the regulars, and they'd probably refuse to pay Everett's high prices. But any time they got too loud, Eddie was whispering at them to shut up.

You hadn't recognized them at first. They had gotten rid of the heavy makeup that obscured them when they were playing, and their clothes were a little more muted than when they were up on stage and in the floodlights. It wasn't until they mentioned it had been a big night for their band that it had clicked for you.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

You stopped fixing your uniform in the bathroom mirror. "Yeah, Dustin, I hear you, stop shouting!"

Dustin burst in through the door. "Y/N, we have to go, Corroded—" He caught sight of your uniform. "You're working tonight?"

"Yeah, it's a Friday. Why?"

Dustin pulled a face. "Because Corroded Coffin finally sold out an auditorium and we absolutely have to go see them, this could be the start of their whole career! And they've got new music they're playing tonight!"

And oh, that was tempting. As much as you pretended to be just a regular fan for Dustin, you loved the band with all your heart—almost as much as you loved Queen. Corroded Coffin made wonderful, beautifully written music.

But you had college debts to worry about. You had your rent to worry about. You had general living to worry about.

You sighed. "Maybe next time, Dustin. I've got to go to work."

He looked heartbroken. "Can you call out?"

You shook your head. "I can't this time. Maybe next time, but I've got to pay off some of my loan next week. I can't afford to fall out of the grace period." You twisted your ring uncomfortably. "Hey, invite Steve to go with you this time!"

"He doesn't like metal or rock music," Dustin complained.

"Maybe you can convince him he's wrong. Which he is." Dustin giggled. You ruffled his hair. "Next time. And I promise to take you to buy their album when it comes out."

Well, maybe you had missed seeing them play today. But they were sitting at a booth in your restaurant, and it was one of your tables.

"Deep breath, girl," you told yourself as you mixed the band's drinks. "It's fine, it's totally fine, you are just...meeting some of your idols. Who are your age. And are really cute. And the really, really pretty one is very shy and keeps looking at you and—"

"You talking to yourself over there, Henderson?" asked your favorite coworker.

You blushed. "Er, yeah, sorry. Just...thinking."

She raised her eyebrows. "They givin' you trouble, honey?"

"No, no, not at all. I just know them from outside of work." You were about to say they were your favorite band, but decided against it. You were already a bit of an oddball at work with all your rings and the fact that you talked to yourself. No need to make yourself even more conspicuous.

You finished with their drinks and brought them over, trying not to shake as you set them down and took their appetizer orders. You gazed at the lead singer—the beautiful Eddie Munson—the whole time, finding an intensity in his stare that matched the burning in your chest.

Shit. Dustin Henderson, you are in so much trouble for not setting me up with this man.

~❊~

By the time you got home, Dustin should have been asleep. But he was not. His bedroom light was still on, visible through his curtains.

You waited a few minutes to get changed out of your uniform and take off your jewelry. You washed your face and went through your usual nighttime routine, then poked your head down the hallway leading to Dustin's bedroom.

His light was still on, seeping out underneath his door in a golden puddle.

Well, that was that.

You pressed your ear to the door and heard Suzie's familiar voice. You knocked on the door. "Dustin, you got a moment?"

Dustin made a garbled sound. "Um...five minutes!"

You leaned against the wall in silence, hearing him trying to wrap up his conversation with Suzie. Even though it took longer than five minutes, you didn't rush him. They were adorable.

Dustin opened the door. "How was work?"

"Y'know, pretty good actually."

He raised his brows judgmentally. "Even though you had to miss a Corroded Coffin concert?"

You cleared your throat. "Yeah...about that. When were you going to tell me you know Eddie freaking Munson of Corroded Coffin personally?"

Dustin gulped. "Uh...what?"

You pushed him toward his chair and flopped onto his bed. "They visited Everett's, Dustin! They came to Everett's! They came to Everett's."

Dustin's eyes popped out of his head. "Corroded Coffin went to Everett's? Why would they go to a rich person's restaurant, they're dirt poor!"

"Dustin!" you chided, throwing his pillow at him. "Be nicer to your friends." Dustin blushed. "C'mon, Dustin, you could've told me that we were going to see your friends play. I still would have gone."

"You would?"

"Of course I would have gone! Eddie's totally my type, and if you like his music, hell yeah we're going to see him and his friends play!" Dustin shouted his victory. You shushed him. "Shh, shh, shh! Mom's asleep!"

"I knew you totally had a crush on Eddie!" he whisper-hissed. "I knew it!"

You rolled your eyes. "You are totally giving me a formal introduction."

Dustin groaned. "No. No. No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because you two will get along like a house on fire, and then I have to deal with it!"

"Dustin! Getting along with Eddie is the entire reason why you should introduce me. He'd be like...your older brother!"

"Ew! Ew, ew, ew, stop that!" Dustin shoved you out of his room, his cries of disgust punctuated by his and your laughter. He shut the door on your face. "Not another word about Eddie!"

You grinned to yourself, heading to your room. You'd given him your shifts. You could only hope he was as into you as you were into him.

And judging by the fact he walked into a table just to hold your gaze... Maybe it was like something out of a novel, but that had to mean something, right?

~❊~

Dustin had about five seconds of peace on Saturday, when the group met for another Hellfire session outside of school at Eddie's trailer. Now that Eddie, Jeffe, and Gareth had graduated, the DnD sessions had moved to the weekends to keep the campaign going. And then Eddie was skidding to a stop in front of him, holding his palms up and keeping Dustin stopped in front of him.

"Why didn't you ever tell me your sister is a fucking fan of my music?!"

Dustin groaned. "Oh, not both of you!"

Eddie perked up immediately. "She asked about me?"

He sighed. "She's pissed at me for not telling her about you."

"And I'm pissed at you for not telling me about her!" Eddie said with a snort.

Dustin huffed, sitting down in his chair at the table.

"She's perfect," Eddie said, flopping into his seat with a dreamy look in his eye. "She's...she's gorgeous, Dustin, absolutely gorgeous!"

"C'mon, man, that's my sister!"

Gareth snorted. "Yeah—that's his sister. Like you kept saying Friday night when we tried to get you to ask her out!"

"Guys!" Dustin complained.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "You should have seen him. He was tongue-tied."

"All red and blushy," Gareth teased.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up."

"You'd think he'd never talked to a girl before—" Gareth stopped, a teasing smirk growing on his face. "—when we all know he and Chrissy—"

Eddie hid his face in his hands, groaning.

Gareth laughed hysterically. "See! See, there's the Eddie we all saw on Friday."

Dustin pulled a face. "He was like that, and my sister still thinks he's hot?"

Eddie's head snapped up. "She thinks I'm hot?"

Dustin sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything. I should not have said anything."

Eddie folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. "She thinks I'm hot," he repeated, his voice dreamy and far away.

Gareth nudged Dustin. "You're screwed, man. He's already head over heels."

"She gave me her shift schedule," Eddie murmured softly, playing with his hair.

"She did what now?!" Gareth was nearly shrieking. "And you didn't tell me?"

"You were drunk and pestering me, no, I didn't tell you!" Eddie complained.

Dustin sighed. "Are you going to go visit her?"

Eddie took note of the tone of his voice: dejected, almost disappointed. He pulled himself back to reality, his smile falling. "Look, man, if you don't want me to, I won't. But I really, really want to."

Dustin bit his lip. "It's not that I don't want to, it's..." He sighed. "If anything goes wrong, I have to live with both of you. So don't be awkward if it goes wrong."

"Who says it's going to go wrong?" said Gareth, watching Eddie lean back once again, putting his arms behind his head. "She's got Eddie wrapped around her finger."

"That's what scares me."

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Eddie Munson // Part 2 of 'Your Favorite's Here'

#eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #au stranger things #corroded coffin #part 2 #part 2/5 #dustin henderson #eddie x henderson!reader #stranger things #your favorite's here

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riality-check · 8 months

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Steve, realistically, shouldn’t even be at this show. He doesn’t care about the band, he didn’t want to make the drive, and he had to bring Anna along because he couldn’t find a babysitter.

