#eddie munson survives
Text
tell me we'll never get used to it
Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader; Eddie Munson/You
Summary: Sequel to "i can't carry it for you, but i can carry you," but this one can technically be read as a standalone.
Set a few weeks after the finale, you and Eddie are finally healed enough from your ordeals to have sex. You both get a little stoned on California weed, and then Eddie confesses to you that not only is he a virgin, he's also self-conscious of the scars the demo-bats gave him. So you seek to reassure him, remind him how much you love him, with both your words and your body.
Rating: E(xplicit). Minors DNI
Warnings: smoking/shotgunning weed, smut, virgin!eddie munson, loss of virginity, oral sex (f/m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, riding, scars, self-confidence issues
A/N: I started this fic with the intention of making something quick and smutty, and then it turned into... this. And this fic stems from my deep seated belief that Eddie Munson deserves to get really high and have really tender loving sex, and since the Duffers are cowards, I did it myself. Also, as much as I love bad boy, sex-god Eddie, I just head cannon Eddie Munson as a virgin because come on, lol, he's a DnD nerd who plays in a "weird" band, sells drugs, and failed senior year twice. I love him with all my heart, but the boy has never gotten his dick wet lmao
(And, yes, I took the title from a Richard Siken poem, sue me)
Ao3 Link: Here
“‘Kay, kids, I think it’s time to pack it in,” Steve said as he stood up and clapped his hands.
“What?!” Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Will protested in unison, snapping their heads up from where they were crowded around your long coffee table.
“We’ve barely even started,” Mike argued as his eyebrows furrowed sharply.
“Yeah, the sun hasn’t even set yet,” Dustin added, stabbing an accusatory finger at where the fading orange sunlight was filtering in through the living room window. “We’ve got like, at least thirty, thirty-five minutes before we need to leave.”
“But we’ve been playing for hours,” Robin groaned as she flopped over on the couch, into the space Steve had just vacated. “I’m bored.”
“You’re only bored because you died,” Dustin shot back. “By tripping off a cliff, I might add, which I’m still not sure how you did that…”
“And this is nothing,” Nancy scoffed from beside Robin. “Mike once ran a marathon forty-eight hour session in our basement, starting Friday and going all through the weekend. That room smelled disgusting by Sunday night.”
“Shut. Up. Nancy!” Mike was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and he turned and scowled at his sister over his shoulder. He was blushing, and when El giggled from where she was leaning against Mike’s opposite shoulder, he only blushed harder.
“Only telling the truth,” Nancy said as she raised her hands.
“I believe you,” Steve muttered and then ducked when Dustin threw a six-sided die at him. “Hey! That’s it! Party’s over. It’s past your bedtimes, so pack up all your little toys and dolls.”
“Hey, no need to disrespect the game, Harrington,” Eddie said from behind you.
He was sitting in the recliner your mom’s boyfriend bought only a few months ago, and he looked every inch like a king on his throne when you glanced up at him from where you were sitting— also cross-legged —between his feet. Since he’d been discharged from the hospital, he hadn’t let you leave his side, and he always had to be touching you, not that you were complaining. Right now, both of his legs were pressed against the outside of your arms, and one of his hands was idly playing with your hair.
“I have respect for the game,” Steve huffed with his hands on his hips, like a disgruntled mother. “But like Robin said, it’s been hours, and you know Agent Mustache gets pissed when we’re not back in our homes by sunset.”
All at once, the teasing atmosphere in your living room evaporated, and you watched as everyone’s smiles slowly faded.
It had been three weeks since everything went to shit. Three weeks since Hawkins was split in half by the Upside Down’s gates. In those three weeks, a lot had changed. For one, Hawkins felt like a ghost town now. Most people had either fled or been evacuated. But there were still a few hold outs: a couple of simply stubborn people who didn’t like being told what to do, a handful of others who just had nowhere else to go, and some old men and women who’d been born in Hawkins and planned to die there, too.
And, of course, the families of the kids in this room. El had needed to stay to deal with the gates, and Mike of course wasn’t leaving her, which meant neither were Dustin, Lucas, and Will. Steve, Nancy, and Robin felt like they needed to protect the kids, and you and Eddie had already given a pound of flesh to the cause, so what was a little more?
The government hadn’t been too happy with the number of liabilities left on their hands, but Mike pointed out that he and his friends had already broken into a secret lab and a Russian spy operation, so slipping back into Hawkins would have been child’s play. The government just gave up trying to make them leave after that.
Instead, they’d instated a curfew. A heavily enforced curfew. Soldiers armed with flamethrowers roamed the barren and broken streets of Hawkins at all times, but at night the patrols doubled, bright headlights sweeping the darkness for anything that moved.
Surprisingly, nothing had happened yet. In fact, it had been relatively quiet. The gates were still a ghostly specter that haunted the town, spewing forth ash and killing all plant life within a certain radius. But nothing else had come through the portals. No demo-dogs, or bats, no Demogorgons, nothing. El and Will said it felt like Vecna was biding his time, licking his wounds, preparing for his next big move, so everyone was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But there were only so many strategy meetings a group of teens could sit through, only so much prep and training they could do. Sometimes, everyone just needed a break, a few hours to not think about monsters, or the world ending, or the fact that Max still hadn’t woken up, no matter how hard El tried to reach her.
And that’s where Eddie Munson came in. Eddie, with his infectious smile and enthusiasm, his elaborate storytelling skills that ensnared his audience and made the real world just fall away. Everyone had become an honorary member of the Hellfire Club, even Steve “the Hair” Harrington. Not everyone was particularly good, but it was a fun way to pass the time, a nice reprieve from all the life-and-death situations this group somehow always found themselves in.
But now, reality had come calling once again.
“Ugh, way to kill the mood, Steve,” Dustin sighed, breaking the morose silence as he flopped back onto the carpeted floor.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m the bad guy.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Blame me all you want, but we still gotta get going.”
The kids all grumbled as they started packing up, and as if on cue, Jonathan suddenly came stumbling in through the back door off the kitchen, coughing and watery-eyed. He’d excused himself about half an hour ago, and it wasn’t hard to tell what he’d been doing on your back porch.
“Hey, guys are we, uh, heading out soon?” he drawled. “Sun’s setting.”
He blinked slowly at everyone, and you saw Will roll his eyes, which made Mike, Lucas, and Dustin stifle snorts. Then Dustin got this mischievous look you knew too well, and he turned to Jonathan with a startled expression.
“What are you talking about, dude?” the kid asked. “We’ve been here all night, that’s the sunrise.”
Jonathan balked and snapped his head toward the window, which caused the whole room to break out in laughter. Blushing, the older Byers rubbed the back of his head, and Nancy smiled as she walked over, placed her hand on his arm, and murmured something to him in a reassuring cadence.
You didn’t know what was going on with Nancy and her so-called boyfriend, especially with the way Steve was staring at the pair of them, but you were a professional at minding your own damn business, so you turned away from them, craned your neck back, and looked up at Eddie behind you.
“That was a good session, Munson,” you said, smiling up at him as you leaned your temple against his knee.
“I know.” He smirked, but then he narrowed his eyes at you. “Wait, why do you sound surprised? All of my sessions are good sessions, Obi. You might be a Jedi Master, but I am the Dungeon Master.”
Even after all this time, that stupid nickname he gave you made butterflies erupt in your belly.
“Of course.” You nodded, making sure you face was very serious. “You are the Dungeon Master to end all Dungeon Masters. No one can hold a candle to your genius.”
“That’s more like it,” Eddie said with a pleased expression, and he wrapped a lock of your hair around his finger. His eyes were dark and deep as he stared down at you, but his touch was soft when his thumb brushed the side of your face.
You leaned into his hand with a sigh, but the moment was abruptly broken by Dustin making a gagging noise.
“Ugh, get a room you two,” he groaned.
You whipped your head around and raised an eyebrow at him.
“Um, this is my house, Henderson,” you reminded him. “And didn’t your babysitter say it was time to go, anyway?”
Dustin made an affronted noise, and you laughed as you stood up and stretched your back. But before you could move to help pick up some of the various snack bowls scattered around the living room floor, two hands suddenly snaked around your waist, tugging you backward.
“Munson!” you gasped as you fell into his lap, the chair rocking back from your added weight. You turned your head to chide him, but then Eddie seized your lips, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head.
Instantly, the living room, your friends, and the rest of the world faded around you. Eddie had this… magnetism about him or something. Every time he looked at you, touched you, especially kissed you, it was like nothing else existed except the two of you. Now wasn’t any different, and you sighed as you opened your mouth to his probing tongue.
But all too soon, he pulled away, and when your eyes fluttered open, he was smirking.
“Okay, yup, time to go,” you distantly heard Steve mutter, followed by a chorus of agreements.
“Heh, worked like a charm,” Eddie whispered in your ear, and you knew he was just joking around, but his warm breath brushing your skin made you shiver.
You didn’t want to completely embarrass yourself in front of your friends, though, so you shook your head to clear it, pushed yourself off Eddie’s lap, and walked everyone to the door. The sun was just starting to dip below the tree line, and you could see a government Jeep roll by the end of the street, but everyone lived pretty close, so they should able to beat curfew.
Nancy and Mike climbed into Nancy’s car to head back to the Wheelers’, and Steve was practically the designated carpool, so he was dropping off Robin, Lucas, and Dustin. Jonathan was taking Will and El back to the combined Hopper-Byers residence, and even though his eyes were still bloodshot, you knew Jonathan was a cautious driver and would get them all home.
Maybe just a little bit slower than everyone else.
You stood on your front porch and waved goodbye until the last car slipped out of sight, and you fought back a yawn as you dropped your arm. Then your eyes trailed to the reddish sky, searching the streaks of black clouds that perpetually hovered over the gates.
It felt so strange to be living a somewhat normal life with the apocalypse hanging over everyone’s neck, but what else were you supposed to do?
“Obiii-wannn.” Eddie’s singsongy voice pulled you from your thoughts, and his arms wrapped around your waist as he tugged you back against his chest. Then he pressed a kiss to your hair and rested his chin on the top of your head. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“All the shit rolling around up here would definitely cost more than a penny,” you snorted and leaned back into him.
“Ah, well, never mind then, cuz I’m broke.”
You laughed as you turned in the circle of his arms, and the lopsided grin you loved so much was beaming down at you. You rose up on your tiptoes to kiss him, but before your lips could meet, the sharp honk of a car horn blared behind you, making you jump.
Glancing over your shoulder, you saw one of the government Jeeps stopped in the middle of the street in front of your house, and the soldier in the passenger seat gave you a pointed look through the open window.
You blushed as you fell back on your heels, but Eddie just wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against his side.
“Evenin’, gentlemen,” he called out as he put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “We were just heading inside. Keep up the good work!”
The soldiers seemed unimpressed with him, but Eddie just snickered as he turned and steered you back into the house.
“Tough crowd,” he said as you shut and locked the door behind you.
Since the town still needed power, and since he was used to the hours, Wayne had continued to work nightshifts— with ample guards, of course— so he wouldn’t be home until after dawn, and he had a copy of the key to let himself in.
“I don’t know why you have to antagonize them,” you sighed, referring to the soldiers, as you turned to your boyfriend.
“Because it’s funnnn.” Eddie grinned, and he reached out to pull you against him again. “And I’ll take all the fun I can get these days.”
You didn’t blame him for that.
Still, you playfully rolled your eyes as you pulled away. Eddie made a whining noise in the back of his throat and grabbed after you, but you batted his hands back.
“Help me pick up first,” you chuckled. “Then you can Velcro yourself to me while I warm up dinner.”
“Nooo, let’s just pick up everything later,” Eddie said with a cajoling grin.
“And let Wayne trip over all this shit in the morning when we inevitably forget and fall asleep?” You raised an eyebrow and gestured to the living room floor, which was still strewn with snacks and the various odds and ends that came with every DnD session.
“Fine,” Eddie pouted, but then he got a mischievous glint in his brown gaze. “That just means you’ll have to wait longer for my surprise.”
You couldn’t help it. Your curiosity was piqued.
“What surprise?” you asked as you narrowed your eyes at him.
“That’s not how surprises work, Obi.” He smirked and wagged a finger at you, spinning on heel. “You’ll just have to wait and see now. Cleaning up comes first after all. It’s so very important.”
You knew that when Eddie got like this, he would tease you to the point of torture. He would pick up one paper, one stray chip at a time just to drag it out until you eventually broke and gave in to his demands.
“I am a hostage living in my own home,” you muttered, bending down to pick up an empty bowl covered in Dorito-dust fingerprints.
“How’s that Stockholm Syndrome treating you, baby?” Eddie asked with a wink, and you turned away from him so he couldn’t see your stupid, dopey smile.
God, you loved him. Even when he was being annoying.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem in the mood to torture you too much tonight, because he helped you pick up relatively quickly. He did distract you several times by brushing up against you on his way to the kitchen, and then twice just to full on kiss you, but eventually the living room floor was no longer a death trap. You’d mostly just stacked the mess in different places— empty bowls on the kitchen counter, and DnD supplies on a living room end table— but at least it wasn’t underfoot anymore.
And it wasn’t like your mom or her boyfriend were here to bitch at you, anyway.
“Alright, Munson,” you said, and you turned to him and placed your hands on your hips. “What’s this surprise?”
“Aw, I think you can ask a little nicer than that, sweetheart,” Eddie teased as he faced you in the middle of your living room. His dark-brown eyes were dancing with a playful delight, and he tapped the fingers of his right hand against his lips, like he was trying to hide his shit-eating grin.
He wasn’t successful.
But two could play this game.
You dropped your arms from your hips and slowly sauntered up to him, closing the distance in three strides. Some of the cockiness went out of his gaze the closer you got, and once you came to a stop in front of him, you slowly wound your arms around his neck, pressing your chest into his. Then you rose up on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against the shell of his ear.
“Pretty please?” you breathed, punctuating the question with a flick of your tongue against his earlobe.
Eddie groaned deep in his chest, and you knew you’d won.
Smirking, you dropped back onto your heels, but Eddie latched his hands onto your hips to keep you from pulling away. When he looked down at you, his eyes were narrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.