But he was going to suck it up to go with Dustin, who immediately bought tickets to see his favorite band when they went on sale. Who called Steve this morning to inform him, somehow both solemnly and frantically, that he had the worst food poisoning known to man, and, that until he stopped puking and shitting at the same time, he could not leave the bathroom.

Steve very much did not need to know that.

With Dustin went the rest of the Babysitters’ Club, all of them having eaten the same shady pizza and suffering the consequences. The only exception was Mike, lactose intolerant but cursed to take care of his idiot friends.

He texted Steve to ask if he had extra bleach. Steve dropped it outside the house because no way in hell was he entering that building.

Dustin assured him, amidst too much detail and shockingly disgusting background noise, that both tickets shouldn’t go to waste, and with no one able to babysit Anna, Steve should take advantage of both.

So, here he is. Standing in the first level - Dustin couldn’t get floor tickets, thank God - of a show for a metal band he has no intention of ever listening to and holding his four-year-old daughter, who has bright pink ear defenders looped around her neck in preparation for when it gets really, really loud.

“When are they starting?” she asks for the fourth time in as many minutes, with a sigh too big for her little body.

“In a few minutes,” Steve says, keeping an eye on the stage, where he watches the crew set up. Mad respect for them hustling so hard. He could never.

The seats are slowly filling up, and Steve feels a little sad for the first opener, a little sad that they don’t have a full house for their set.

A group of four guys takes the seats right next to Steve, with a pale, long-haired, big-eyed guy right next to him. He’s got tattoos on his arms and rings on all his fingers and a silver bar through his upper ear.

And he’s arguing emphatically with his friend next to him.

“I’m telling you, American Psycho is more recognizable!” he says, hands flying. Steve discreetly makes sure he and Anna aren’t within striking distance. “Not to mention cheaper!”

“A prop chainsaw,” his friend - a short white guy with shorter but equally wild hair - says, “can’t possibly be that hard to find by tomorrow.”

“We already have the axe!”

“I’m with Eddie,” the big white guy at the end of their group says. “I’m a sucker for American Psycho.”

“Okay, but I’m the guy who has to use the props,” the fourth friend, a Black guy with short braids who looks annoyed at this conversation, like they’ve had it before. “And I think I’d have more fun with the chainsaw.”

Eddie - the guy with long hair and heavy jewelry and hands with a mind of their own - rolls his eyes. It’s a full body movement, one that has him spinning to face Steve. When he does, his face cycles through a myriad of emotions too fast for Steve to really track.

“Hi, pretty boy,” he says. His eyes then dart down to Anna, who stares at him with her head cocked to the side. “Pretty dad. Dad. Pretty. Hi.”

“Eddie,” the short guy cautions.

“Yeah, sorry, anyway, can you be a tiebreaker for us?”

“Sure,” Steve says. Anna squirms, so he lets her out of his lap to stand, holding her hand all the while. “What do you need?”

“American Psycho or Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” the big guy asks.

“You gotta give him context.”

“No, I don’t, Jeff.”

The guy who said he’d be using the props - whatever that means - rolls his eyes and stops fighting.

“What’s American Psycho?” Anna asks, choosing the best time to pay attention to the conversation, like always.

“A movie you’re too young to see,” Steve says. “And the one I’m picking out of those two.”

“Oh, thank you,” Eddie says, using a tone that better fits Steve saving his drowning dog or something. He then turns to the rest of his friends and says, “I fucking told you!”

Anna gasps. “You’re not s’posed to say that!”

Jeff smothers a laugh behind his hands, while the other three guys stare at Anna, half confused, half admiring.

Eddie clears his throat, looking significantly abashed. "Sorry, Miss-"

"Anna," she says.

"Anna," Eddie finishes. Then he turns to Steve. "And you are?"

"Steve. No Mister for me though. I might be a dad, but I'm not that old."

"You are old, Daddy," Anna says.

Steve frowns down at her, where she stands at his feet. She's smiling, mischievous like she always is when she says something along these lines. "I'm not that old."

"Yeah you are! You're like, you're like, like, fifteen."

Jeff gives up on hiding his laughter.

"I'm older than fifteen," Steve says gently, trying not to laugh.

Anna’s jaw drops. “You are?”

“Thank God for that,” Eddie mutters, then shuts his jaw with an audible click.

Steve tried to come up with an answer for that, but someone comes on a mic and starts playing the drums, so he moves the defenders over Anna’s ears and pays attention to the show instead.

It's... fun, he guesses. Fun if he were into it, maybe. The first opener has a lot of energy, even if the music isn't melodic enough for Steve's taste. He finds himself tapping along to the steady beat, moving slightly in his seat to the music.

It's nice background noise. He'd put this on while he grades papers. It's steady enough to fill his head but doesn't have a whole lot of lyrics he could get distracted by and sing along to.

Eddie and his friends, meanwhile, are having the time of their lives. The short guy - Gareth, Steve thinks his name is - mimes the drum part of each song with startling accuracy. Archie jumps up and down, Jeff absolutely screams along, and Eddie-

Anna stares up at Eddie, eyes wide and jaw slacked as she watches him bang his head to the music.

Steve almost snaps a picture of it, this little moment, before the second song ends and Eddie snaps out of his zone.

He shakes the hair out of his face, then looks down at Anna, who's still staring at him. "What?"

She cocks her head to the side in a mirror of his. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The," she pauses, then starts shaking her head really hard, side to side. Steve puts a hand on her shoulder before she slams into the chairs in the row in front of them.

Eddie laughs. "The headbanging?"

"Yeah," Anna says, nodding.

"It's a way I move to the music," Eddie explains.

"Like dancing?"

"Sort of," Eddie says. "It's easier. I look stupid when I dance."

"You're not s'posed to say that," Anna tells him solemnly. "Right, Daddy?"

Steve meets Eddie's eyes. Even with the lights down, they're big and pretty and reflective, and Steve is going to kick himself so hard if he chickens out before he can get his number.

"Right," he says, still looking at Eddie. "We're not supposed to call ourselves stupid."

"Sorry," Eddie whispers.

"Don't be."

Anna tugs on Steve's hand, then Eddie's. "Teach me."

"Anna," Steve cautions.

"Can you please teach me?" she corrects.

Eddie glances down at Anna, then back up at Steve. "If it's-"

"Go ahead," Steve says because Eddie has more than passed the vibe check at this point.

Eddie crouches down as a new song starts up, and while Steve can't hear what he's telling her, he sees her smile, bright as day.

By the last song of the first opener, Anna is headbanging along with Eddie, off-beat in the say little kids always are but more than making up for it with effort.

Steve gives into the impulse to take a picture.

When the first opener finishes, Steve picks Anna back up and takes her ear defenders off.

"Woah," she says. "Can I keep them-"

"Nope," Steve says. "They stay on when the music is on. You heard it fine, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you-"

"I have my earplugs in," Steve says, pointing at them.

"So do I," Eddie says, and when he moves his hair back, sure enough, there are black earplugs nestled in his ears.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to wear earplugs," Steve says.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to come of a metal show," Eddie counters.

Anna climbs out of Steve's arms and onto his back, where she loops her arms around his shoulders and just hangs, like she does sometimes when she gets bored.

Weirdo kid, Steve thinks affectionately.

"That's because I'm not," Steve says. "I was supposed to come with a friend, but he got sick."

"Yikes," Eddie says. "You coming tomorrow, too?"

"I am," Steve says. "Are you?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, like he didn't expect Steve to ask that. "Yeah, we'll be here. Not in these seats, though."

The lights go back down before Steve can ask what he means by that. He reaches behind him, scoops Anna back down on the ground, and puts her ear defenders on by the time the second opener strikes a scary-sounding opening chord.

Anna doesn't look scared at all. From the moment the music starts, she looks up at Eddie, and when he starts headbanging, she does, too.

Yup. Steve has effectively created a monster.

He contemplates, if Dustin is fine by tomorrow, skipping out on the show and giving his ticket to Anna, but that means not seeing Eddie again.

He really wants to see Eddie again, even if he won’t have the same seats.

Whatever that means.

Steve decides not to focus on that. He decides instead to focus on the moment. He listens to the music. He lets Anna take his hand and dance with it. He bops his head along with hers, but not too hard because he can’t risk aggravating his whiplash.

He enjoys the show, even if it’s not his cup of tea. It’s easy to enjoy the show, with Eddie next to him. It’s easy to enjoy his wild hair and pretty jewelry and big eyes and contagious enthusiasm.

It’s easy to see the way Eddie looks at him.

It’s also very easy, after the venue clears and Anna falls asleep in the car on the way home, to forget to ask for his number.

Shit.

(Part 2 is alive!!)

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #dilf steve harrington #corroded coffin #dilf and concert #d&c au

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 months

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I love a good florist Steve, but what I love even more is a good but naturally bitchy florist Steve.

He'd have his own flower shop and years of dating experience behind his belt. He is not just a good boyfriend, he is THE good boyfriend. Going to his shop isn't just to buy a bouquet of flowers, oh no. It's a whole relationship coaching thing, he teaches husbands to do better, gives courage to teenagers asking their crushes out, gives advice regarding flower language to elderly ladies who just want to be slightly passive-aggressive...you know, the normal thing.

He has a catalogue with flower pictures to help people who have no idea what the flowers are called, they just know they were orange and didn't easily wilt.

He shows a local teenager the cheaper but still fancy options and throws in a bunch of free flowers that aren't really up to his standards. "Okay, you say she likes pink flowers. Does she like things to be a bit more decorated or does she prefer simplicity? You don't know? Okay, can you describe what she normally wears? No, I'm not being creepy, but you can sometimes tell the person's preferences from their clothes. Now answer or leave dateless."

He chats with the elderly ladies of Hawkins when they ask for a flower to gift to their fellow church ladies when they host their meetings. He cackles when he hears some of their orders. "Oh wow, Ethel, a yellow hyacinth? Would you like a gift card with that, something like sorry you're such a jealous hag? No? Of course I know the meaning, it's my job."

"Are you expeting her to say yes to the date with that atrocity on your face? Yes, I know it's a moustache. But it's also an atrocity. Shave it and thank me later. Now, would you like a ribbon for that bouquet?"

And most of all, he grills the unlucky conservative men in Hawkins who come to him for flowers for their wives without any idea what they like. "I see, so you want something pretty. What does your wife like? Flowers? Well, that's not specific. What kind of dresses does she wear? Expensive? Can you tell me anything about your wife's personality? ...nagging. No, I can't just mix something together, unlike you, I take pride in gift giving. Okay. I don't think this is a shop for you. Yes, that's what I'm saying, I won't play a part in your wife's disappointment. Oh sure, go take your money elsewhere, but I can give you this advice for free - you married a unique human being, so treat her like one. And if you really want a happy marriage - maybe come back when you learn something about her as a person. No need for that language, have a good day, sir."

For those that are more receptive, he goes through their partners' personalities and hobbies, suggesting date options and absolutely roasting the bad ones. "A football match. When your girlfriend hates sports. I don't care if it's your boys playing, you can try telling her that this is important to you and you'll take her out another time, but if you try to pass this as a date, you'll be single before you say "sorry". A date is for you as a pair, not for you only."

But the best thing his shop brings him is Eddie Munson, who sneaks in, absolutely ready to be roasted, and asks for a bouquet of bright colorful flowers for his best friend Chrissy. "She just got divorced from her asshole husband and I want to show her that she can have nice things. Platonically. But she deserves so much more. Uh...she really loves warm colors, so maybe yellows and oranges? What are they called...gerberas! She likes gerberas! And she likes things to be a bit messy and imperfect, so maybe some leaves there as well? A green ribbon would be nice."

And Steve just beams at him as he gets to work and says "Oh wow. Whoever your partner is, they are so lucky if you remember all of these things even for your friends. Makes a guy jealous."

Eddie just wiggles his eyebrows at Steve and mutters, "that position's sadly open. Has been for a while. Interested?" and he almost faints against the counter when Steve turns around.

Eddie is ready to run.

But Steve just fluffs his hair, reapplies his lipgloss and asks: "Where do I apply?"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #florist steve harrington

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ahhrenata · 1 month

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Steve’s singing quietly under his breath and eddie’s just 🤩 completely distracted.

as always, inspired by @sparklyslug 💕

#steddie #steddie Star Trek au #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanart #stranger things au

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m00npiez · 8 months

Text

Modern Steddie AU

“Oh she’s cute.” Robin points over to a table near the bar.

Steve follows her finger and the blonde in the pink pleated skirt is, in fact, very cute. “You should go talk to her.”

Robin gives him a look, “Literally everything about her screams ‘straight’ so no thanks,” she takes a sip of her cocktail, “Don’t feel like getting humiliated today.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “I doubt she’d humiliate you but suit yourself.” He stands and fluffs up his hair a little, “If you won’t, I sure as hell will.”

Before his friend can protest, Steve’s strutting over to the girl’s table. She looks up at him when he stops and leans slightly against the chair opposite from hers.

“Hi!” she greets before he can say anything. Her whole face lights up as she smiles. She’s definitely cute, but not exactly what Steve had in mind for the night.

“Hey,” Steve flashes his own smile, “I was just telling my friend how cute you are and wanted to know if I could maybe buy you a drink?”

Her face goes pink, but her smile falters slightly and a small frown forms. “Oh that’s so nice of you, but I’m actually a lesbian,” she seems genuinely upset at having to break this news to him. “I’m really sorry, you seem lovely.”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly, but his smile remains, “Oh, god, sorry I should have asked,” he laughs, “That’s totally my bad.”

She shakes her head and leans forward in her seat, “Not at all, sweetheart!” there’s a slight southern accent slipping through and her smile is back. “You couldn’t have known, I know I don’t exactly look the part.”

“Well, since I’m already here,” Steve smirks, glancing over his shoulder to where he can see Robin watching the scene unfold. Her eyes snap away once she realizes he’s looking at her. “My friend over there is single and also extremely gay.”

Chrissy looks over and her smile turns coy, “Now she’s cute,” her eyes snap back to Steve. “She’s the one who told you to come over?”

“The opposite, actually. She thought you were straight so, I came over instead.” Steve explains.

Chrissy nods, glances over her shoulder and then stands. “Well, I’ll just have to go over there then.”

Steve smiles, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Chrissy.” The blonde extends her hand and Steve shakes it. “Thank you for letting me know the girl I’ve been eyeing is queer.”

Steve gives her a two-finger salute and goes to walk away, but she grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Do you like men, by any chance?” Chrissy asks, her smile alluding to something.

“Is it that obvious?” Steve laughs.

She gives him a once-over, “The tight shirt sort of gave you away.”

“Fair enough. Why do you ask?”

Chrissy points over to a curly-haired guy covered in tattoos, who’s ordering at the bar, “You should go talk to my friend, Eddie, he’s been blabbing about the hot jock in the polo since you walked in.”

Steve swallows, he’d seen the guy when they walked in, but hadn’t allowed himself to look. He was the kind of hot and scary Steve usually avoided due to their usual disdain for preppy guys like Steve. But surely if he kept Chrissy around, he couldn’t be all bad.

“I don’t exactly seem like his type.” Steve points out, giving Chrissy a nervous glance.

She laughs, “Oh please, pretty boy with big eyes and a great body? You’re everyone’s type.”

“Not yours.”

“Trust me honey, if you were a masc lesbian I’d be all over you right about now.” Chrissy winks and Steve can feel his face heating up.

“I don’t want to bother him…”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Just use the same line you used on me, he doesn’t bite.” she pauses, “Unless you ask really nicely.”

Yeah she isn’t exactly easing his nerves with these little jabs.

“He looks like he carries a knife.” Steve’s just stalling at this point.

“I know he seems kinda mean and scary, but he’s really just a big ol’ softie, trust me,” she pats his shoulder, picks up her drink and starts walking towards Robin, “Now I’ve got a pretty lady to talk to, so get! Go make a move on the scary metalhead, Steve!”