“You are evil,” he deadpanned. “Evil Obi. You might have all the others fooled, but I can see the horns holding up your halo.”
You grinned, stuck your tongue out, and lifted your hands up to your head in the symbol for horns, copying a face Eddie had made many times.
It worked like a charm, because the fake-hardness to his expression melted, and he bent down to slant his mouth over yours.
“Is this my surprise?” you giggled against his lips. “Not that I’m complaining, but it isn’t exactly a surprise when you kiss me every five minutes.”
“Five minutes?” Eddie gasped, pulling away from you with wide eyes. “Shit, I’m way off schedule. No way am I gonna make my daily quota now.”
You giggled again and playfully shoved his shoulder. “I’m serious. You have me dying with curiosity now. What’s the surprise?”
“Well, we definitely can’t have you dying,” Eddie said with a smirk, and one of his hands left your hip to dig around the back pocket of his jeans. After a moment of rummaging, he withdrew his hand with a flourish and dangled something in between your faces. “Ta-da!”
You blinked and leaned back a little to bring the object into focus, but the smell hit you before your brain processed what was in the small plastic baggie.
“No way,” you murmured, reaching up for the bag of weed. “Where the hell did you get this?”
The two of you hadn’t smoked anything besides cigarettes in weeks. Eddie had suggested maybe going back out to Rick’s to see if the drug dealer had anything stashed since Rick himself was still in jail, but Lover’s Lake was a hot zone with Watergate being in the center of it, so neither you nor Eddie wanted to take the risk for a little grass.
“I have my ways,” Eddie said as he tugged the bag out of your reach. “A good man never reveals his sources, like a magician never reveals his tricks.”
You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms over your chest, and he caved in less than thirty seconds.
“Alright, twist my arm, damn,” he grumbled. “IIIII might have told Byers— the older one— that my pain levels have been… higher than they actually are, and he was a good enough friend to give me some primo pain management all the way from California.”
“Munson!” you gasped, your tone half scandalized, half amused. “You conned Jonathan out of what is probably the last of his Cali stash?”
“It was for a good cause!”
“And what cause is that?” you asked as you tried to keep from laughing, but it was hard when Eddie was standing there pouting like an innocent puppy while holding a bag of illicit substances.
“Becauseeeee… I wanted to get high with you?” Eddie replied with a sheepish smile. “And I think I deserve it after being such a brave hero, don’t you?”
“You’re really going to milk that forever, aren’t you?” you deadpanned, but secretly you were happy that he saw himself as you did, even if just a little, even if he tried to make it a joke.
“Forever and ever, baby.” He grinned before shaking the bag at you. “So, what do you say, Obi? Do you want to enjoy your surprise, or do you want to be a goody two shoes and give Byers back his weed?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look conflicted, but really, there was no question.
“Fine.” You snatched the bag out of his hand while his grin widened. “But I’m rolling. You always make them too fat.”
“No such thing,” Eddie snickered, but he dutifully followed you back to your bedroom.
You went over to your desk while Eddie sauntered over to the bed. Before your mother left, you always kept your papers and lighters hidden deep in a junk drawer, or even in the floorboards after David moved in and started giving you shit when you came home from Eddie’s smelling particularly skunky. But now she and David were gone, and Wayne honestly didn’t give a shit. He even sometimes smoked a bit himself to deal with the pain that came from working in a powerplant for thirty odd years. So, your tray was just sitting in the corner of your desk, and you pulled it towards you as you flicked on the lamp in the opposite corner.
Behind you, Eddie had grabbed his guitar from the side of the bed and was idly strumming out the riff of a Motorhead song. Gareth had given him a small amp after the Munson trailer was destroyed, but Eddie was always respectful and kept the volume at a tolerable level, unless you asked him to crank it up. It might be strange to some, but you found the heavy rock chords soothing, and you hummed along absently as you picked up your grinder.
“Obiiiii,” Eddie sing-songed from the bed behind you, and he suddenly paused his strumming.
“I haven’t even started yet, Munson,” you said without looking back at him. “Patience.”
“But why are you allllll the way over there?” he asked, and you could just imagine the pout on his face. “Just come roll it on the bed.”
“You know that never ends well,” you snorted, shooting a look at him over your shoulder. And yup, he was pouting. “We always end up spilling it, and I am not picking crumbs out of my carpet and wasting what little we have.”
“We don’t always spill it,” Eddie argued, but when you just cocked an eyebrow at him, he huffed. “Okay, maybe, like, eighty percent of the time.”
“So basically always.” You shook your head and faced forward again, opening the bag of weed and trying not to greedily inhale like a crazy person. God, you’d missed smoking. Your anxiety had been through the roof this past week as everyone waited for the other shoe to drop. You just wanted one night to not think about it. “Just give me five minutes, and I’ll come join you.”
“That’s soooo long, though,” Eddie groaned from behind you. “I don’t know if I’ll make it that long.”
You glanced at him again to see he’d sprawled back dramatically on your pillows, his guitar laying across his chest. He was staring at you with those puppy dog eyes again, but your gaze got sidetracked by the sliver of pale skin just visible between the hem of his black hoodie and the tops of his black and torn jeans— both hand-me-downs from Jonathan, though Eddie was a bit taller. Heat bloomed to life in the pit of your gut, but it was quickly extinguished when you saw the edge of a pink and still-healing scar.
That night, filled with blood and the shrieking of bats, suddenly filled your mind, and now you wanted to be close to him, too, to feel him pressed against you, warm skin and beating heart.
You didn’t say anything as you turned back to the desk, quickly gathered your tray and supplies, and stood from your chair. You crossed the room in two strides, but instead of sitting on the bed itself, you sat on the floor between the wall and the side of the bed. Pressing back against the mattress with Eddie’s legs dangling to the left of you, you stretched out your own legs and set the tray of supplies between your thighs.
“Wait, are you telling me that worked?” Eddie laughed from the bed above you.
“Hush, I’m working,” you muttered, but you leaned your shoulder into the side of his leg to quell the latent panic still haunting the corners of your brain.
He was fine. He was sitting right here beside you, alive, and the two of you were going to get high, so all was right with the world.
You repeated these things to yourself as you slowly ground up some of Jonathan’s weed, but almost like he could hear your thoughts, Eddie suddenly swung himself upright. Then he slid down to sit beside you on the floor, leaving his guitar against your pillows. His legs were longer than yours, so when he stretched them out, his toes brushed the edge of the wall in front of you.
“That’s better,” Eddie sighed as he leaned against you, settling his right hand on top of your thigh.
It was still strange to see his fingers bare, but the ring he previously wore on that hand was now perched on your middle finger, the black stone clicking off the grinder as you turned it. He’d given it to you a few days after he got out of the hospital, at first just lying on your couch with his head in your lap and playfully stacking his rings on your fingers. Most of them were too big, but the gemstone one fit, and he’d grinned so wide when he told you to keep it that you couldn’t deny him.
After a moment, Eddie started idly tugging at the dangling strings of your jean cutoffs, and his touch distracted you enough that you almost dropped the grinder and spilled everything.
“Munson.” You shot him a quick glare, and he grinned, stilling his hand but not taking it away.
“Sorry, princess,” he said. “I’ll be good.”
“I highly doubt that,” you muttered as you carefully opened the grinder, set it on the tray, and reached for the rolling papers.
“I take offense, dear Obi,” Eddie gasped, and his hand squeezed around the meat of your thigh, his thumb slipping under the hem of your shorts.
Your breathing stuttered as the papers crinkled in your hands, and you shot the dark-haired bastard another heated look.
Eddie glanced down at his hand like it wasn’t his, and then he moved it further down toward your knee and shot you another disarming smile.
“Okay, now, I’ll be good,” he said.
You shook your head but didn’t respond this time, instead focusing on the task at hand. Very slowly and very carefully, you bent one of the rolling papers into a shallow trench and then tapped some of the ground-up weed out of the grinder and into the paper. By some miracle, you didn’t spill any, and you set down the grinder and capped it before you started rolling the actual joint. Once you were satisfied by the overall size and shape, you brought the joint up to your mouth and licked the edge, your fingers nimbly rolling the paper into a cylinder and twisting off the ends.
“Ta-da.” You smirked and flourished the joint as you looked up at Eddie, but your smugness evaporated in an instant.
Eddie was staring at you with such an intent expression that you felt naked. His pupils were dilated, turning his already dark eyes into pools of black that glimmered with something you couldn’t name, and his gaze was locked onto your lips. You also realized his hand had tightened around your thigh again, and your skin broke out into goosebumps.
“Um…” Your voice cracked, your mouth suddenly dry, and you snaked your tongue out to wet your lips, Eddie tracking the movement like a predator tracks its prey. “Munson?”
His named seemed to snap him out of hit, and his eyes flicked up to yours.
“What?” he asked. His voice was raspy, rough, like he’d swallowed nails and gravel.
“I, uh…” You fought to regain your composure and suddenly remembered the joint in your hand. “I finished. And I w-will say, it looks pretty perfect. Definitely not too fat.”
Eddie stared at you for a long moment before his gaze finally drifted to the joint between your fingers, and now that his eyes weren’t boring into yours anymore, you felt like you could breathe.
“Hmm, I’ll be the judge of that, Obi,” he said as he plucked the joint from your hand, his voice back to its usual teasing cadence. He narrowed his eyes at the joint, inspecting it from every angle at great detail and making exaggerated faces. After a few moments, he clicked his tongue and looked back at you, and the hint of a smirk was tugging at his lips. “Well, I don’t know about perfect, but it’s pretty good. A solid eight out of ten.”
“Excuse me?” you scoffed, playing along. “And where did I lose two points?”
“The ends are messy,” he said with all seriousness. “And since there are two ends, you lose two points.”
“Fine, then give it back.” You reached out for the joint. “I’ll smoke it all by myself, messy ends and all.”
“Well, now, let’s not be too hasty,” Eddie laughed, leaning back and extending his arm out of your reach. Then he pressed the fingers of his opposite hand to his ear and nodded like someone else was talking to him. “Wait, what’s that? I’m hearing from the other judges that your score has been reconsidered! Perfect ten out of ten.”
“That’s what I thought.” You smirked and sat back against the mattress, picking up the lighter from your tray and tossing it into his lap. “And because I’m so nice, I’ll even let you light it up.”
“Your charity knows no bounds, Obi.” Eddie stuck the end of the joint between his lips and grinned as he picked up the lighter. “One of the things I love most about you.”
His tone and expression were joking, but there was a genuine earnestness to his eyes that made your cheeks flush.
But then he was striking the lighter, bringing the flame to the tip of the joint, and inhaling. You watched his cheeks hollow, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief, and the sight made the heat in your face travel down to the rest of your body.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“Shit,” Eddie exhaled a few seconds later, smoke curling from his lips and rising to the ceiling. The acrid smell hit you like a wave, and already you felt your body relaxing.
No, you needed this.
“Don’t hog it, Munson,” you muttered, nudging your elbow into his arm. “Sharing is caring.”
“And you said I needed patience,” he teased but handed the joint over.
The second it was at your lips, you inhaled slowly, holding the breath deep in your lungs until spots of color began to dance in the corners of your vision. Then you exhaled all at once, a sharp release, and your ears rang slightly as you started to cough.
“Fuckkkk.” You dropped your head back against the edge of the bed. Tears blurred your view of the ceiling, but then you blinked, and drops of warm water trailed down your cheeks.
“I know, right?” Eddie snickered, taking the joint back from you. “This shit’s way better that what I got from Rick. I didn’t know Byers was such a connoisseur.”
“Connoisseur,” you echoed and then giggled. Your head already felt a little swimmy, but that might be from the coughing and lack of oxygen. “That’s a funny word.”
“Blame the French, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled before he took another drag.
The two of you passed the joint for a few rounds, and you felt like you could melt into the carpet. Every knot in every muscle you had unwound bit by bit, and the horrors of the Upside Down and the impending future faded until they were nothing but a distant memory.
“Hey, Obi,” Eddie murmured what felt like minutes and hours later. “Pssst, Obi.”
“Hmmm?” you hummed, lolling your head to the side to look at him.
His face was less than a foot away, so close you could count every pore and laugh line, and his brown eyes were hooded and glassy as they skipped over your face. He was holding the still-smoking joint between his middle and index finger, like he would hold a cigarette, but when he caught your gaze, he shifted his grip so he was holding it more firmly between his index finger and thumb.
“Can I try something?” he asked, and there was a glint in his gaze that you knew you should be worried about, but you felt too relaxed to worry about anything right now. “There’s this thing I’ve always wanted to try…”
“Sure,” you mumbled, and Eddie grinned before he brought the joint to his mouth and inhaled again, the cherry on the end flaring orange.
Then he held the joint out of the way and leaned forward, and dull surprise sparked through your veins when his lips met yours.
You opened up to him instinctively, inhaling sharply just from his proximity, and Eddie seized the opportunity to shotgun the hit he’d taken into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed as his tongue chased the smoke past your teeth, and he flicked the point of it against the roof of your mouth before he pulled away.
You held your breath for as long as you could before exhaling, and when you opened your eyes again, Eddie’s gaze was locked on your face. His eyes were black once more, his head backlit by the lamp on the bedside table behind him, and you suddenly realized what that something in his gaze had been when he’d watched you roll the joint. Because it was there again.
Lust.
Your stomach immediately bottomed out inside of you as every hair on your body stood on end.
It had been three weeks since Eddie woke up in the hospital, three weeks since the two of you confessed your feelings to each other, since he moved into your house. He even slept beside you in your bed every night. Not at first, of course. For the first two nights, he just “slept” on your living room couch while Wayne took the master bedroom. But by the third morning, you couldn’t ignore the dark bags under Eddie’s eyes any longer and so confronted him. He had eventually confessed that he hadn’t been sleeping much. Kept being woken up by nightmares and then panicking that something was in the house and running to check on you in your bedroom. You had laughed a little, then, to his confusion, and told him you’d been checking up on him, too, the pair of you seemingly missing each other like ships in the night. Hell, for all you knew, you were the ones waking each other up.
After that, Eddie moved into your bedroom for both your peace of minds, but like a gentleman, he tried to take the floor. He piled it with sheets and blankets and pillows, assuring you it was fine, but that lasted all of five minutes after the lights were dimmed.