Steve watches her go, his amusement growing at the sight of Robin’s panic when Chrissy plops down at their table.

Mustering up the courage to walk to the bar, he turns but immediately bumps into someone. The person manages to steady their drink and somehow prevent Steve from falling on his ass, grabbing him around the waist.

“Shit sorry!” Steve finds his footing, only to nearly lose it again when he looks up to find his face a few inches away from the aforementioned friend of Chrissy’s.

Eddie smiles, squeezes Steve’s waist once before releasing him, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”

Steve’s face must have been bloodshot at that point. Two people had called him sweetheart within the span of a few minutes. At this rate his brain was going to malfunction entirely.

Eddie studies him for a second, his eyes twinkling, before looking over to the now unoccupied table. He frowns, looking around the bar.

“She’s over there.” Steve points to where the two girls are deep in conversation.

Eddie’s eyes look from Steve to Chrissy and back again. “Were you heading back there?”

“Uh, no, actually,” Steve clears his throat. Why was it so hot all of the sudden? “I was told to go talk to the scary metalhead?”

Eddie’s grin returned, showing off his dimples. Steve was allowing himself to stare at the man now, and god was he stunning.

“Scary? That’s rich coming from the girl who literally carries a knife with her.” Eddie sits down at the table and looks at Steve expectantly, “I don’t bite,” he gestures for him to sit, so he does.

“Apparently you do if I ask nicely,” Steve says, then feels his face heat up again when he hears what he said.

Eddie laughs, loud and beautiful, “God, she really knows how to play wingman, huh?”

#this is just a little experiment #had this idea at 3am #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #steddie au #modern steddie au

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rip-quizilla · 9 months

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1405 Peach Tree Lane

Pairing: Older!Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You like to watch your older, tatted shirtless neighbor now his lawn. He likes to watch you laying by your parents’ pool in those swimsuits that make his mouth water. Eventually, the inevitable happens when he invites you across the street for a drink.

Word Count: 8.2K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, spitting, light dom/sub, unprotected sex (reader has an iud), oral sex, p in v sex, shower sex, masturbation in a hot tub

(A/N: This is some of the filthiest shit I think I've ever written. You're welcome. Also I was very quick with the proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you don't.)

💜💜💜

Everyone in the posh gated community of Forest Hills knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane.

The house was beautiful, as were all the houses in the upper-crust neighborhood- but the house wasn’t what people paid attention to.

Every housewife in the neighborhood knew that if they were lucky and timed their morning jog just right, they’d catch a glimpse of the toned, inked-up adonis who lived there while he shirtlessly mowed his lush green lawn.

You might not have done much speaking with the housewives in your parents’ neighborhood, but you knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane- you had a perfect view of its front lawn from your lounge chair by the pool in your parents’ backyard. Luckily for you, all that separated your backyard from 1405 was a short wrought iron fence and a narrow stretch of road.

You didn’t mind living with your parents during the summers you spent home from college; they gave you plenty of freedom and while they were at work during the day, you got to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool, reading a book and soaking up the sun.

As well as soaking up the view of the way that same sunlight glinted off Mr. 1405’s sweaty, ink-riddled skin.

You didn’t speak to him- what would you even say? “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, my favorite part of the day is guessing what your tattoos mean.”? Or maybe, “Hey there neighbor, mind if I count the freckles on your shoulders? It’s for science.”

Eventually, the inevitable happened- he caught you staring.

He didn’t make it awkward, though. In fact, from the way he simply smiled and waved at you, you wondered if he thought your eyes meeting him had just been a coincidence, and you hadn’t been ogling him for the past thirty minutes and some change. You’d smiled back, thankful for your huge sunglasses that hid the way your eyes had widened under his attention, and waved in return.

An even bigger surprise had been that he spoke to you this time.

“That book any good?”

His voice, heavy with labored breathing under the exhaustion from finishing up his lawn work, had caught you completely off guard. You’d laughed nervously, sticking your bookmark between the pages and pushing yourself up from your face-down position on the flattened lounge chair.

“Oh! Ah-ha, uhm, yeah!” you shifted your weight back until you were sitting on spread knees and looking up at the source of the voice. On the other side of your parents’ fence stood Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, sweaty and slightly sunburned on the tops of his shoulders. His curly brown hair had been piled into a messy knot atop his head, and you took note of the details that you hadn’t noticed from far away- a smattering of silver studs that decorated his ears, along with one on his nose. Five o’clock shadow that dusted his jawline. A more detailed view of his tattoos, some of which looked older than others but all of which looked very, very sexy on this man who had so much sex appeal already.

The crinkling of his plastic water bottle as he squeezed about half of it into his mouth filled the silence between you. After a loud gulp he piped up again.

“What’s it about?”

Your brow wrinkled confusedly before you remembered that he had just asked you about your book. “Oh!” you replied dumbly, looking down at the book as if you had completely forgotten that books even existed- looking at him had taken up your entire mental capacity, apparently. “It’s, uh, it’s a memoir! It’s this cool old lady’s life story, she does not hold back, so the narration is pretty hilarious a lot of the time.”

The inked-up Greek god smiled and nodded, eyebrows raising in interest. “That does sound good.” he mused, and his voice took on a slyer tone when he added, “What’s your definition of old, like thirty-five?” He chuckled as if he’d just told a funny joke, but your smile had all but fallen from your face.

“That’s not old,” you replied, not taking the joke, “This author was in her late seventies when she published this book, but even with that being said, this book is just told through such a youthful spirit- it’s easy to forget how old the author is when looking at her words.” You gripped the paperback a little tighter in your sweaty hands. “Plus, old people definitely don’t have the energy to mow their own lawns, and I have a feeling you’re not thirty-five.”

That seemed to catch him off-guard. A surprised laugh escaped him, exploding from his lips before they formed an intrigued grin and his arms crossed over his tattooed chest.

“Oh yeah? How old do I look, then?”

You grinned back, making a show of removing your sunglasses so that you could peer at him with greater focus. “Hmmmmmm…thirty-six?”

Another laugh, this one heartier than the last. “You flatter me, sweetheart.”

God, his voice is like brown sugar.

You tried again. “Forty, then.”

“Older.”

“No way.”

His grin became a smirk. “Are you patronizing me right now?”

You threw up a girl scout salute. “Scout’s honor, I would never.”

He chuckled. “Well, girl scout, I’ll be forty-five next month.”

“I’ll be sure to warn my parents about the rager you’ll be throwing.”

He peered up at your house behind you, like he just now noticed its- and your parents’- existence. “Nah,” he said, “No ragers for me, that ship sailed when I was your age.”

You smiled sweetly, placing your sunglasses atop your head. “At least let me bake you a cake, then, wouldn’t be neighborly to let you have a boring birthday.”

“You’d bake a cake for ‘lil old me, sweetheart?” His tattooed hand splayed over his heart, sweaty and shining in the blaring afternoon sun.

You giggled. You could get used to Mr. 1405 calling you ‘sweetheart’.

“Sure thing, just tell me what name to write in between ‘happy birthday’ and ‘forever young’.”

A flash of dazzling white teeth replied, “Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

That was when you rose a step above the housewives of Forest Hills- to them, he was still Mr. 1405, but to you? He was Eddie Munson.

You entertained yourselves with little conversations here and there whenever Eddie worked out on his lawn. You, always in a swimsuit and him, never wearing a shirt. You would ask him about his tattoos- what they symbolized, which ones he’d drawn himself before they were replicated on his flesh. He would ask you about what you were reading- it was always changing. Sometimes nonfiction, sometimes romance, fantasy, lit fic… he seemed impressed by your insatiable reading habits.

One day, however, he’d been particularly interested in a book whose cover bore a bare-chested gentleman and particularly busty woman in a corset.

“What’s today’s read, girl scout?” Eddie had greeted you with a nod toward the obviously risque reading material and a knowing smirk as he let his arms dangle over the black bars of your fence.

You looked up, glowing from the sweat that’s gathered on your dewy summer skin and smiled tightly. “Oh, just a period romance. Ball gowns, forbidden love, the scandalous touching of hands without gloves on- things like that.”

“From the looks of that cover, I don’t think their hands are the only naked body parts touching in that story.”

You laughed, glancing at the cover as Eddie waggled his eyebrows. “You’re probably right, but who knows? I’m only on the second chapter. I’ll keep you posted though.” you punctuated that last part with a wink.

“Oh please do, princess,” Eddie said with a wolfish grin. “I love a good smutty romance novel.”

You gawked. “No way you read this shit, you’re bluffing.”

Eddie raised a hand as if swearing on a bible. “Scout’s honor.” he said, mimicking your swear from the day you’d met.

You shook your head, smiling ear to ear. “You must be the first man I’ve met who openly admits to reading smut, and I respect that.”

Eddie shrugged. “Easiest way to know what women want- they’re literally writing me an instruction manual. It’d be stupid not to read them.”

You bit your bottom lip before you could stop yourself, making a mental note of that little tidbit of information. “And you enjoy them?”

“It’s porn, sweetheart,” he said, gazing at you incredulously. “Who wouldn’t enjoy it?”

“It’s porn with a plot.”

“I’m a sucker for a good plot, especially if the plot involves sucking.”

You barked out a laugh. “And one could also argue that it’s more emotional porn than physical.”

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a heart? Because I’ve got one, princess, and it bleeds, it yearns-”

Eddie pantomimed grasping at his own heart in his chest, putting on a fucking one-man show as he hung onto the fence for dear life as if his heart were truly bleeding out. You laughed- that was something that seemed to happen more when Eddie was around- you laughed more than usual, so much that you found your cheeks aching whenever he walked away.

This time, something else ached as you watched him return to his lawn. As you continued to read, you were acutely aware of the heat between your thighs, the wetness that accumulated as you pictured corseted girls and muscled viscounts making eyes at each other across a sea of dancing courtiers. You imagined yourself, cornered in a rich rose garden bathed in moonlight, struggling to stifle your moans as a man in a tailcoat left a mark on your neck. You felt his hand hiking up your layers of petticoats until it reached your thigh, the only thing separating skin from skin being the white fabric of his gloves. You pictured his eyes, brown and bottomless as he moaned at the feeling of your hands tangled and tugging on his soft brown curls-

Uh oh.

You took a deep breath, bookmarked your page, and slipped into the cold water of the pool. You sincerely hoped that Eddie hadn’t been serious about an update on the smut in your novel; you didn’t exactly want to let slip that at some point, you’d stopped picturing the viscount and started picturing him.

But would he mind? Would he be upset to know that you’d pictured his hands on you, his lips on your pulse, your fingers in his hair?

You weren’t sure he would.

In fact, you had a feeling he might actually picture you in situations that weren’t too different. After all, you weren’t blind- you’d noticed the way his eyes would flit down from your face when the two of you were talking. He didn’t seem to put much effort into hiding his once-overs, his raking gaze that seemed more than pleased by the way your swimsuits hugged your curves, pulled your cleavage together, cut higher on your hip than your shorts ever would. Whenever you pulled yourself up from lying on your stomach, you’d seen how his eyes followed your ass hungrily as it left his line of sight.

That was the moment that you realized- Eddie Munson, more than likely, wanted to fuck you.

And you definitely wanted to fuck him.

So the next time he came over to see you after mowing his lawn, you offered him a beer.

“I’m already halfway through mine,” you said, leaning back to give him a full view of the way the sweat on your breasts shone in the hot sun. “don’t make me day drink alone.”

A salacious grin curled on his plush pink lips. “I could be tempted,” Eddie peered at the cooler beside you. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”

You opened the cooler so that he could see the six pack of light lagers in shiny green bottles. Eddie wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Alright, young padawan,” he sighed, unlatching the gate to your backyard. “It’s time you learned your first lesson from Master Munson.” He didn’t enter the backyard, simply opened the gate and waited for you to join him outside your parents’ property.

You quirked an eyebrow; this was new territory. That wrought iron fence had always served as a sort of barrier between the two of you, never occupying the same space and keeping each other at arm’s length- flirty banter, but with boundaries.

Now, you smiled shrewdly as you slipped on your flip flops and crossed the threshold into Eddie’s space, following him across the narrow street to his driveway.

“Oh so I’m your student now, Master?” you quipped, launching him into a dark chuckle and a shake of his curls.

“Christ,” he cursed under his breath low enough that he probably thought you hadn’t heard- but you did. “Well, your college friends are obviously shitty teachers if your drink of choice is a basic ass bottle you can grab at the goddamn gas station.”

You scoffed, “Oh, what- are you trying to say you’re one of those pretentious beer snobs who only drinks micro-brewed IPA’s named after bad puns?”

Eddie laughed out loud, smiling ear to ear at you over his shoulder. “Oh that’s exactly what I am, princess!” The harsh sunlight finally relented as the two of you crossed into Eddie’s garage, and you followed him in a beeline to the old refrigerator in the corner opposite from his impressive-looking toolbench.

You nearly moaned with relief when the cool air from the fridge hit you as Eddie opened the door and grabbed a couple of unmarked silver cans from the middle shelf. You eyed them cautiously, which Eddie saw and snorted at when he saw your expression. “Not poisoning you, sweetheart, no need to worry.” He opened a door beside the fridge that you guessed- judging by what you could see past the doorway- led to his kitchen. “A friend of mine is a home-brewer, he gives these to me and the guys for free. Way better than any cookie-cutter shit you’ll find at a college party.” He held the door open for you, nodding his head toward the doorway. “You coming inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”

You hadn’t expected him to invite you into his home; it occurred to you suddenly that you were still only wearing your swimsuit. Smiling shyly, you stepped through the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning rolling goosebumps over your damp skin. Eddie stepped into the kitchen and immediately began opening the cans, handing one to you.

You eyed the can cautiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what I’m about to drink?’

He smiled mischievously, inclining his head toward you as he held his can aloft. “First lesson, padawan- trust your master.” He tilted the can in your direction, to which you sighed and tapped your can to his.

Your eyes widened in surprise when the cold, bubbly liquid hit your lips. It wasn’t anything like you were expecting- instead of the tepid wheaty taste that you were used to. At first the drink was tart, but after a second it faded into a fruity dryness that reminded you of white wine. Its flavor was so light that you couldn’t even tell you were drinking beer.

“This is beer?”

Eddie chuckled. “Technically it’s a sour, but yes- it’s a type of beer. Dustin said it was a champagne sour, so if you like wine then hopefully this’d be up your alley.”

You smiled as you took your second sip. “I do like wine.” you murmured, testing the flavors on your tongue. “Like this, too. Your friend ever think about selling what he brews?”

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, laughing as if the question were something funny. “Oh I have no doubt he’ll try to sell it one day, but he’s not going to even think about it until he knows he’s perfected his recipe.”

As you took another sip of the cold drink, you felt another wave of goosebumps run through you. Coincidentally, this was the moment that Eddie fell perfectly silent. You peered over your can- his eyes were fixed on your chest. You became acutely aware that the goosebumps had resulted in your nipples growing so hard, you thought if something-anything- were to accidentally brush against them, you might moan from the sensitivity.

Stifling a smirk, you shivered and hugged your upper arms. “Brrrrr it’s cold in here!” you said coyly, “I guess my body temperature got a little too used to the heat.”

Eddie’s chest heaved slightly at the way your tits bounced and squeezed together when you shivered. He cleared his throat, looking down at the beer can in his hand for a moment. “I’ve got a hot tub, you know,” He spoke up, peering at you to gauge your reaction. “Downstairs. You’re welcome to it.”

You took another sip. “Only if you join me.”

His dark eyes snapped up to yours, lips curling up at one corner. “Yes ma’am.” he said, his voice lowered an octave and a bit huskier than before. You held his eye contact, mirroring his lopsided grin with a charged, heavy-lidded gaze.

Eddie led you to a staircase down the hall and said he’d be right back with a towel for you after he changed into swim trunks.