(You never turned them out completely at night, both you and Eddie too uneasy in the dark.)
Emboldened by the shadows hiding your furious blush, you were the one who broke and asked him to just come lie in the bed with you, and after only a few beats, Eddie had slowly and quietly climbed up onto the mattress. He’d been stiff, stretched out beside you on his back, and in an effort to help him relax, you’d rolled on your side to face him, tentatively placing your hand on his chest to show him it was okay. He’d immediately subsided into the sheets, sighing, and turned his head to brush a kiss against your brow. And the two of you slept that night with no nightmares, for either of you.
Since then, you’d slept every night in the same bed as him, and more and more lately, you woke up with him wrapped around you, his front to your back, holding you tightly against his body.
But it had never been sexual. (Well, you had woken up a few times with his morning wood pressed against your back, but that didn’t count, that was just an…unconscious physiological response, and you always pretended to be asleep until he rolled out of bed to go to the bathroom.)
Either way, nothing had happened between you two except for a few heavy makeout sessions, and those never happened in your bedroom. The living room, the kitchen, the hallway, but never the bedroom. And whenever things got too heated, Eddie was always the first to pull away, to press one last kiss to your brow and step back, changing the subject to something innocuous.
You knew it had been because the two of you were so injured at first. You’d only ditched the sling a few days ago, and your arm was still sore, needing to be exercised every morning and night. Eddie had also recently received the all-clear from the doctors, and you wondered if he’d just been waiting to make sure neither of you got hurt.
The look in his eyes was definitely not hesitant now, and you felt your core throb in response.
A thousand thoughts tumbled through your brain like rocks in a dryer, a very slow dryer, because everything felt slow and languid around you, like it always did when you got high. Your skin was lightly buzzing, but your tongue was heavy in your mouth, and Eddie’s hungry gaze continued to pin you to the spot like a butterfly pinned beneath glass.
“Do you…” The words fell from your mouth unbidden, slow like molasses, but nervousness suddenly traced its hand down your spine, making you shiver.
“Do I… what?” Eddie murmured after a moment of silence. His voice was lower than usual, made rougher by the smoke, and you suddenly remembered the joint in his hand.
For courage, you leaned forward and plucked the remnants of the joint from between his fingers. There was maybe one good hit left, so you took it, the embers burning your fingertips as the smoke swirled into your mouth before you held it there. Then, as Eddie’s black eyes swallowed you whole, you bridged the distance between your lips and his. He opened dutifully beneath you, inhaling as you exhaled, and one of his hands came up and cradled your jaw, long fingers framing your face.
Once your lungs were emptied, you pulled back a fraction, and since you were feeling a little more brave, you trapped his lower lip between your teeth and tugged. You let him go just as quickly, but Eddie’s fingers had burrowed into your hair now, holding you in place.
Your eyes fluttered open— when had you closed them?— and you could see a tiny version of yourself reflected in Eddie’s wide pupils. Then he exhaled sharply, a curtain of smoke rising between your faces, and you were just about to pull further back when he lunged forward and smashed his mouth against yours.
His sudden ferocity startled a gasp out of you, and Eddie cupped your face more soundly as he leaned forward, his tongue delving past your lips and pulling up a moan from deep within your chest.
You had just enough sense left to drop the ashes of the joint on your tray before you were tangling both hands in Eddie’s hair and kissing him back with equal intensity. The rings on his left hand felt cold against your temple, your cheek, but everywhere else you felt hot, so hot. His mouth was like a furnace, a fiery brand, tasting of ash and smoke.
You were both gasping for breath every time your lips parted, but then one of you would dive back in for more, teeth and tongues clashing. When his left hand trailed from your cheek down to your neck, you thought you were going to combust, and then his other hand tiptoed up your thigh, and you knew you were going to burst into flame.
The apex of your thighs throbbed again when his fingers brushed the hem of your shorts, and you whimpered before you ripped your mouth away, gasping for breath and dropping your hands from his hair.
“Come back here,” Eddie muttered as he chased after you, but then he suddenly hissed and froze.
The pained note in his voice abruptly cleared some of the fog from your mind, and you blinked as your gaze zeroed in on him.
“Are—” God, your voice sounded wrecked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie nodded, but his eyes were tightly closed as he faced forward and leaned back against the bed again. “Just… twisted a little too far.”
His right hand ghosted over his side, and you chewed on your swollen lower lip.
“Sorry,” you murmured, guilt stabbing through you. He was still healing, and here you were being a horny mess.
Eddie opened the eye closest to you, and then, when he saw your expression, he opened the other and turned his head to face you.
“Nothing you should be apologizing for, princess,” he said, and his smile turned a little sheepish before he continued. “That was… so fuckin’ hot.”
His voice took on that gravelly quality again, and you could feel slickness pool in your panties.
“Yeah,” you breathed, the filter between your mind and mouth nonexistent, shrouded by smoke and the buzzing feeling in your veins. “It was.”
Hunger flashed in Eddie’s gaze again, and he reached his arm out to you.
“Come here,” he muttered, flexing his fingers in a grabby motion.
“I’m sitting right next to you,” you said, but you didn’t fight it when his fingers gently latched onto your wrist.
“Not close enough.” Eddie pouted at you, tugging your arm.
You were half turned anyway, so you kneeled and shifted to fully face him, shuffling forward until your knees were pressed to the outside of his thigh.
“Closerrrrr,” he hummed and tugged at you again.
You realized he wanted you to straddle his lap, and a wave of heat washed over you from head to toe.
“I-I don’t want to hurt you again,” you tried to argue.
“You didn’t hurt me in the first place, Obi,” he said with a lopsided smile, the one that always tore down all of your defenses. “I just turned in a weird way. Buttttt, if you’re sitting right in front of me…”
He yanked at your arm a third time, and to keep from falling over, you clumsily slung a leg over his lap. Once you regained your balance, you hovered over him with your knees digging into the carpet on either side of his thighs, and he grinned up at you.
“Now I don’t have to turn at all,” Eddie finished, sounding proud of himself, but it was hard to be angry at him when his hands were settling on your hips, thumbs rubbing at the jut of your hip bones through your shorts.
“That’s… good,” you said. The slow-firing synapses in your brain were unable to come up with anything else.
“Doing okay there, sweetheart?” he asked as he smiled up at you. His thumbs were still stroking your hips, slowly driving you insane.
Your mouth was so dry, but you swallowed as best you could and nodded.
“Yeah,” you murmured, but then you wobbled on your knees and had to put your hands on his shoulders for balance.
“You sure?” Eddie chuckled before he tugged on your hips. “Why don’t you sit back a bit, Ms. Weeble-Wobble.”
You slowly sat back on his thighs, careful to not crush his legs, and Eddie smiled when you were at eye level.
“Hi,” he said, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.
“Hi,” you giggled back, and then giggled again as you settled more comfortably on his thighs. “Shit, this stuff is good. I feel like I could float away.”
“Yeah, we’re definitely moving to California,” Eddie snickered and squeezed his hands over your hips. “And don’t worry. I’ll keep you anchored, princess.”
“You always do,” you sighed, and something flashed in the dark depths of his bloodshot eyes, but it was gone just as fast, fleeting and mercurial.
“What were you going to ask me before?”
“Huh?” You blinked to focus on his face a little better, and Eddie was staring at you intently.
“You started to ask me something before you took that last hit,” he clarified. “You said, ‘Do you…?’”
You frowned as you tried to remember, wading through smoke and the memories of his mouth hot against yours. Then you suddenly recalled why you’d taken that last hit in the first place, and your face burned with embarrassment.
“I don’t remember… it was nothing,” you said, squirming in his lap and then stopping when the movement pressed the seam of your shorts into your clit.
Fuck, when did you get so wet?
“Well, that’s not contradictory,” Eddie teased. “Which is it, Obi? You don’t remember, or it was nothing?”
“It was stupid,” you amended and refused to meet his eyes, staring instead at a spot on the bed above his shoulder.
“I highly doubt that,” he scoffed, but when you stayed silent, he reached out, gently took your chin between his thumb and index finger, and turned you to face him. He was still smiling gently, but his eyes were serious. “Nothing you say or do could ever be stupid.”
The sincerity in his face and voice made you blush even deeper, and you wished he would just drop it, but Eddie Munson was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something, and he stared at you patiently as he waited for you to respond.
“Fine, it’s… embarrassing,” you huffed, and you shifted your hands on his shoulders so you could fiddle with his curls.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Eddie smirked and turned to playfully nip at your fingers. “Come on, tell me.”
You stubbornly shook your head, pressing your lips together, and Eddie narrowed his eyes. After a moment, a familiar glimmer of mischief flashed across his face, and one of his hands abandoned your hips to cup your cheek.
Then he leaned forward until his lips were just a hair’s breadth away from yours, but he paused before kissing you.
“Not even if I say pretty please?” he whispered as he tossed your earlier words back at you, warm breath fanning across your lips.
His proximity, the warmth of his hands on your cheek and hip, and the high still buzzing through your body, it all overwhelmed your senses, short circuited your brain, and your mouth opened of its own accord.
“Do you want to have sex with me?” you blurted out.
Your words echoed in the deafening silence that followed, and Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise, his teasing expression going slack.
You were so embarrassed, you were sure your blood was going to start boiling.
“W-Wait, no, that’s not what I— that was stupid, oh my god, forget I said that… like that,” you rambled. Your tongue felt clumsy and alien in your mouth, and at this point you wanted to bite it off. Instead, you slammed your eyes closed and tried to pull away. “Never mind, I’ll just—”
“Woah, hey, now,” Eddie said, clamping his hands around your waist and keeping you seated on his thighs. “Where’s the fire? Come on, Obi, it’s okay. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re high.”
You peeked open your eyes to see him smiling at you reassuringly, and he was just so beautiful, so kind, that you couldn’t stop yourself from digging your hole even deeper.
“I… did mean it,” you murmured, and again your words seemed to surprise Eddie, his fingers flexing around your waist. You thought you saw his pupils dilate even further, and that gave you the courage to go on. “I-I mean, I know I’m high, but tonight isn’t the first time I’ve… thought about this. It was bad enough when we were just friends and I thought I didn’t have a shot with you, but ever since that first time you kissed me in the hospital, I’ve been… And I know we’ve both been healing, and the world is set to end at any moment, but I just… I want you, Eddie.”
You were panting for breath by the end of your little spiel, and you bit your lip as you searched his face for a reaction. You hadn’t been very eloquent, but you hoped he understood what you were trying to say.
Eddie’s pupils were definitely blown now, swallowing his irises into inky pools that contrasted with his reddened sclera. He exhaled shakily and licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat clicked with a swallow, and you thought you could feel his fingers tremble where they were still resting on your waist.
“Are—” Eddie started, stopped, cleared his throat. Then his gaze met yours, and you were surprised to see the uncertainty there. “Are you sure, Obi? B-Because I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’m perfectly fine with taking things slow, just kissing you— god, just kissing you is already enough to drive me fucking insane. So we don’t have to rush. I don’t… I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. I don’t want to hurt you. Never want to hurt you.”
That last sentence was murmured softly, Eddie’s face twisting, and your heart twisted along with it. This man. This ridiculous, noble, gentle, kind man. You loved him with your entire being.
“You could never hurt me, Eddie Munson,” you said, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. The kiss was soft, barely there, and you didn’t seek to deepen it. Instead, you pulled back and moved one of your hands to his cheek, stubble scraping across your palm as your pressed your forehead to his and stared into his eyes. “And if you want to wait, that’s okay with me. Because I agree, kissing you is pretty awesome.”
Eddie cracked a smile, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.
“But,” you continued, your voice dropping low, and Eddie fingers tightened around your waist in response. “Just so you know, I could never regret anything I do with you. How could I regret something I’ve been dreaming about for almost an entire year?”
Eddie sucked in a breath and held it, and under your palm, you felt the muscles of his jaw flex as he ground his teeth together. He studied your face for a long, endless moment before he suddenly jerked his hips up. His belt buckle just barely brushed your clit through your shorts, but it was enough to tear a gasp from you, pleasure zapping through every nerve in your body, and Eddie snapped.
One of his hands left your waist to grab the back of your head, and then he was tugging you forward, crashing your mouth against his.
“Fuck, okay, yes, god, yes,” he gasped between kisses, and his hands were everywhere, in your hair, dragging down your spine, grabbing your ass to pull you against him.
“I… take it… you don’t want to… wait?” you couldn’t help but tease in the brief moments he released your lips.
“You’re not the only one who’s been dreaming of this, sweetheart,” he muttered as his mouth left yours, trailing across your jaw and down your neck. He pressed a kiss over your pulse point, and your breathing stuttered.
“Then maybe we should turn those dreams… into reality?” you suggested and tilted your head back to give him more access. The fact that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him made you bold, and you ground down into his lap to further emphasize your point.
“Shit,” Eddie hissed, and then his mouth was on yours again, hungry and insistent. His tongue traced over every one of your teeth before he pulled back and nipped at your lip, his voice coming out in a desperate gasp. “J-Just tell me what to do, Obi. Fuck, I’ll do anything, anything you want, just tell me.”
It could have just been dirty talk, but you thought you detected a strange note of uncertainty to his words, and the fire building in your gut cooled a degree as you pulled back and looked into Eddie’s face. His eyes were glassy and full of lust, but you saw insecurity there, too, and a question jumped to the forefront of your mind and off your tongue before you could stop it.
“Have you… done this before?” you asked.
Eddie winced slightly, more of that insecurity blooming on his face, and you felt him start to fiddle with his rings against your right hip.
“Well, um, technically, no, b-but I know the general gist. Talk floats around the boy’s locker room, ya know, and all those magazines under my bed certainly painted a picture— shit, fuck, forget I said that. What I’m trying to say is all of my knowledge is, uh, theoretical, not practical. Not a lot of girls lining up to sleep with the trailer trash freak who sells drugs and worships Satan and… wow, I’m really selling myself here, huh? So sexy. Shit.”
Groaning, Eddie clenched his eyes shut and dropped his head back, but you chased after him, rising up on your knees a little to lean into his chest.