“Aw, no speedo?” you smirked. Eddie appeared unphased. “Mental note,” he murmured to himself, “the princess is eager to see my thighs.”

You giggled, “There might be more tattoos there I haven’t seen yet,” you countered, “How am I supposed to keep figuring you out if I don’t know the meaning of each and every one?”

Eddie placed his forearm above your head on the wall, leaning into it until he was close enough for you to feel his breath on your hairline. “You know, you seem to spend a lot of time staring at my body, kid-” You bristled at his blatant omission of the nicknames you liked. “-I’m starting to feel objectified.”

You forced the smile from your face, looking up at him defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Munson,” you replied, “-and I’m not a ‘kid’.”

His position didn’t change as his eyes raked over your nearly naked body, drifting from your eyes to your lips and catching on your cleavage. “Don’t I know it, sweetheart.” he whispered, before pushing off the wall. “Hot tub’s already heated, just push off the cover and hit the green button. I’ll be down in a sec.”

And then he was walking down the hall to what you could only assume was his bedroom. For a moment, you thought about following him… but if you were honest with yourself, you were actually pretty curious about this hot tub. So down the stairs you went, carrying a silver can of sour in each hand.

Eddie’s basement was cozy, but he had utilized the space to its full potential. The majority had been filled with workout equipment to create a home gym, the walls lined with floor to ceiling mirrors that created the illusion of a larger space than it actually was. Sitting on stylish wooden slats was the hot tub, topped with a brown leather cover. To the right of the hot tub was a door with a small window that was just at your eye level. Upon closer inspection… yep, that was a sauna. Eddie had a sauna.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you made a mental note to ask Eddie what he did for a living- as far as you could tell, he was the only one who lived here. How did a single guy in his forties have so much money to burn?

Placing yours and Eddie’s drinks down on a nearby surface, you removed the cover from the hot tub and pressed the green button as Eddie had instructed, and settled into the hot, bubbling water. God, it was relaxing. Just then, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.

Eddie appeared, his hair let down from his normal messy bun so that it fell in dark chocolate curls that cascaded over his shoulders. His swim trunks, simple and black with little white skulls lining the cuffs above his knees, hugged his thighs in a way that made you salivate. Tattoos you'd become all too familiar with danced across his skin, and you suddenly felt the need to taste them.

Eddie smirked when he saw you getting an eyeful without even trying to hide it. “How’s the water?”

You hummed, relaxing further into jets against your back. “Sooooooo nice.” You sighed.

Eddie climbed into the hot tub to join you, making you squeal as he practically fell into the water, splashing you as he submerged his head just enough to wet his hair and shake it out like a golden retriever.

You giggled, doing your best to ensure that your hair wasn’t wet enough to make you look like a wet rat. “I’m starting to think you’re a teenage boy trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, tattooed arms stretching out over the edges of the tub as he relaxed into the seat across from you. “Hey now,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Careful with the term middle-aged there, kiddo.”

You matched his gaze, challenging. “Kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze was heavy, cocky as he looked down his nose at you. “Practically a baby.”

You grinned. “That one, I don’t mind.”

Eddie’s smile grew in tandem. “Oh, she likes to be ‘baby’, but not ‘kiddo’, huh?”

You leaned back into the water, looking up at the ceiling with a smug smile on your lips. “That’s right, grandpa.”

Suddenly, you felt a tug on your ankle and you were underwater. You emerged, spitting chlorine out of your mouth, struggling to force it from your nose as Eddie’s cackling rang in your ears. You gasped, sputtering in shock as you tried to catch your breath.

“You are a child!” you squealed as he tugged your ankle again- you hadn’t noticed his hold still grasping tightly- not forceful enough to bring you back under the surface but enough to remind you that he could.

“So not a grandpa, then?” Eddie teased, stroking the curve of your ankle with his thumb.

You gritted your teeth together, strategizing. “No, that would be too kind. You’ve got the maturity of a teenager. Luckily for me-”

Using Eddie’s grip on your ankle as leverage, you forcefully pulled yourself forward by your leg and launched yourself right into his lap, bending your knees so that a second later, you were straddling him.

You watched triumphantly as Eddie’s eyes widened, looking up at you with breath that hitched in his throat as you finished your sentence.

“-I know how boys like you think.”

The humor between the two of you dissipated in that instant, Eddie’s eyes blown wide and dark as he watched the way the water in your hair dripped down your neck and between your breasts, which were now inches from his face. If he leaned forward, he could catch that bead of water with his tongue. If he reached up, he could hold your tits in his hands, test their weight. Press them up, squish them together, squeeze…

You felt him growing hard beneath you, and smirked triumphantly. “See?” You said smugly, grinding against him teasingly. “Right on schedule.”

Eddie chuckled, his breathing strained as he shook his head exasperatedly. “Got me all figured out, do you princess?”

You nodded, finding your rhythm as you continued to grind against his hardening cock through his swim trunks. “I think I’m starting to.”

You shivered despite the warmth as Eddie trailed his hand from your ankle up your leg, your hip, your waist…finally resting at the apex of your sternum to splay across your neck. You hadn’t been expecting that- you faltered, breath hitching as he tested out a gentle squeeze and hummed to himself.

“Mmmmm…” He looked you over with passive attention, taking account of the way your eyes widened and your pulse quickened under his thumb. “...you know, I’m starting to figure you out too.” His other hand cupped your hip, pulling you to sit directly on his erection and holding you in place so you couldn’t grind. “You’re used to getting away with shit you know you shouldn’t do, isn’t that right, baby?” You sighed softly in response, pinned into place by his lust-blown eyes. You balanced on a precipice- on one side, obedience, which you knew would satisfy him. On the other, eventual obedience with a little bit more fight; more of a gamble, but you were willing to bet that he would enjoy that best.

“You really thought you could eye-fuck me every damn afternoon,” Eddie said, his hand on your neck moving lower to fondle one of your breasts over your swimsuit. “-and there wouldn’t be consequences?”

You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under his hand. “I mean…” you drawled, still smiling smugly despite his authoritative tone of voice. “...I was kinda hoping for consequences.” you brought both hands out of the water, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

A second passed before Eddie’s hands suddenly grabbed both of your wrists, forcing them behind your back. You gasped, cheeks hot from the water and the position you were in, straddling his lap with both shoulders shoved back to force your breasts front and center. He saw the look in your eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I can get rough sometimes, baby.” he said, voice low and husky. “Tell me it’s too much at any point and I’ll stop, okay?” You nodded, a shy little mm-hm escaping your bitten lips. Eddie crossed your wrists over each other, holding them behind your back with one hand as his newly free one reached up to caress your cheek.

“Fucking Christ, you’re cute.” he mumbled. “Cute little baby, all alone in her parents’ big house all day, so bored she had to go and be a slut for the neighbor. That right, baby?”

Your eyes were wide and wet, mouth opened in a slight pout as you ground your freed hips on his hard cock once again, whimpering needily. You nodded your head up and down, eager to hear more filthy words tumble from his lips.

Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that. A hand came up to grasp your hair at the base of your neck, tugging on it firmly but not painfully to force your head to nod up and down emphatically. “Use your words, baby, say ‘yes, daddy, I was a slut.’”

You gasped, surprised. You’d never called anyone daddy besides your actual father, and you’d certainly never called anyone that in the bedroom- or a hot tub, for that matter. However, his brazen demand that you call him that while you straddled him like this sent rolling waves of pleasure straight to the apex of your thighs.

“Y-yes… daddy…” You struggled against your instinct to be embarrassed, arching your back against your restrained hands and looking down shyly at your cleavage. “...I was a slut.”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and obedient. He was smiling at you, beaming with pride and adoration. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling your face to his. “Good girl, baby.” he praised, “I’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

That earned you a chuckle. “So polite, baby girl, good job.”

Eddie’s lips felt like the most comforting thing that a person could feel on their skin. His kiss felt like fresh sheets still warm from the dryer. His tongue was like a strawberry that was perfectly ripe, sweet and wet and a rush of relief. He explored you, he learned you, his lips devoured all they could reach and whenever they couldn’t reach, his tongue took over to fill in the blanks.

As you whimpered and squirmed in his lap, Eddie cooed, “What’s the matter, baby, something wrong with your legs?”

You shook your head, moaning into his mouth. “I need something on my clit, Eddie.”

“Something? You’ll just take anything on that clit baby? Is that what you're saying?”

You panted, straining against his rock hard dick for some kind of friction. He was right, you would take anything. “Yes, please touch me, Eddie.”

He made no move to do so, only looking at you pointedly with his eyebrows raised. When you realized your mistake, you corrected, “Please touch me, daddy.”

He smiled smugly, a cat watching a mouse. “Good girl,” he praised, “but I’m not sure you’ve earned that.”

Your face fell, eyes going wide as your lips formed a full-on pout. “But-” you began to stutter, but Eddie wasn’t finished.

He let go of you, pushing you gently off you and guiding you under the water to one of the seats in the corner of the tub. The jets coming off it were strong, nearly too much on your back as you turned to sit, but Eddie stopped you before you could settle into the seat.

“Princess, I want you to keep your knees open and ride your pussy on that jet stream until you cum.”

Your jaw dropped open. Whipping your chin over your shoulder to look at him in his seat opposite you, you stared and waited for him to specify or maybe apologize for misspeaking- there’s no way you heard him right. But then he repeated himself, and you realized that yes, you had.

“Press your pussy up against that jet stream under the water, and make yourself cum. Don’t use your hands. Don’t rush. I want you to fall apart in my hot tub, and I’m going to stroke my dick while I watch you do it. That okay, sweetheart?”

You were learning a lot of new information about your neighbor today.

You smiled devilishly over your shoulder at him, taking in the sight of him lounging in the opposite corner of the tub as he took in the sight of you. “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?”

Eddie reached across the tub and wound an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Yeah, I am.” he murmured into your lips before pushing you back toward the jets. “Now make yourself cum, I want you tight.”

He laughed at the pathetic little whimper that you let slip involuntarily as you situated yourself against the jet stream. You balanced your weight on your knees, spreading your legs enough to open your pussy further inside your swimsuit. Once the pulsing stream of water made contact with your clit, your automatic impulse was to flinch away; the stream was strong, almost too strong. However, with a little shifting and repositioning, you eventually found an angle that pulled a moan from your mouth that sounded almost pornographic.

“That’s it, baby girl,” you heard Eddie’s rough voice behind you, and you couldn’t help but sneak a peak over your shoulder at him. Eddie sat with legs spread open and one arm slung over the lip of the tub, his other hand palming the erection you knew was only growing harder over his swim trunks. This told you he was a patient man, a man who liked to be teased a little before taking what he wanted. A man who liked to play with his food before he ate it.

You could play, too.

You pulled your eyebrows together, pouting your lips the way you’d seen him react to earlier. “Am I doing it right for you, daddy?” You moved your hips up and down against the jet, putting on a little show for him.

Eddie raised a brow, amused. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you, sweetheart.” he said, sighing heavily with pleasure as he tilted his head this way and that to take you in from every angle. “Don’t worry about me, baby, just make yourself feel good.”

You smiled shyly, nodding in response and turning your attention back to the jets. You maneuvered your hips against them, grinding on the strong jetstream as it hit your clit at angles that you didn’t even know existed. You lost yourself in the sensation, letting your eyes fall closed and humming little sounds to yourself as your heart rate picked up, that familiar pleasure bubbling up in your lower belly as your movements grew faster and more desperate.

Eager to see if Eddie was enjoying himself as much as you were, you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. What you saw was breathtaking- Eddie, his wet curls clinging to his dewy skin, muscles flexing under his tattoos as he fisted his cock underwater. You couldn’t see it clearly due to the raging bubbles, but the flesh-colored underwater blur was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. You had known he would jack off to you- he’d outright told you he planned to- but seeing it was enough to turn you on so much that it became the thing that pushed you over the edge.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!”

You moaned, mouth hanging open as you rode out your orgasm against the harsh stream of the jets, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the physical feeling and the intense eye contact that you held with Eddie the entire time as your body gyrated and spasmed. He watched you with hungry eyes, lapping up the scene in its entirety and committing every second to memory.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, keep fucking that jet, baby.”

You whimpered, hips jerking away from the stream as it hit your clit at an angle that was a little too intense, and your limp, still-needy body floated over to Eddie. He chuckled, still stroking his cock lightly in the warm water. “Aw, I’m sorry baby, was that too much?”

You shook your head, still eager for him- he’d barely even touched you, and yet you were so desperate for this man. “No, I can take more.”

His eyes had a darkness to them that made your breath hitch. “How much can you take, sweetheart?”

You moved to straddle your knees on either side of one of his thighs, not close enough to grind against his cock, but certainly in a perfect position to rub your pussy along his leg, teasing him. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, daddy.”

A low groan sounded from deep in Eddie’s chest. “You might regret saying that one, babe.”

You couldn’t resist matching his warning with a challenge. “Bring it on.” you said sweetly, and it incited a little chuckle in him. He reached back and pressed a button on the hot tub, causing all of the bubbles to stop.

“Get out, dry off.” he said, nodding to the neatly folded towels he’d placed beside the hot tub. “You look like you could use a shower.”

You stayed put, confused. “You… but…”

He cut you off, cupping his wet hands against your face. You could feel the pads of his fingers on your cheeks, wrinkled from prolonged time under the water’s surface. “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you don’t like following instructions unless you know you’re getting something out of it.” You scoffed at his condescending tone, but all he did was smile. “What I meant to say was- get out. Dry off. I’m going to fuck you in my shower. Mmkay?”

Your eyes widened, excited by his words and elated by a strange submissive, post-orgasmic euphoria. “Okay.” you replied, but when you saw his testy look in response you quickly amended, “Okay daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The two of you dried off before heading back upstairs. Eddie let you down the hall to his bedroom, which you were sure was filled with so many interesting mementos on the walls that you were sure it would take you hours to study all of it. The first thing to catch your eye was the golden record, framed and mounted beside his dresser. When Eddie saw you looking at it, he supplied an answer without waiting for you to ask.

“Ever heard of a band called Corroded Coffin?”

You searched your brain but came up empty. “No, I don’t think I have.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, like you’d just participated in a joke you weren’t in on. “Most people haven’t. But I bet you’ve heard the song Upside Down on the radio, yeah?” He hummed a couple bars of the chorus, which you recognized instantly.

“Oh yeah! I love that song!”

Eddie grinned. “‘Preciate it, babe.”

Shocked, you glanced up at the record and back to him. “Wait, you wrote that song?”

He shrugged as if to brush it off, but you could tell he was proud. “It was a group effort, my band and I wrote and recorded it together. After that, though, when the offers for record deals and tours and shit started pouring in, it became clear to most of the band members that this wasn’t what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives- band broke up on good terms, we just had some differences when it came to future plans.” He reached up and stroked the frame affectionately with his thumb. “But one-hit-wonder money was still enough to get my name out there, make some smart investments. I’m a music producer now.”

So that’s how he made all this money. The big empty house made sense now. “That’s pretty cool, actually.” you said, smiling at Eddie. You relished the sensation of his hands as they slid around your waist.

“You wanna see something even cooler?”

Before you could answer, Eddie was scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed, laughing as his palm hit your ass cheek with a loud smack! He carried you into his bathroom, placing you on his vanity counter before kissing the laughing smile right off your face. You felt his hands as they worked your bathing suit off you, freeing your breasts from the confines of the damp fabric. Eddie wasted no time, pulling one of your tits into his hand and encircling your nipple with his mouth, sucking sensually. You moaned, hands fisting into his hair. He only left your skin to turn around and turn on the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up.

Once the bathroom had sufficiently filled with steam, Eddie picked you up from the counter, pulling your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You kissed him greedily, wetly, and hungrily as he walked the two of you into his spacious tiled shower, which was larger than your dorm room closet back at school.

You relaxed your legs around him in a silent ask for Eddie to put you down, which he obliged. The moment your feet hit the wet tiled floor, you began to sink to your knees until…

You snorted.