“Hey,” you muttered, and when he wouldn’t look at you, you reached out with both hands to cup his face. “Hey, Munson.”
Reluctantly, he tilted his head up and opened his eyes, and you smiled.
“Hi there,” you giggled, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose like he had done to you earlier.
“Hi,” he grumbled back, but he let you brush his bangs out of his face and met your gaze.
“For the record,” you said as you ran your thumbs over his stubbled cheeks, and you couldn’t help but dip down and press a quick kiss to his parted lips. “I still think you’re very sexy.”
“Uh-huh,” Eddie muttered, sounding unconvinced.
“I’m serious.” You met his eyes again before your own started to trail over the features of his face. “Sexy. Handsome. Pretty. Beautiful. I think of at least one of these words every time I look at you. Your eyes always make me feel like my lungs forgot how to work, and every time you smile, especially if it’s directed at me, the world stops for just an instant. And don’t even get me started on the tattoos and jewelry. Chicks dig that stuff, you know?”
You ended on a partial joke because Eddie had started to squirm under your praise, but then he looked up at you, shifted one of your hands off his cheek, and pressed a kiss to your palm. He looked less uncomfortable now, less insecure, but his smile was still tentative.
“So… I haven’t ruined my chances, then?” he asked, and seeing the lust spark back to life in his eyes made you clench your thighs together.
“Definitely not,” you muttered as you hovered over him, your lips slowly descending toward his again.
“And you’re sure it doesn’t… bother you? That I haven’t… you know?”
“Not at all,” you breathed. You were less than a centimeter away from kissing him, but a sudden thought popped into your head, and you felt it only fair to voice it. “Does it bother you that I have?”
“No.” Eddie���s response was instantaneous, full of sincerity, and you couldn’t wait any longer. You dove down and slanted your mouth over his, and Eddie groaned against you, his fingers digging into your waist. All of his hesitation was gone now, and his hands burned a path down your back to cup your ass. You whimpered into the kiss, and your noise seemed to spur him on, because the next thing you knew, he was shifting his feet behind you and pushing upright.
“Eddie!” you gasped as you tore your mouth from his. “Be careful!”
“I got you, sweetheart, don’t worry,” he chuckled once he was fully on his feet, his hands tucked under your thighs that were wrapped around his waist.
“I’m more worried about you hurting yourself.” You frowned. You weren’t exactly thin, not like Nancy and Robin. “Put me down.”
“As the lady requests.” Eddie smirked and then turned, throwing you down on the bed beside his guitar, which he immediately moved out of the way and onto the floor. He was grinning when he looked back at you, but he seemed to freeze at the sight of you sprawled across the mattress.
You were wearing jean cutoffs, his old Metallica shirt that Dustin saved from the trailer, and a worn red flannel on top. It was a casual outfit, not even especially cute, but Eddie was staring down at you like you were wearing the sexiest set of lingerie.
“Fuck, Obi,” he breathed as his eyes pinned you to the mattress, and you squirmed under his scrutiny.
“Well, are you just going to stand there and stare at me, Munson?” you asked, cheeks flushing.
“Hell no,” he said, and then he was climbing onto the bed, hovering over you on his forearms and claiming your lips once again. He wore a new guitar pick necklace, the pick having fallen out of his copy of The Hobbit the other night. At some point, he’d apparently forgotten he was using it as a bookmark, but now it was hanging on a loose silver chain, brushing your jaw and neck as it dangled from his throat.
The two of you made out for a minute, but then Eddie started pressing kisses down your neck. When he reached your collarbones, he paused to dip his tongue into the hollow between them, and you moaned as you arched your back. The weed high was still making everything feel tingly and cranked up to eleven, and you could already feel that your panties were sticking to you beneath your shorts.
“Eddie, please,” you gasped as you buried a hand into his mane of curls.
“What do you want, Obi?” he muttered against the base of your throat, licking the skin there again.
“You.” Squirming, you arched up into him again, brain fuzzy with pleasure. “I-I want you. Want you to touch me.”
“Shit, sweetheart,” Eddie groaned before he lifted his head to seize your lips in another kiss. “Where? Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Everywhere,” you whined, reaching for the hem of your own shirt. It suddenly felt stifling in your bedroom, and you could feel sweat bead along your brow.
Eddie let out a litany of curses, but he helped to slip the shirt off over your head, and then you reached behind yourself and undid the clasp of your bra with a flick, too impatient to wait.
As you tossed the bra away and fell back onto the bed again, you saw that Eddie’s wide eyes were glued to your breasts, and his mouth hung open like the hinge of his jaw had broken.
“Oh, f-fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Obi, god, I want to put my mouth on them.” His dark gaze flicked to yours, begging. “Can I? Please?”
You wanted to tease him, but the earnest way he asked your permission made your pussy clench around nothing, and all you could do was nod your head.
Eddie wasted no time, diving down and immediately dragging his tongue over one of your nipples. The shock of his wet, hot mouth made you gasp, then whine as he closed his lips around you and sucked.
“O-Oh, shit,” you moaned when he reached up and tweaked your other nipple with his nimble fingers.
“Feel good?” he mumbled, words muffled by your flesh.
“So good,” you breathed and then cried out when he ran his teeth across your nipple. “F-Fuck! Don’t stop, don’t…”
You trailed off into another moan as Eddie flicked the nipple he wasn’t sucking on, the nub pebbling between his fingers.
“Goddamn, you make the prettiest noises, princess,” the metalhead muttered between your breasts, switching from one to the other. “Better than I ever dreamed of. And I’ve dreamed about sucking your titties a lot.”
The vulgar confession made more slick pool in your panties, and you whimpered as you reached an arm down, wiggling it between the two of you until you found the button of your jeans. But you couldn’t open it from this angle, and you groaned in frustration.
“Please, Eddie,” you begged, using your other hand to tug at his hair until he released your nipple with a slick ‘pop.’
“What?” he asked as he looked up at you, and his eyes were glassy with pleasure. You could also feel where he was hard against your thigh, and you pressed up into his bulge, making him stutter out a moan.
“Pants,” you gasped, reaching for the button of your shorts again. “Help me… help me get them off.”
“Shit,” Eddie exhaled with wide eyes as he watched you lift your hips, and then he was fumbling into motion. “Yeah, here let me just…”
With his help, you were able to push your cutoffs down your thighs and kick them away, but he stopped you when you reached for your panties.
“Eddieeee,” you whined, but he clasped your wrist firmly and pressed your hand into the bed beside your hip.
“Slow downnnn, Obi,” he said, that familiar teasing lilt in his voice, and he flashed a lopsided smile as he started to crawl down the length of you. “There are some things I want to savor.”
“Sadist,” you pouted, and Eddie opened his mouth like he was going to retort, but then his eyes zeroed in on the apex of your thighs.
“Fuckkkkk,” he breathed as he lied down on his stomach, legs dangling off the bed and his gaze glued to your pussy. “You’re so… wet. Did I do this to you?”
The awed disbelief in his voice made you moan, and you tried to clench your thighs together, but Eddie grabbed them, fingers digging into your skin.
“No, don’t hide,” his said, voice breathless. “I— fuck, I want to—”
He broke off suddenly and then just darted forward, licking a hot stripe up your slit that you felt even through the soaked fabric of your panties.
“Oh!” you gasped, the syllable cracking in the middle, and your hips bucked toward his face.
Eddie pulled back as he licked his lips, and then his wide eyes flicked from your pussy, to your face, and back again.
“S-Shit, you’re right,” he rasped out, and his fingers started clawing at your hips, tugging your panties down your thighs. “These have to go, gotta get out of the way, f-fuck.”
You giggled a little at his frantic fumbling and the way he threw your underwear over his shoulder, but then his hands were sliding up your thighs again, prying them apart, and the laughter hitched in your lungs when his eyes zeroed in on where you were wet and trembling.
“Je-Jesus Christ.” Eddie swallowed sharply as he lowered himself onto his stomach again, his gaze still locked on your pussy. “I— Jesus H. Christ. God, you look so pretty, so… Fuck, can I taste you, Obi? Please?”
Your whole body flushed, from the tips of your ears to your toes, and you squirmed beneath him.
“Y-You don’t have to,” you muttered. Despite not being a virgin yourself, you’d actually only slept with one other person, and he never did that to you. In fact, the whole “losing you virginity” thing took less than five minutes and was ultimately pretty unsatisfying.
“Oh, I want to, baby,” Eddie corrected as his eyes finally clicked to yours, dark with hunger. “Holy shit, do I want to.”
The last remnants of saliva in your mouth dried up, but you felt more wetness trickle out between your legs.
“O-Okay.” Your voice shook as you nodded, and Eddie grinned like you told him he won the lottery.
Fuck, he was going to destroy you.
Eddie wiggled a little to get more comfortable, but after a moment, he ended up just kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, tugging you down until your butt met the edge of the mattress.
You gasped as he parted your thighs to make room for his broad shoulders, and he smiled as he trailed kisses up each of your legs before he pushed them back so your feet dangled near his ears.
In this position, you felt vulnerable, all of you laid out and laid bare, but the absolute adoration and lust in Eddie’s eyes chased away any of your lingering insecurities.
“Damn, I wish I had a camera,” he muttered as his gaze dragged over you, hot enough to burn. “You look… so fucking incredible.”
“Eddie, stop teasing me,” you huffed, reaching out to twine your fingers through his curls. “Please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely, pretty girl.” He smirked, but then his cocky expression grew a little hesitant. “I-I’ll probably fuck it up at first, but just tell me what feels good. I want to make you feel good.”
You nodded frantically, but all your words were lost when Eddie leaned forward, his breath fanning over your slick folds. His fingers dug into the meat of your thighs as he anchored himself, the rings on his left hand cold against your overheated skin. Then the flat of his tongue dragged across your pussy, and your vision whited out.
“F-Fuck!” You tossed your head back as pleasure zapped through you, and you unintentionally tugged on Eddie’s hair, pulling him further between your thighs.
“Oh, god,” Eddie whimpered, and then he was suddenly licking you with fervor, delving between your folds until his nose bumped into your clit. Even that slight stimulation to your bundle of nerves had you jolting, and Eddie noticed, shifting his mouth upward, tongue swirling in circles that made you see stars.
“Eddieeee,” you keened to the ceiling when he sucked your clit between his lips, and he immediately popped his head up so you could just see his wide eyes and slick mouth over the curve of your belly.
“Holy shit, you taste so fucking good, Obi,” he said, voice guttural. “Am I— does it feel good, too?”
“Y-Yes, fuck, Eddie, feels incredible,” you panted as you tugged at his hair. “Please don’t stop.”
Eddie stared at your flushed and writhing body for a moment before he was diving back between your legs, tongue and lips everywhere. He was a little sloppy, saliva mixing with your arousal and making everything slick, but his eagerness made up for it. He was also very attuned to your every sound and twitch, so when he dipped his tongue into your entrance, and your moans rose in pitch, he started swirling the tip of his tongue around your hole until you were practically sobbing. Then he fucked his tongue into you as far as it could go, his nose pressed firmly to your clit, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.
You didn’t know if it was the weed still singing through your veins or if it was just Eddie, but your orgasm crept up on you without warning. One moment, Eddie was pressing a sucking kiss to your clit before fucking his tongue back into you, groaning at the taste, and in the next instant, your spine was arching off the bed as every muscle in your body locked up.
“Shit, I’m-- ohhhhhh!” you wailed as Eddie rapidly thrust his tongue into you, shaking his head at the same time so his nose flicked back and forth over your clit.
It felt like you shattered into a million pieces, lights and colors exploding behind your tightly shut eyelids. You could distantly feel your legs spasming and clamping around Eddie’s head, but he was still moaning as he tongue-fucked you through your climax. You whimpered and clawed at his hair, feeling like every nerve in your body was an exposed live-wire, chanting his name until you ran out of breath.
Once your whines took on a slightly pained quality, Eddie pulled his mouth away, and it was like you were a puppet whose strings got cut, because you immediately slumped into the bed.
Air sawed in and out of your lungs as you gasped for breath, and you stared blindly at the spinning ceiling while you slowly descended back into your body. Your limbs felt like they were filled with static, but you mustered up enough energy to lift you head and look down toward the foot of the bed.
Eddie was still kneeling on the floor between your legs, and you felt your walls flutter around nothing at the glimmer of your juices smeared across his chin. His breathing was as ragged as your own, and his hair was wild, mussed by your fingers. When he caught your eye, he exhaled sharply and half-heartedly dragged the back of his wrist against his chin, his chain bracelet glinting in the light of your lamp.
“Jesus Christ, Obi,” he grunted out, and his black eyes threatened to swallow you whole. “That was… fuck, that was so goddamn hot. I could feel you fluttering around my tongue. Shit.”
He reached down with his right hand, and though the edge of the bed hid it from view, you knew he was palming his cock through his jeans. His obvious arousal made you throb again, and you bit your lip.
“I’ve… I’ve never cum that fast,” you confessed, and your cheeks still flushed with embarrassment even though the man in front of you had been tongue deep in your pussy just seconds ago.
Eddie groaned at your admission, and then both of his hands were latching onto your inner thighs again, thumbs smearing saliva and slick into your skin.
“Do you— can you do it again?” he asked, his dilated eyes flicking from your folds to your face. “I want to see you do it again. Wanna see you cum, pretty girl.”
His pet names made more slick drip out of you, made your thoughts fizz out into static for a moment, but then you frowned and propped yourself up on your elbows.
“What about you?” From this angle, you could see his lower half, and his cock was straining against his tight black jeans. It looked like it hurt. “I want to make you feel good, too. Can I put my mouth on you instead?”
Another groan rattled deep in Eddie’s chest, and he had to reach down again to press the heel of his palm into his crotch.
“Christ, that’s fucking tempting,” he panted, but then his eyes drifted back to your pussy, and they got that hungry glint in them as he leaned down and darted his tongue between your folds.
You cried out as your elbows buckled, your spine falling back to the mattress.
“But you just taste too goddamn good, baby,” he muttered against your clit. “Wanna make you feel good again. Want you to fall apart on my tongue, my fingers.”