“Why do you still have your swim trunks on?”

Eddie had taken the time to take off your bathing suit, but you hadn’t even realized that even after carrying you into the shower, he hadn’t even taken a second to undress himself.

He looked down, noticing this for the first time, same as you. “I, uh… I don’t know. I was-” he flashed you a smirk that was equal parts embarrassed and sexy. “-preoccupied, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt before him, now eye-level with the drawstring of his swim trunks. “Well let me fix that, then.” you said softly, working your delicate fingers into the waistband and pulling his trunks down until they hit the floor.

God. He was a sight to behold. And you were right, he did have thigh tattoos. They were large, twisting images of hellish creatures, undoubtedly older but still in good shape since- judging by the paleness of the skin they decorated- they probably never saw the light of day.

You reached up, lightly tracing them as you turned your gaze to his cock. It was at full mast, eager and waiting for your mouth to encircle it and, hopefully, make Eddie moan your name.

Which he did.

The way your lips covered the head of his cock, the way your tongue generously licked the shaft under, over, around, the way your hands were warm and welcoming as they lightly played with his balls- all of it made him moan, gasp, groan your name. He called you baby, called you princess, moaned and pulled your hair as he fucked your mouth, and you just about burst into flames when he shoved his cock so far down your throat that you swallowed on it accidentally, pulling a growled “Goddamnit, sweetheart, fuck-” from his lips.

When he pulled you off his dick by your hair, his eyes were humorless and hungry. He crouched down, leveling your eyes under the hot water from the showerhead.

“Are you on birth control, sweet girl?” he asked.

You nodded, “I have an IUD.”

He kissed your forehead firmly, one hand still fisted in your hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now I can grab a condom, they’re right over there in the cabinet under my sink.” he continued, nodding vaguely in the sink’s direction. “But baby, I have been fantasizing about the way your pussy’s gonna feel for a long ass time and I hate to ask you this, and you’re allowed to say no, but-”

“Fuck me raw Eddie.” You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. “I fantasize about it too. I think about it every day, I touch myself to you before going to sleep and wake up wishing your cock was the thing waking me up. When I’m lying by the pool reading those stupid smutty novels and some lord is fucking a lady in waiting up against a wall, I can’t focus on it! I can’t because I want it to be you and I want to feel your cock inside me, and I want it to be your cum that drips down my thighs and your lips on my-”

He cut you off there, splaying his free hand on your neck and kissing you until you were laid horizontally on the hot, wet floor. He climbed on top of you, and in a moment your mouth fell open at the sensation of his hard cock splitting you open from the inside. He didn’t spend a moment waiting for you to adjust to his size or murmuring praises into your ear- he knew you wanted all of him, and you knew he wanted all of you, and that was all you needed. You moaned, you practically screamed, and above all you clutched him for dear life.

“Dirty girl,” Eddie growled into your ear, thrusting into you deep and hard. “Dirty books, dirty mind-”

He leaned back so that his face was directly above yours and grabbed your cheeks, squeezing to force your mouth open. Your lips parted, and Eddie spat harshly into your mouth before shoving your mouth closed around it. His eyes were feral, wild with lust and dominance. “Swallow.” he commanded, you obeyed in an instant. He felt your throat moving against his hand and smiled deviously. “Dirty mouth, too.”

He picked up his pace, spearing into you at a pace so relentless that you couldn’t even keep track of the noises coming out of your mouth- an incoherent stream of sounds and swear that would have made a sailor blush. He matched your dirty noises with his own, all the while dicking you down into his shower floor as your brain went haywire at the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the bathroom.

“God, this pussy is so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned, “good girl, cumming so hard for daddy back there. You gonna cum on my cock this time?”

You moaned, “Need something on my clit, daddy.”

Eddie pecked your lips with his own, and the way it made your heart skip a beat was like a reward. “Good girl, always tell me what you need, okay?”

You nodded, smiling giddily from the sudden subby euphoria. “Okay, daddy.” You made a mental note that kissing Eddie Munson while his cock was inside you gave you your new favorite kind of high.

Eddie reached down and began drawing small, soft circles with his fingertip on your clit. The richly gentle sensation was decadent, pulling deeper, louder moans from you as Eddie continued to fuck you. “Oh I feel you getting tighter, baby girl, that feel good?”

“Yes!” you practically yelled it.

“Yes what?” He taunted.

“Yes daddy!” you cried, arching your back against the tile. He was fucking you ruthlessly, ravaging you mentally, and the way his dirty words melted into you made your brain go so hazy that you weren’t sure if your vision was clouding or if it was just the steam in the air.

Your release was growing closer, that heat in your core coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst with pleasure. “I’m gonna cum soon, daddy.” you whined.

Eddie’s dick hit you in that perfect spot inside over and over, and you leaned your face against his hand as he cupped your cheek affectionately. “Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over daddy’s dick?” You pouted, nodding ‘yes’ in response. Eddie smiled at the way you could be so cute and so filthy at the same time- he fucking loved it. “That’s probably gonna make me cum, sweetheart, you want that? That pussy’s gonna grip my cock so tight that it fills you with cum, huh?”

You were whimpering and pouting and letting the sluttiest little sobs fall from you now. “Yes, daddy, fill me with cum, please!”

“You want me to fill you with cum? Fuck all that cum inside you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what, sweetheart, gotta tell me whose dick you’re cumming on-”

“Daddy!” you cried, “Daddy’s dick, I’m cumming on daddy’s dick!”

“Fuuuck, yes, cum on daddy’s dick you little slut-”

Eddie’s filthy words tumbled from his lips as your pussy pulsed around him, fluttering walls squeezing him tight from the aching pleasure that shot through you. His cum filled you, and the size of his load reflected just how long it had been since he’d cum into anything that wasn’t his own hand. When he finally pulled out, a stream of both your releases oozed out of your hole and onto the floor. Eddie stared at it, fascinated, and he silently used his finger to catch the milky liquid and push it back into your hole. You whimpered, overly sensitive and puffy, your pussy lips inflamed and screaming, but Eddie was gentle as he sheathed his finger completely inside you, ensuring that his seed stayed exactly where he’d put it in the first place.

He pulled you up to a sitting position, smiling gently. “Hi.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your temple.

“Hi.” you giggled, a giant smile stretching out across your face, blissed-out and more than satisfied.

Eddie stroked your wet hair out of your face, gazing down at you adoringly. “I’m sorry if that was a little… much,” he winced. “I may have gotten carried away, usually I would talk to you to see if that kind of stuff would be okay, but I was just so fired up-”

“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. “I loved it.”

He grinned, grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie pulled you against him, your body fitting itself nicely against his naked chest as water poured over the two of you from above while you sat holding each other on the floor of his shower. He sighed, completely and utterly content. “Yeah.”

***

The rest of the summer days in your parents’ neighborhood went like this:

Wake up imagining what you and Eddie would do today. Touch yourself when necessary.

Do whatever chores needed doing around the house, sometimes making batches of lemonade for Eddie when you knew he would be working on his lawn that day.

Lounge by your pool and read a book- this part hadn’t changed.

Spend the rest of the afternoon at Eddie’s. These afternoons usually consisted of activities like discussing the whatever book you were reading, drinking whatever strange new beer Dustin had come up with, and fucking each other’s brains out.

The next month, Eddie celebrated his birthday. He didn’t throw a rager (true to his word) but he did have a little get-together. To your surprise, he invited you.

You got to meet his friends, their kids, their dogs- and see the way Eddie smiled for hours without reprieve when they were around. This whole summer, you’d been figuring this man out bit by bit, but it wasn’t until that night that you truly felt like you knew him.

You baked him a cake, as promised. Three layers of funfetti sponge, vanilla frosting and decorated with oreo crumbs and rainbow letters that spelled out “Happy birthday, Eddie, forever young”.

He wasn’t this way with the rest of the neighbors. To them, he would always be Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, but with these people? With his friends? He was Eddie Munson. Now, you were included in that group of people who were allowed to know him, and how wonderful he really was.

You felt so incredibly lucky that you were a part of that.

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