You whined as he started licking at you once more, and soon you could feel the coil in your gut tightening bit by bit. This time, Eddie focused his mouth around your clitoris, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it between his lips, and when your legs started twitching around his ears, he snaked a hand down your belly and pressed a finger to your entrance.
You immediately shoved your hips down, sucking his finger in to the knuckle, and the two of you moaned in unison, the sound rattling through your bones.
“O-Oh, fuck,” Eddie hissed as his twisted his finger inside you, pressing against the walls of your pussy. “Fuck, Obi, you’re so wet and goddamn tight. Holy shit.”
“Eddie,” you whimpered, clenching around him. His finger was thicker than any of yours were, but it was still not enough, so you bore down, tears gathering along your lashes as you begged. “M-More. Please, Eddie. Y-Your finger f-feels so good— fuck! So good. I need another one, please.”
You were practically sobbing now, humping into his hand, and Eddie leaned down to pepper kisses over your inner thighs.
“Shhh, shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, and you felt the tip of a second finger prod at your entrance. “It’s okay, baby, I got you, give you everything you want. Anything you want. Here you go… shit, you gotta relax sweetheart, let me in.”
You whined but listened as best as you could, and a moment later, he slotted both fingers home inside of you, drawing a shout from deep within your chest. Your pussy immediately clamped down around both digits, but Eddie twisted and spread them inside you, stretching your walls, until he brushed up against that one spongy spot that caused you to wail.
“Fuck, is that it, baby? Is that the spot?” he grunted, pressing more insistently on it.
You couldn’t respond because your toes were starting to curl, your moans rising in pitch, but apparently that was all the response Eddie needed because he suddenly started thrusting his fingers, hard. They nailed your G-spot with pinpoint accuracy, squelching through your wetness, and then you felt his thumb brush over your clit.
“Cum for me, Obi,” he said as he pressed on your pleasure zones from both the inside and outside. “Cum on my fingers. Want to see it so bad, baby, please.”
The coil in your gut spun tighter and tighter, but it finally exploded when Eddie leaned down and sank his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh.
Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and you felt yourself levitate off the bed as your second climax crashed into you like a tsunami wave. The weed in your system amplified the sensations once again, sending your mind into the stratosphere and your limbs spasming like you were being electrocuted. Then there was a gush of wetness between your thighs, and Eddie’s guttural groan echoed through your bones.
The world blacked out around you for a moment, and when you came to, you were sprawled limp on the bed. Your chest heaved as your lungs fought for oxygen, but the sensation of a wet tongue dragging across your thigh caused you to jerk.
You blearily glanced down at Eddie, and a gasp whistled between your teeth at what you saw.
His curly head was propped against your thigh, which he was still kitten licking, but what shocked you were the droplets dripping off his cheeks, jaw, and bangs. Then you shifted, and you realized you were lying in a very wet spot.
“F-Fuck!” You propped yourself up on shaking elbows, disbelief burning through you. “Did I…”
You trailed off, unable to complete the sentence, and Eddie’s eyes finally met yours. They looked like twin oceans of oil that were threatening to suck you under.
“Squirt?” he finished your hanging question, and his tongue flicked out to lick a drop of your juices off his chin. “Fuck yeah you did. Hottest thing I’ve ever goddamn seen.”
“Shittttt, I’m sorry,” you groaned and covered your face with both hands, falling back onto the bed as shame spiraled through you. “I-I forgot that smoking sometimes makes me do… that.”
It had happened twice, both times after you left Eddie’s trailer high and had to come home to satiate the burning ache between your legs. It had been embarrassing then— when you were alone, and no one saw you shamefully wash your sheets in the middle of the might— but it was mortifying now.
Eddie was silent for a moment, but then you felt him shift, the bed dipping as he climbed up onto his feet and hovered over you.
“Did you miss the part where I said that was the hottest goddamn thing I’ve seen in my life?” he asked, and when you wouldn’t reply, he used one of his hands to pry yours from your face. His fingers were tacky against your skin, and you flushed when you realized it was from your orgasm.
“R-Really?” you asked tentatively, finding his eyes, and the lust in his brown gaze almost set you aflame.
In response, Eddie lowered his hips, rolling them against your own until his erection pressed into the crease of your thigh. He was hard as steel, and since he was still somehow fully clothed, his belt buckle and jeans scraped over your sensitive skin deliciously.
A whimper caught in the back of your throat, and Eddie dove down to seize your lips. You groaned at the tangy taste of yourself, and he rolled his hips into your thigh again.
“What do you think?” Eddie asked against your lips, the question half growl, and even though you’d already cum twice, desire ignited in your belly again.
“I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you muttered as you reached down to grab the hem of his hoodie, but the instant you brushed fabric, his fingers latched onto your wrist, his grip tight and unyielding.
You thought he was teasing you again, but when you looked up at his face, the lust that had been there was suddenly gone, replaced by an uneasy fear.
His expression immediately made you still.
“Eddie?” you asked and shifted your head to meet his gaze more directly under the shadow of his bangs. “Are you… okay?”
“Y-Yeah.” He smiled shakily and cleared his throat before he turned the wattage up on the smile, but it still looked forced. You stared at him patiently for about ten seconds, and when Eddie saw he hadn’t convinced you, he sighed and averted his eyes. “It’s just, uhh, can I keep my shirt o-on?”
The question hung between the two of you for a moment, and Eddie seemed to hunch more into the curtain of his hair.
“If that’s what you’re comfortable with, of course,” you said as you frowned at him, frown deepening when he seemed to sigh in relief. “But… can I ask why?”
His sudden change in demeanor concerned you, and you could feel your desire fading, taking a back seat as you hesitantly reached out and cupped his face. Eddie ground his jaw beneath your palm, but when he finally met your eyes, his expression fractured.
“It’s just—” he started, stopped, took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he turned his head and nuzzled into your palm. “I… don’t exactly look pretty from the neck down anymore. Damn bats really ruined my bikini body, ya know? And I just didn’t want my s-scars to ruin the mood, but hey, would you look at that, I did it all by myself, huh?”
He laughed in a dry, self-deprecating manner, but you immediately tilted his head up.
“Eddie, look at me, open your eyes,” you said firmly, and after a moment of hesitation, he obeyed. His deep brown eyes looked so lost now, so uncertain and scared, it broke your goddamn heart. “Eddie Munson, I want you to listen to me, and listen good. First off, you didn’t ruin anything. Secondly, and more importantly, you are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met—”
He opened his mouth, probably intent to argue, but you narrowed your eyes at him, and his lips pursed shut.
“You are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met,” you repeated as you held his gaze. “Both inside and out. And I know for a fact that will not change no matter what’s under your shirt. I-I love you, Eddie. Did you forget that?”
“No,” he murmured, voice strained.
“Good,” you said. “Because I do. Munson, I love you so much it drives me insane. Literally insane. Insane enough that I dove head first into a hellish dimension and took on an army of bats with a lighter, a can of hairspray, and a busted shoulder.”
Eddie cracked a smile at that, his eyes going soft as melted chocolate. “My warrior princess.”
“Damn straight,” you huffed before you grew serious again. “But I love you, Eddie. Love the way you are so passionate about everything, be it DnD or learning a new song on the guitar. I love the way you’re always looking to make someone smile, someone laugh, or feel included. And I love how fiercely loyal you are, even to the point of stupidity. So nothing about you could ever be ugly. Especially not your scars. Because those scars mean y-you’re still with me, still alive. I’m, fuck, I’m so goddamn grateful for those scars, Munson.”
Your voice grew rough with tears, the backs of your eyes burning, and Eddie’s face twisted.
“Fuck, Obi, no, don’t cry. Come here.” He quickly gathered your naked body up in his arms, and then he half-carried, half-dragged you up the bed until you were both settled against the headboard. “Shhhh. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m such an idiot.”
“No, no, you’re not,” you argued, rubbing your face into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you. He sighed into your hair, the sound tortured, and you knew you needed to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe a little. Sometimes. But not right now.”
“Ah, so the truth comes out.”
You snorted as you wiped your eyes against his hoodie and lifted your head off his shoulder, and Eddie immediately brushed back the hair hanging in your face. The two of you were settled on your sides—you, on your right, and him on his left— and his other hand, the one not in your hair, was wrapped around your back. His fingers trailed over your spine, spreading shivers, and you flushed a little when you remembered you were naked. You were naked, thighs still tacky with your release, and one of your legs was slotted between his.
“Sorry, again,” Eddie murmured as his eyes roamed over your face. “For, you know, ruining the mood and making you cry.”
You shook your head before you leaned up, pressing your lips chastely to his.
“Stop apologizing,” you said. “If anyone ruined the mood, it was me, the crybaby.”
Eddie smirked, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “A very cute crybaby.”
You nipped at his thumb in retaliation, but when you felt his breath hitch, you flicked your thumb across the pad before drawing the whole digit into your mouth. Eddie stopped breathing completely then, and his eyes darkened as they stared intently at where your lips were wrapped around his thumb.
You sucked in briefly, hollowing your cheeks, and something twitched against your thigh from where it was wedged between his.
“Shit, Obi—” Eddie started, then hissed when you rocked your thigh into his crotch.
“I still haven’t made you feel good,” you whispered once you released his thumb with a pop. “Can I, Eddie? Please?”
“Fuck, how am I supposed to say no to that?” he groaned before he captured your mouth with his. When he pulled away, he was breathing hard, muttering against your lips as he rocked against your thigh. “Asking so sweetly, almost as sweet as you taste. Fuck, I love you, Obi. You know that, right? Tell me you know that.”
“I know, I know, love you, too,” you gasped and pressed your naked body against him, losing yourself in his kisses for a moment before you pulled away. He chased after you with a whine, but you placed your hand on his chest and pressed him back into the pillows propped up against the headboard. “But let me take care of you this time, baby.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and then exhaled shakily as you carefully straddled his lap. “F-Fucking-- Christ, you’re so beautiful, Obi.”
“Mmmm, you, too,” you hummed and pecked a quick kiss against his lips. Then you leaned back a little, met his eyes, and took the hem of his hoodie between your fingers. “Let me see you?”
Eddie bit his lip and looked a little hesitant, but after a moment, he nodded.
You smiled and gave him another kiss. “Thank you.”
Even though he’d given you consent, you still took it slow as you worked the hoodie up over his chest and tossed it to the side. Eddie flicked his hair out of his eyes as his hands settled tentatively on your waist, and you ducked to press your lips against the tip of his nose.
“Hi, there, handsome,” you said, reveling in the slight flush that spread across his lightly freckled cheeks. You traced the spreading red hue with your lips, then your tongue, shifting as you trailed across his jaw and down his neck.
“Obi,” Eddie rasped as his fingers flexed around your waist.
“Shhhh.” You dipped your tongue into his collarbone like he had done to you earlier. “Unless you want me to stop, just lie back and let me make you feel good. Do you want me to stop, Eddie?”
“N-No, fuck, no,” he stuttered, tilting his neck back to give you more room.
You smiled against his skin and sucked a quick hickey into the base of his throat, causing him to moan, but then you pulled away and shuffled backwards so you were kneeling more over his knees than his thighs. Eddie’s fingers slipped from your waist as you sat up more fully, and you felt him stiffen slightly below you as you gazed down at his bare chest.
You were careful to keep you face completely neutral, but your heart ached inside your chest for the boy beneath you. You’d seen glimpses of him shirtless before, usually when he spilled something on himself while you two were getting high at his trailer, and he stumbled around his room half-naked to look for a semi-clean shirt. So, the long, pale expanse of his torso wasn’t necessarily new to you. You even knew all of his tattoos by heart, mostly because he loved showing them off. There were the bats, the wyvern, and the puppet master on his right arm, on his forearm, tricep, and inside of his wrist respectively. Then there was the black widow spider below his left collarbone and the skull of a demon below the spider, just above his heart.
Except both the spider and the demon were unrecognizable now.
Eddie’s chest and abdomen were covered in ropy scars, pink and knotted and barely healed. Slashes marred the tattoos on his chest, so the images were dissected and distorted. But the scars on his stomach— above his right hip and below the left side of his ribcage— were worse. These scars were more jagged, both from the demo-bats’ teeth, and from where you’d burned him with a serrated knife to cauterize his wounds. The skin there was more red than pink, and you frowned as you ghosted your fingers over the raised lines, almost but not quite touching.
“Obi?” Eddie asked, and the quiet timidness in his voice snapped you out of it.
You flicked your eyes up to find him starting at you with his lip caught between his teeth, and the tinge of fear in his eyes made your throat tight again, but you shoved it down.
“I was right,” you said instead. “Still as beautiful as ever, Munson. Truly, it’s a little unfair.”
“I-I think that’s my line, sweetheart,” he scoffed, but a small smile tugged at his lips, so shy and endearing that you had to crawl up his body again to kiss him.
Eddie opened his mouth to your tongue, groaning when your naked body brushed against his. For a second, you were worried you’d hurt him, but then his kiss turned more bruising, and one of his hands came up to grope your breasts, tweaking at your nipple and causing you to groan this time.
“S-Shit, how are you so goddamn soft everywhere?” he gasped against your lips. “My hands must feel like f-fucking sandpaper.”
“No,” you moaned as your pressed into his left hand, his rings cold against the hot flesh of your breast. “Your hands feel s-so good… but stop distracting me, Munson.”
You pulled back and pouted at him, and before he could stop you, you started kissing your way down his neck again. This time, you didn’t stop at his collarbones, and you hovered over him reverently as you oh so softly dragged your lips over his scars.
“So handsome,” you muttered, pressing a kiss to his sternum. “So fucking handsome, baby. Love you so much. Every bit of you.”
“Fuck, O-Obi,” Eddie whimpered above you, and you felt him buck his hips.
You didn’t want to torture or overstimulate him too much, so you continued down his torso, pausing only briefly to dip your tongue into his bellybutton and run it across his happy trail. When you got to the buckle of his belt, you glanced up at him, finding him staring back at you with eyes as wild as his hair.
“Is it okay if I keep going?” you asked as you reached for his belt.
Eddie bobbed his head sporadically but then seemed to swallow and find his words. “Yes. Christ, yes, please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely, pretty boy,” you parroted his earlier words back at him. It was supposed to be a joke, but you saw the breath hitch in his chest, and you felt his cock twitch beneath your fingers.
Oh. He seemed to like a little praise. This knowledge made you throb, and you filed it away to use later.
Instead, you focused your attention on opening his belt and jeans, and you immediately started working both his pants and boxers down his thighs. Eddie lifted his hips to help you, and after a brief tug, his cock sprang out and slapped against his belly, causing him to moan.
You quickly shoved the rest of his clothes down his legs, and Eddie kicked them off before you knelt in the V between his thighs.
“Christ,” you breathed. It was one of Eddie’s favorite words, and it was the only thing you could think of as you stared at his straining cock.
You admittedly hadn’t seen many dicks in your life, but his was by far the prettiest. Were dicks supposed to be pretty? Because his sure was. It stretched out maybe seven inches, arching towards his belly button, and the girth of it made saliva pool in your mouth. At the base sat a bush of dark brown curls even more wild than the hair on his head, and at the tip was a little mushroom cap, beading with pearly fluid.
“I-Is that a good, um, Christ?” Eddie asked nervously.
Instead of answering, you leaned down and licked up the underside of his cock, pausing at the tip to lap at his precum, and Eddie cried out, his hips leaping off the bed.
“Mmmm, you taste as good as you look, Munson,” you sighed and licked your lips. Then you shifted, positioning yourself flat on your stomach between his legs, your own kicking up into the air behind you. Eddie’s thighs tensed when you slid your hands across them, one snaking further up his pelvis to grip the base of his cock and tilt it toward you.
“Ohhhh, son of a—” Eddie whimpered as his shaft throbbed in your hand. It was warm, and softer than you imagined, and you couldn’t stop yourself from sticking out your tongue and swirling it around his head.
“I’m not exactly an expert at this, either,” you confessed, feathering a kiss under his mushroom shaped head. “So tell me if you do or don’t like something.”
“Obi,” he gritted out with his head pressed back into the pillows and his eyes tightly shut. “I can’t even fuckin’ look at you right now because I’m on the edge of losing my absolute shit. Y-You could probably just sit there like that for a minute, and it would be enough.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” You smirked, feeling high off the power you held over this man. And from the weed, too, if you were being honest.
Then, before he could say a single thing in retort, you fitted your lips over the head of his cock and sunk halfway down.
Eddie wordlessly shouted as he thrashed, and you had to use one of your hands to press his hips back into the mattress. The other you used to grip the base of his shaft, and you pumped softly as you swirled your tongue around the portion in your mouth. His skin tasted a little salty but clean, and the smell of him was more pungent here, muskier. It drove you a little crazy, and you felt drool dripping past your lips as you slowly started to bob your head.
“Fuckkkkk, Obi, holy shit, t-that feels—” Eddie broke off with a whine, and suddenly his fingers were tangling in your hair. He didn’t push your head down, though, just held you there as he twitched his hips upward, his shaft throbbing against your tongue.
After letting him shallowly thrust for a minute, you pulled back until his head popped free of your mouth, but you didn’t go far, pressing kisses to his tip and using the saliva running down his shaft to lubricate your still-pumping hand.
“God, you’re so hard, Eddie,” you muttered absently, feeling him throb between your fingers. “Does this feel good?”
“Ohhh, so good, so fucking good, you have no idea how good,” he babbled as his fingers scratched pleasantly against your scalp.
“Hmmm, excellent,” you hummed and licked at his leaking head like a lollipop. “Because I want to make you feel as incredible as you made me feel.”
“Fuck, baby, you’re already— AHH!” he cried out, voice cracking, as you suddenly took him in your mouth again and deepthroated him.
You gagged a little, eyes stinging, as he hit the back of your mouth, but your breathed in through your nose and swallowed, feeling the walls of your throat cinch around the head of his cock.
“Shit!” Eddie’s voice rose an octave, taking on a panicked pitch, and then he was suddenly, frantically, yanking at your hair. “F-Fuck, Obi! Stop, shit, stopstopstop!”
You immediately pulled your head back, his dick sliding out of your lips with a wet slurp. Your breathing was ragged as your looked up to find him in a half-seated position, his face contorted and eyes closed, and your stomach immediately churned.
“A-Are you okay?” you rasped, your voice hoarse but concerned. “Fuck, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You used your arms to push yourself up and away from his pelvis, until you were kneeling again between his thighs. Eddie panted as he slowly collapsed back onto your pillows, and one of his hands came up to push the damp bangs out of his face while the other flopped across his hips.
“Eddie?” you prompted when he didn’t answer, and finally he cracked open a single eye and tilted his head to look at you.
“You… didn’t hurt me,” he muttered, and he still sounded a little breathless. “I just— fuck, that felt so good, sweetheart. Too good. I, um, almost… ya know, i-in your mouth.”
“Oh.” You smiled, your concern melting away as your desire reignited. “You could have, you know. That was kind of the goal, Munson.”
Eddie exhaled shakily, and you saw his dick twitch where it laid against his stomach, still red and slick with your spit.
“Jesus Christ, don’t say stuff like that, Obi,” he breathed, and he reached down to squeeze the base of his cock. “I-I don’t want to… finish… in your mouth. This time.”
The ‘this time’ made the heat in your gut travel up into your chest, and your smile widened at the implication that he planned to do this again. Because you wanted to do it over and over, for the rest of forever. Until you got sick of it, though you didn’t think that was possible.
You’d only gotten a taste, and yet you knew you were quickly becoming addicted to Eddie Munson.
“Oh, really?” you asked with a smirk, slinking up his body until you were straddling his lap. Your pussy hovered right over his cock, but you stayed hovering above him as you met his glassy gaze. “Where do you want to finish then, Munson? What do you want?”
Eddie’s hands settled against your hips, and his eyes were wide as he gazed up at you with naked adoration etched across his face.
“I-Inside,” he stuttered and then swallowed as his fingers tightened around your hips. “God, Obi, I want to be inside you so fuckin’ bad, I— t-there’s a condom, in my jeans. Can I— let me grab it.”
“Since when have you started carrying around a condom in your pocket?” you teased.
“Since I started waking up every day with your ass pressed against my morning wood,” Eddie said, making your pussy throb, and he patted your naked thigh as he twitched beneath you. “Come on, let me up, it’ll only take a second.”
“Actually…” You bit your lip as you placed one of your hands on his sternum and gently pressed him back down into the bed. “I was thinking… y-you’re clean, since you’ve never, um, been with anyone. And I’ve only, uh, d-done this once, and I’ve been tested since then. Also, I’ve… been on birth control for years now, it helps to regulate my cyc— never mind. What I’m trying to say is we don’t need a condom… if that’s alright with you?”
You didn’t know where you found it in you to be embarrassed after everything you and Eddie had already done together, but your cheeks flushed with heat all the same. You were still hovering over Eddie’s lap, but that quickly changed when he suddenly lunged out and yanked you down onto his chest. You squeaked in surprise, barely able to catch yourself by bracing your hands on the bed beside his shoulders, but then Eddie was devouring your mouth, teeth and tongue and hands everywhere.
You moaned as his fingers skimmed up your sides, detouring to your breasts and nipples for a moment before they continued upwards to cup your face. His tongue swiped across yours one last time before he ripped himself away, and he panted against your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours.
“That’s… holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” he whimpered as he bucked up beneath you, and the brush of his bare dick on your wet folds punched a groan from your chest. “Obi, Christ, Obi, I need to be inside you. Fuck, please, I just— I’m gonna die if I’m not inside you in the next thirty seconds.”
“I already told you once, you’re not dying on me, Munson,” you said, snaking a hand down between your torsos to grasp the base of his cock.
Eddie whined again at your touch, but it was nothing compared to the strangled sound he made when you notched the head of his dick against your dripping cunt. You sat up a little to get the angle right, but then you paused and smiled at the tense, panting man beneath you.
“Love you, Eddie. I love you so goddamn much.”
“Fuck, I love you, too, sweetheart, I— OH!”
He broke off with a shout as you pushed your hips down, popping the head of his dick past your entrance. The stinging stretch made your eyes roll back into your head, and a guttural groan echoed up your throat as your slowly sank down, inch by inch, onto his cock.
“S-Shit, Eddie,” you whined once you sat in the cradle of his pelvis. Your walls ached and fluttered as they tried to accommodate him, and it felt like he was lodged all the way up in your chest. The first and last guy you’d been with definitely hadn’t felt like this.
“Fuckkkk,” Eddie practically sobbed out, and his nails dug into the skin of your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. But he managed to lift his head from where he’d thrown it back into the pillows, and his hazy, unfocused eyes found yours. “Christ on a fucking crutch. A-Are you okay, Obi? You’re so goddamn tight.”
“It’s cuz you’re f-fucking big,” you shot back, your voice a little breathless as you gently settled your palms against his belly, careful to avoid the worst scars. The stretch of him inside you still ached a little bit, but it was beginning to fade, and you slowly rocked your hips against his.
You moaned at the dual sensation of him moving inside your pussy while his pubes tickled your clit, and Eddie cursed again as his fingers clamped down around your waist.
“Wait, s-stop, stop,” he suddenly hissed, and you froze above him, lifting your hands off his stomach.
“Sorry, did I—” you started to ask, but Eddie quickly shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
“No, you just feel too goddamn good. Again.” Eddie laughed shakily before he took a deep breath and let it out slow. Then he opened his eyes, and he smiled up at you sheepishly. “Sorry. You’re just… so fuckin’ beautiful, and I’m on a virgin hair trigger here, and—”
“Eddie, it’s okay,” you cut him off with a smile, reaching down to pry one of his hands off your hips so you could press a kiss to his fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. Do you feel good right now?”
“Good doesn’t even fuckin’ scratch the surface, sweetheart,” he breathed out, and when you released his hand, it immediately fell to one of your breasts, brushing over your nipple. “This is quite literally the best goddamn day of my life. Don’t know how it could get better from here.”
“I think I have an idea.” You smirked before you leaned down and slanted your mouth over his, rolling your hips in the process.
Eddie’s groan was muffled by your tongue, and you whimpered along with him as you lifted a few inches up his shaft before sitting right back down. You swirled your hips with him rooted deep inside you, and his hands ghosted up your spine, pressing you against him.
The two of you rocked together as you kissed, but you needed air eventually, so you tore your lips away, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder as you gasped for breath.
With his lips free, Eddie took to babbling, and every word out of his mouth just made you drip and clench around his cock.
“O-Oh, fuck, baby, you feel sooo good, so goddamn good. So wet and-- Fuck! Squeezing me so tightly. Christ, you’re driving me insane, I can’t even t-think. My brain is on fucking fire-- god! Obi. S-Shit, Obi, w-wait. I’m sorry, wait, waitwait.”
You froze midroll and whimpered as his cock brushed that special spot inside you. Eddie panted as he clutched you to him, but after a moment, he slowly relaxed into the sheets, and you carefully propped yourself up on your hands.
“Sorry,” Eddie muttered as he blinked up at you.
“I told you, you have nothing to apologize for,” you reminded him with a smile, but he still looked so contrite, so you clenched around him, rising up a little and sinking back down so he could hear the wet noises coming from between your bodies. “Hear that? That’s because you turn me on so much, Ed. You’re the one making me so wet. I could probably just sit here on your cock and cum without either of us moving. That’s how good you feel inside me.”
“Goddamn it, Obi,” he gritted out as he clenched his eyes shut again, his hands clutching at the top of your thighs. “I’m trying not to cum here, and you’re not helping.”
“But I want you to cum,” you said, sitting up fully and starting to rock on his cock again. From this angle, you could almost feel him in the back of your throat, and you tossed your head back as you settled your palms against his belly and rode him in slow but deep movements. “I, ah, want you to cum deep inside me, pretty boy. Want— fuck, want to feel it.”
“Oh, shit,” Eddie hissed and bared his teeth. Then his hands wrapped around your hips again, guiding you a little bit faster. “S-Shit. I— Can you cum again? Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Fuck, I want that so bad. What can I do?”
“Touch me,” you gasped. The coil in your gut was tightening again, wound tighter and tighter by the insistent press of his cock deep inside you.
“Y-Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” he groaned, shifting his left hand from your hip, and the cold bite of his metal rings against your heated and swollen clit made you cry out.
“Eddie!” You jolted further up his cock than you had been, and you were so slick that you just slid right back down, your ass meeting his pelvis with a wet slap. The head of his cock knocked against something inside you that made you see stars, and suddenly you were bouncing on his dick, rapid and wild, your eyes rolling back into your head.
“Fuck! Oh, god, oh, Christ, O-Obi, Obi, I’m— shit, I’m cumming.” Eddie’s voice rose into a high-pitched whine, his fingers and rings blindly bumping against your clit, his hips bucking off the bed to meet yours. “I’m cumming, fuck, cum with me, cum with me, baby, please!”
“Yes, cum inside me!” you sobbed as he snapped his hips up into yours, and your third orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. “Eddie!”
You felt his cock thob in the tight clutch of your walls moments before you were filled with the warmth of his cum, and the sensation heightened your own climax. Your whole body spasmed, lightning in every nerve, and you only distantly felt Eddie tug you down onto his chest, his tongue invading your mouth, his sobs and curses muffled by your lips.
The two of you rolled and writhed against each other as you rode out your climaxes, but eventually your thighs burned too much, so you just collapsed limp on Eddie’s chest while he thrust up into you a few more times. You whimpered from oversensitivity and the aftershocks of your orgasm, and your brain felt like slush between your ears when Eddie finally gasped, shuddered, and stilled beneath you.
A long moment stretched by in silence as you both caught your breath and returned to your bodies, but Eddie was the first to stir, his hand feathering up your spine. It tickled slightly, so you involuntarily clenched, and then you both groaned as you tightened around his softening cock.
“Fuckkkkkk.” Eddie laughed, his chest rumbling beneath you, and his palm pressed flat between your shoulder blades. “That was… holy shit. I… I think I might have died. I think this might actually be heaven.”
“Why do you keep trying to die on me?” you grumbled as you lifted your head off his shoulder and pouted at him.
“’M not trying to, baby.” Eddie smiled and cupped your cheek, but then he bit his lip, his dark-brown eyes searching your face. “Was that… okay… for you?”
You blinked at him. And then again. “Munson. Did you not just make me cum three times?”
He blushed, but his smile was equal parts sheepish and proud. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Damn right you did,” you sighed, wincing as a cramp started up in your thigh. “But, um, I need to… dismount now. Leg cramp.”
“Oh, shit, yeah, let me—” Eddie paused and glanced down at where you were still connected, and then his eyes darted from side to side, searching. “My shirt, I—”
“Too slow,” you groaned, and you pulled up without warning.
His half flaccid cock slid out of you with a wet sound, and both of you whined. You could feel something start to trickle out of you and onto your inner thigh, but you just flopped onto your back, Eddie scooting over to make room for you against the headboard.
“Sorry,” you hissed as you stretched your legs out, pointing your toes. “Couldn’t wait. Damn Charlie horse.”
“Want me to rub it?” Eddie asked, and he shifted partially onto his side next to you.
“No, it’s fading, I’m okay,” you sighed, relaxing into the bed and turning your head to look at him. But he wasn’t looking at you. No, his eyes were glued to the inside of your thighs, and when you followed his gaze, you blushed. Your skin was wet, glistening in the light of the bed side lamp, and you could feel more wetness seeping out of you and onto the covers.
Oh, well. You needed to wash the sheets anyway. Thankfully, you had spares for tonight.
“Eddie,” you muttered when he just kept staring, and you tried to close your legs, but he suddenly reached out and stopped you, his fingertips pressing into the tacky skin of your thighs.
“No, wait… can I…” He trailed off as he glanced at you, and you wanted to tell him no, were already squirming with embarrassment, but you found yourself nodding yes.
Yes to whatever he wanted.
Eddie smiled before he scootched down the bed a little, and then he was pressing your thighs open, his fingers brushing against your sopping folds and spreading them apart.
“Fuck,” he breathed as he gaped at your swollen pussy, and you moaned, walls fluttering, pushing out another glob of his cum. “Goddamn, you look…”
He trailed off again, and you felt his thumb swipe up your slit, collecting his cum, before he slotted it back inside you.
“Ah!” you gasped, the sound transforming into a moan and then a whimper. You closed your thighs around his wrist and arched your back, trying to scoot away. “Eddie, s-sensitive.”
“Oops, sorry.” He immediately withdrew his thumb, but he paused a moment to inspect the slick glint of your combined juices on his skin.
You reached for his hand without thinking, meeting his wide eyes as you pulled his thumb to your mouth. Gently, you wrapped your lips around him, swiping your tongue over the pad of his digit. The taste was salty and tangy but not bad, and your eyelashes fluttered a little as you hollowed your cheeks.
When you released him, Eddie exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath, and then he was swooping down to kiss you again. His tongue stabbed into your mouth, chasing the remnants of your combined flavors, and you moaned as you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down to lie half on top of you.
“Whoa,” Eddie laughed against your lips. Then he pulled away to stabilize himself so he didn’t fall off the bed or crush you. “Careful there, Obi. I might trip, fall, and end up with my dick inside you again.”
You giggled at the corny joke and pecked another kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
“You are so evil,” Eddie groaned as he wrapped his arms around you, trapping your own against his chest. “Evil, evil Obi.”
“Muhahaha,” you murmured sleepily, settling against him. But then your eyes fluttered open, and you saw the scars inches away from your nose. Tentatively, you traced your fingertips down the pink, ropy tissue, and when Eddie tensed slightly, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the remnants of his spider tattoo. “I didn’t hurt you, though, did I?”
“Princess, what you made me feel was the opposite of pain,” Eddie sighed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You made me feel… fucking fantastic. Is it weird if I thank you? Because I feel like I should thank you. You know what, I’m doing it. Thank you, Obi. Thank you for rocking my goddamn world.”
“You’re welcome.” Giggling, you pressed another kiss to another scar. “And thank you, Munson. I… I love you.”
“Fuck, I love you, too,” he breathed as he placed his fingers under your chin and tilted your face up. His lips brushed over your so sweetly, and his opposite hand traced idle patterns against the bare skin of your back.
When he pulled back, he was smiling that smile you loved so much— the one that crinkled the lines around his eyes and made his dimples stand out— and there was a hint of mischief in his chocolate brown eyes.
“Now, what do you say to us rolling another joint, raiding your kitchen, and going round two?” Eddie smirked.
“I think…” you said with a smile, tickling your fingers against his chest until he giggled and pulled back. “That you better hurry up and get rolling, Munson.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and smacked another kiss against your lips before clambering out of bed.
You laughed at his overexaggerated hurried pace, the way he kept glancing at the clock on your nightstand with increasing faux-worry. He somehow managed to roll another joint without spilling anything, and you felt your breath hitch a little as you watched him lick it closed.
Yeah, you were definitely addicted to Eddie Munson now.
But you didn’t really see the problem with that.
#eddie munson#eddie munson/you#eddie munson x you#eddie munson/reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson/f!reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson/female reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson/fem!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fix it fic#eddie munson survives#fanfic#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#my writings
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Someone help me find a Steddie fic
It goes like, everyone survives post season 4 volume 2,the first chapter goes like Steve waking up in the hospital after the fight and shit,and the nurses tell him Eddie is in critical condition and may need surgery again,and Steve is just waiting outside of Eddie’s hospital room? I only read up to that part lmao
It’s on Archives of our own.
#stranger things#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie angst#steddie fluff#Eddie Munson survives#ao3 fanfic#ao3#help me please
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controversial eddie munson opinion, but tbh i think eddie has not the slightest fucking clue about hanky code; he wears a bandanna in his back pocket because james hetfield did it, because 80s metal aesthetics were playing a game of telephone with the gay leather scene courtesy of rob halford and a huge chunk of their fans had no clue
#stranger things#eddie munson#i mean i think he figures it out pretty quick in a universe where he survives high school and moves to a city#but eddie munson age 19-maybe-20 in the year 1986 in rural indiana? he has no idea
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Steve is covered in scars; mementos of the horrors he'd seen and the determination to not just survive, but to protect.
There's the petaled bite mark on his left leg from that horrible night in the junkyard in '84; Steve's incredibly proud of that scar, and so are the three kids he'd kept safe that night.
Then he has the starburst scars across his ribcage and an uneven jawline from that night underneath Starcourt. He wears those with pride, because Robin doesn't have a mark on her from that.
His chest is littered with bite scars, and a long, jagged scar around his neck from those hellish bats. He also had a thin, raised line that split his eyebrow on the left side.
Every one of the scars littering the ex-jock's body is a badge of honor to him, and each of his kids seem to see these scars as a testament to a person's ability to change.
Steve loves his scars, so this new one stretching from his left shoulder to his right hip is going to be a huge hit, once it's healed, Eddie is sure of it.
If only Steve would wake up.
#steve harrington#steddie#eddie munson#i had a dream#and it was this#what if steve survived everything only for a car accident to kill him
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Steve never turns the heater on in his car when he's alone. This is something Eddie picks up on fairly quickly, as summer turns to autumn, as the air cools down. The mornings are icy, now. There's a bite to each and every breath that you can suck in almost like smoke, and it's pleasant for all of two seconds before it chills you to the bone.
The first time he notices it, there's so much noise in the car that Eddie doesn't get a chance to say anything - Dustin is chattering on to Mike about god-knows-what. Instead, he just watches from the passenger seat as Steve clocks Will's chattering teeth in the rearview mirror and immediately reaches forward to crank up the dial.
The second time, it's just Steve and Eddie, and they're driving back from dropping Eddie's van off at the mechanics. Steve meets him outside the shop at a crisp 7am, and it's fucking freezing, honestly. Eddie slides into the passenger seat and winces at the way his breaths come out in a cloud.
"Shit, dude," he groans, "aren't you cold?"
Steve shrugs, focused on driving. "A bit, I guess. Help yourself." He waves at the AC settings carelessly.
How the fuck are you not freezing your balls off? Eddie wonders, but he doesn't voice the thought aloud, though he very much wants to. There's something here, he thinks. There's something I'm not getting.
The third time it happens, Eddie doesn't even need to get in the car to know Steve didn't switch the heating on. He knows this because when Steve saunters into the new trailer, a 6-pack in hand, his lips are almost blue. He's wearing a too-thin jacket, undone over a plain shirt. Eddie frowns.
"Jesus Christ, Steve," he murmurs, immediately rushing through to his room to grab a sweater. He throws it at Steve when he gets back out to the main room, chewing at the inside of his cheek.
"What's this for?"
"Because you're fucking freezing, man. Are you kidding me? You're turning to ice right in front of me, look at you." And it's so wrong that Steve looks so confused. It's so wrong. Because he's so clearly cold as hell. It looks painful, damn it, the way his hands are shaking, the way he can't quite move his fingers properly when he goes to pop the cap off of his beer. I am going to take care of you until you figure out how to take care of yourself, Eddie thinks, fierce and determined. And he does.
When Steve leaves that night, after the movie, Eddie makes him keep the black knit sweater on, makes him take it with him. "You look cute," he grins, aiming for playful, aiming for the misdirect. He likes the way it makes Steve blush, anyway. It's a win-win.
Eddie follows close behind Steve down the steps of the trailer, catching the driver's door with a quick hand before it can slam closed. He waits for Steve to start the car before getting to work.
"What're you-" Steve begins, falling silent as Eddie leans over him and switches the heating on.
"You," he mutters, pulling back, tapping a finger on Steve's forehead. "You keep that on until you get home, you hear me, big boy?"
Steve looks bewildered, but nods anyway.
Eddie starts bringing an extra jacket or sweater with him everywhere, after that, and it comes in handy more times than he'd like. He wishes it wasn't the only way to get Steve into his clothes.
He buys Steve a hot water bottle with a cover that's the same yellow as that sweater that he loves so much. Eddie gets into the habit of calling Steve each night, and before he hangs up, he tells Steve to fill it up. Tells Steve to use it. He checks Steve's bed one day, pulls back the duvet a bit, and can't help but beam when he sees the hot water bottle tucked there. When he presses a hand to it, it's still warm.
One day, nearing Christmas, now, Eddie slides into the passenger seat of Steve's car, and the heater is already on, car toasty and warm. His cheeks dimple when he sees that Steve is already wearing Eddie's own black knit sweater; His smile only widens further as Steve comments, "Fucking freezing today, man. When did it get so cold?"
Eddie just chokes out a laugh and throws the spare jacket he'd brought with him onto the back seat.
He has to turn his head to look out the window so Steve can't see the proud tears in his eyes.
#thinking about how childhood neglect can result in not knowing how to do things for comfort#how you can adjust solely to just surviving#thinking about eddie noticing this in steve and feeling protective about it but also not wanting to overstep boundaries with his new friend#by friend i mean crush#steddie#headcanon#steve harrington#eddie munson#isbuckybarnesokay
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Something about famous rockstar Eddie who takes the love of his life Steve on tours with him. He is the band wife™️. And something something they have a kid and now Steve is still there but with a baby attached to his hip.
And like at the end of one show when the band has played their sets and is saying their thanks and goodbyes to the audience, Eddie brings the kid to the stage with him and gets them to wave goodbye to the people. You know, the cute way babies say bye bye.
Just something about him singing/playing some loud, aggressive music and then the next moment being all “look at my cute baby”
You know. Something.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#how to tell your period is close: all the cute baby headcanons pop up#injecting tooth rotting fluff to my veins because I need it to survive
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'Come on, Munson. Keep those feet moving.'
'Trying my best, Big Guy.'
'Dustin will never forgive me if I don't get you home.'
'Tell Dustin...Mordor sucks.'
#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things art#steve x eddie#stranger things spoilers#eddie survives#this is how it happens in the show#nothing else happened#nope#steve and eddie both crash out after in the RV#which i must draw#my fanart#steve is sam to eddies frodo#think i messed this up D:
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Will solos ur favs
#im still thinking abt this#HOW DID HE DO IT#whats his seret#secret#byler#yh this isnt byler yh im tagging it so more ppl see this genius meme#will byers#my baby BOY#listen#how did eddie nancy robin and steve all cringe fail so hard ??#if will managed to survive....#HE HAS POWERS#will centric s5 im so excited#eddie munson#steve harrington#nancy wheeler#robin buckley
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#🤡🤡🤡
#strangerthingsedit#stranger things#tvstrangerthings#dailystrangerthings#eddie munson#userksusha#userbbelcher#chewieblog#useroptional#dailyflicks#tvandfilm#filmtv#televisiongifs#myedit#stranger things spoilers#babycakes please just survive#it would be enough
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this fandom is so mean sometimes when it comes to even the most basic of fandom shit like. i get it, ST is relatively mainstream, a lot of yall have never been in fandoms before, but the stuff folks call out as "cringe" behavior (or worse) in fandom is quite literally stuff that has always been a part of fandom and always will. people cosplaying, kinning characters, shipping characters who have barely spoken in canon, going to nerdy conventions, overanalyzing every scene w/ ur fave character in it, crying over characters, writing fanfiction and making art of whatever the fuck you want since you're doing it for free and for fun... this is fandom culture. if you dont like it you don't have to engage with it and its so easy to block/not interact with content you don't like.
tldr; stop bullying fans for doing fan things.
#stranger things#byler#fandom#fandom discourse#discourse#yall wouldnt have survived the spn fandom and yall certainly wouldnt have survived tumblr 5 years ago#this is not about any One thing in particular its just about everything#have been noticing over the months and its tiring!#anyway eddie munson stans i dont understand you but i hope you're having a great day#eddie munson#steddie#this fandom makes me sad sometimes /gen#tldr if yall werent active during the height of superwholock i dont wanna hear you calling shit cringe#1k+
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#joseph quinn#joe quinn#eddie munson#jq#stranger things#stranger things 4#in an alternate universe where eddie survives
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“You have to keep stirring until it’s thin, like soup.”
Steve had said this four times.
Eddie wanted a divorce.
They weren’t legally married, but he’d like to find a way to end it before it began.
“I’ve been stirring it for six minutes. It’s not getting thinner.”
“That’s impossible. Let me try.”
Steve was the chef. Eddie knew it, Steve knew it, everyone knew it. He was good at cooking. Not just following recipes, but actually throwing together ingredients from scratch and making something not only edible, but delicious.
But Steve was going away for a week with Robin. Something about a long overdue road trip that they were supposed to take before she went to college.
Eddie had every intention of just living off of takeout and the sympathy of Joyce and Claudia while he was gone, but Steve insisted that he had to know how to at least make a few things.
Steve seemed to think he could make a glaze for the baked chicken currently in the oven. The same baked chicken he’d almost burned because he thought he could put it in on broil instead of baked. He was really THAT hopeless.
But Steve was determined and when Steve was like this, he had no choice but to go along with it.
Steve was stirring, frown becoming more prominent the longer he tried.
“Something isn’t right. Did you put the lemon juice in?”
“You watched me put it in.”
“And the jelly was completely cooked down before you turned down the heat?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Steve.” Eddie placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders from behind him, shaking him slightly. “I can just eat pizza. Or sandwiches. Cereal. Joyce is having me over for spaghetti one night, I’m sure there will be leftovers. I won’t starve.”
“But you need to know how to take care of yourself!”
Warning sirens were going off in Eddie’s head. He’d been alone for a couple of days before and everything was fine. He’d made some macaroni, ate his weight in toast, it was great. He survived.
He even ate an apple!
So he could do it if he had to.
“What’s going on in that head, big boy?”
“Nothing. It’s just that Wayne didn’t have time to show you this stuff and you need to know.”
“I can make it a week, Stevie.”
“What if you have to make it longer?”
“Are you planning on running away? Going into hiding?”
He could tell Steve was rolling his eyes without even seeing his face.
“No. But what if I’m not always around?”
Eddie’s gut clenched. Steve must be sick. Or maybe he has a feeling that somehow the Upside Down is open and ready to ruin their lives again.
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
“I mean anything can happen. What if we get in an accident and I don’t make it?”
“Woah.” Eddie turned Steve around and held onto his hips, fingers probably leaving bruises on his skin. “Where is this coming from?”
Steve shrugged and looked down at the floor.
“Robin has anxiety about it doesn’t she?”
Steve nodded.
Ah.
Robin didn’t intentionally shove her anxieties onto Steve, and she didn’t realize he felt them so strongly when she did. She was a worrier, always thinking about the worst case scenario and then somehow making it worse in her mind.
Eddie didn’t really let it bother him until it affected Steve.
“Sweetheart, nothings gonna happen. You’ve changed the oil and checked the tires. You’ve packed every possible thing you could need in any emergency. You have a cup of change for pay phones if you need to use them. You’ve got every stop picked out and we’ll know where you are the whole time.”
“But none of that helps if I’m in an accident.”
“No. You’re right. It doesn’t. But what are the odds of that happening really?”
Steve was silent.
Eddie cupped his face between his palms, leaning forward to kiss him gently.
“It’s okay to be nervous, Stevie. But you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of myself without having to know how to make a glaze for a baked chicken. Do you really think I’m gonna waste an hour of my evening making this decadent dinner for myself? Or do you think I’ll make a sandwich and eat a bag of chips while I read a book?”
“I know.”
“I know you know. So let’s just trash the glaze, dip the chicken in some ketchup, and fuck around until we fall asleep. I’m gonna miss you for a whole week.”
Eddie’s hands slid around him to cup Steve’s ass and give it a squeeze. Steve smirked up at him as he let himself fall into Eddie.
“We could just go right to dessert?”
“Are you the dessert or am I?”
“I’m the cake and you’re the ice cream.”
“We better hurry then before the ice cream melts.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughed as Eddie pulled him from the kitchen to the stairs.
“I’m hungry, let’s go!”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#tumblr drabbles#domestic fluff#I just think the rumors about Eddie not being able to cook are true#he can survive if he has to but it won’t be anything good#Steve having anxiety about ridiculous things thanks Robin
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prophetic nightmares of the dead (steddie)
Eddie’s been dreaming of dying.
It started his first round of senior year, some kind of prophetic fuck-up from his brain. No one knows except Wayne. Wayne gets it, kinda, from his time in ‘Nam. Knows how vivid nightmares can get, knows all the tricks to waking up and remembering you’re alive.
“It’s that damn music,” he mutters to make Eddie laugh through tears, after Eddie’s woken him up again with his shrieking and stumbling out of his room. “Or that game. Your imagination is vivid enough without you feeding it, boy.”
“You’re right,” Eddie responds unsteadily. “No more of that devil shit for me. I’m going on the straight and narrow. From now on it’ll be…fucking church hymns and songs about the Lord.”
Wayne hums in absent agreement, still rubbing Eddie’s back. The glass of cold water sits heavy in his hands. He takes a drink.
It was practically routine.
He got better at waking up silently, at not running to his uncle after the fourth, seventh, twentieth nightmare in a row. Avoided sleeping at all, showed up to school with bags under his eyes and cranky as all hell. His grades dropped lower than ever, Wayne got more and more concerned, and Eddie kept dying every night.
The Queen of Hawkins High wasn’t the person he was expecting to understand his predicament.
“Do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind?”
“Um, you know, just... on a daily basis.” He smiles, tries to make her laugh. Every day until I get out of this damned town.
Slowly, he wheedles it out of her.
“I keep having these dreams,” she admits. “Nightmares. Every night, for years. It’s always…it’s always the same.”
A chill goes down his spine.
“I’m sorry, I sound crazy.”
“No, no, no,” he scrambles to reassure her. “Keep going, it’s okay. Safe space, right? It’s just me, you, and the trees here.”
She nods, unsteady. “There’s…a monster. And he…he’s after me. And when he catches me, I always…the dream always ends with me…” She raises a trembling hand to her eyes, not bothering to wipe away her tears. Almost like she’s checking if they’re still there.
His blood runs cold.
“Dying,” he whispers. Chrissy lets out a sob. “Every night, since ‘83, you’ve dreamed of dying.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because it’s me, too, Chrissy.” He jumps up, pacing in circles. “I…every single night, since that Byers kid went missing. It’s not the same as yours but this is…this is fucking crazy, what are the odds—oof!”
Chrissy has barreled into his chest, clinging to him with her arms around his neck. He can feel the collar of his t-shirt getting damp.
“Uh,” he stammers as she sniffles into his shirt. His hands hover around her, not sure what to do until he settles them around her back. “There, there?” He tries to soothe. It’s not very soothing, with the way his voice shakes. “It’s okay.”
“Something’s wrong with me,” she gasps. “It’s following me. I keep seeing things when I’m awake, my mother and a clock and a monster—“
“Shit,” he says, a sinking feeling in his chest. He’s not exactly superstitious, but he has a feeling there’s more to this than dreams. “Hey, listen, Chrissy, you’re gonna be okay. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
She just shakes her head, burrows in closer like she can worm into his skin if she tries hard enough. He’s never been hugged like this in his life, and he has no idea what to do with the scared teenager in his arms.
“Here, hold on,” he says, and carefully removes her arms from his neck. She wipes her eyes, looking away.
“I’m sorry, I just…”
“No, no, it’s cool,” he says. “Promise. I just wanted to give you this.”
Fumbling, he drapes his leather jacket over her shoulders. Her cheerleading jacket can’t be very warm, especially combined with the skirt she’s wearing.
She pulls it tight around herself, even though it probably sticks like weed and cigarettes and Eddie’s BO. He’s a little too preoccupied to be embarrassed about that right now, though.
The bell rings, signaling the end of class. Chrissy startles like a scared rabbit, dread coloring her whole face, and Eddie makes a decision.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Looks like Hellfire’s getting postponed after all.
They make a stop at Family Video, partially to rent a movie or two, but mainly because Henderson never shuts up about Steve fucking Harrington so now Eddie knows exactly where he works. Why the little rich boy is working a dead end job with Keith as his manager is a mystery, but it’s not one he’s interested in uncovering. Hopefully he’s on shift today.
All of Eddie’s shit luck must have worked to make the stars align, because there he is at the counter, in all his ex-kingly glory. He doesn’t look up as the bell rings, apparently focused on whatever he has in hand.
“Welcome to Family Video,” he calls, chewing on a pen. “Let me know if you need help finding anything.”
“Is that Blue Jeans?” Eddie asks, walking up to the counter as Chrissy goes to look through the shelves. Harrington jumps, slamming the magazine shut.
“Hi, what can I get you—Munson?”
“Harrington,” he grins, reveling in the frown he gets in response. Harrington meets his eyes for one startled second before his gaze travels down to his Hellfire shirt, over his vest and bare forearms, and taking in the belt and ripped jeans. Eddie smiles wider. He oh so loves intimidating the jocks and moral majority of this town.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Harrington finally asks, eyes jumping back up to meet his gaze.
“That’s actually why I’m here, I need you to pass on a message for me. We’re skipping, and—“
“We?”
“Hey Eddie,” Chrissy says, appearing behind him. She lays three movies on the counter. “I picked some out, I hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah, yeah, ‘course,” he says as Harrington’s eyebrows jut up. Chrissy is still wearing his jacket, and he realizes exactly what this looks like. Shit, is Harrington friends with Carver? They probably have some jock bro code that’s totally going to end in Eddie getting beat up, shit—
“Hey Chrissy,” Harrington says agreeably. “Finally dump Carver?”
She blinks, startled at the insinuation. Her cheeks flush. “Oh, no—“
“It’s not like that,” Eddie breaks in, laughing to cover up the panic he feels. Trying to walk the delicate line between not a queer and not stealing a jock’s girlfriend. “Chrissy here just needs some company.”
Harrington nods, clearly not believing them.
“Seriously,” he presses. “I mean, can you really see a girl like her with a guy like me?”
Chrissy frowns, but Harrington looks him up and down again.
“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But it’s really none of my business, I don’t get paid to care who dates who.”
Eddie blinks. It almost sounds like Harrington was calling him hot or something.
Before he can figure out what Harrington actually meant, he starts scanning the tapes. He pauses on the last one, brow furrowing, before he looks between Eddie and Chrissy with understanding in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t know why the sudden change of heart.
“Rocky Horror Picture Show?”
Shit.
He has to clear his throat. “You have that here?”
They don’t. They shouldn’t. It’s not exactly small town video store material. Eddie had to go to Indianapolis to find it again, he knows damn well it’s not at Family Video in fucking Hawkins.
But the cover stares up at him anyway.
“I found it on one of the shelves,” Chrissy says. “It looked like it doesn’t get checked out a whole lot. Is it any good?”
Eddie braces himself for the slurs. For the bored retail worker to disappear and the Bible thumping, red blooded American to come out. It’s not Chrissy’s fault, she didn’t know any better, but if Harrington knows this movie and now he knows that Eddie knows this movie, there’s some bruises in his near future.
“It’s pretty good,” Harrington says easily. Eddie blinks his eyes open to see him smiling warmly at Chrissy, handing her the tapes. “For a, ah, certain type of people.
Well color him surprised. This is an interesting turn of events.
“I own it,” Eddie blurts out without meaning to. Harrington’s eyes snap to him, widening at the confession. “It’s, uh, hard to find, I had to go out of town for it. That’s why I was surprised.”
“Oh, I guess we don’t need to rent it, then,” Chrissy says, completely unaware of the staring contest that’s happening between him and Harrington.
Harrington looks away first. “Right,” he coughs, and goes to cancel it. Chrissy pulls cash out of her pocket.
“Oh, Chrissy, you don’t need to—“
“Don’t be dumb,” she says. “I picked the movies, I’m paying for them.”
He shrugs, unable to fight the logic in that. He’s not exactly in the mood to spend money right now, anyways, since he’s definitely giving her a discount on the drugs after this.
“What was it you needed me to do?” Harrington asks as he prints the receipt.
“What?”
“You said you had a message.”
“Right,” Eddie says. He completely forgot about that. “You’re going to the game tonight, right?”
“How did you know that?”
“Sinclair said you go to all his games.”
“He talks about me?”
“Dude, those kids never shut the fuck up about you,” Eddie says. “Makes me want to pull my hair out.”
“It’s mutual,” Harrington snorts, looking a bit touched. “Henderson already phoned me to ask to join the campaign, man, I’m not filling in—“
“He asked you?”
“Yeah? Wait, if this isn’t about that, then what is it?”
“Tell Henderson he got his wish,” Eddie says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m postponing the campaign.”
“Wait, really? Lucas is going to lose his mind, he was gonna be so bummed if he missed your nerd game—wait, why are you telling me?”
“‘Cause we’re ditching, Harrington, catch up.” Sinclair was excited for the end of his campaign? It makes him feel a little bit guilty, somewhere deep in his nonexistent soul. Oh, well. He’s postponing now.
“I’m going to wait in the car,” Chrissy says, and takes the tapes and Eddie’s keys with her.
“I see what this is,” Harrington says, leaning closer to Eddie and pillowing his chin on his hand. “You got them all riled up, and now you want them to shoot the messenger.”
“You caught me.” He grabs his chest, pretending to be shot. Then he leans forward with a grin. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
“Maybe I won’t tell them, make them wait for the entire time for you to show up. Henderson’ll do it, you know. Then who’ll be in trouble?”
Eddie laughs without meaning to. He doesn’t believe for a second that Harrington will do it, which surprises him. But it seems like Harrington is full of surprises this afternoon.
“So she really hasn’t broken up with him yet?”
“Huh?”
Harrington nods behind him, to where Chrissy is in the van. It seems like she’s playing music, nodding along with a small smile.
“I told you, man, we’re not—“
“That’s not what I meant, it’s just…” he grimaces. “She’s way too good for him. And she’s never seemed…you know. Happy.”
“Really? I’d have thought you and Carver would get along, you know, jock bonding or something.”
“The only jock I’m friends with these days is Sinclair, and he’s as much of a nerd as the rest of ‘em. Anyways, even if I was still on the team, it’s like…I dunno. He sounds like a preacher.”
“The devil knows scripture, too?”
“Something like that.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. How’d you two end up hanging out anyway?”
“Oh, you know,” Eddie says lightly. “Shared visions, strange dreams, things like that.”
He waits for Harrington to laugh it off, to roll his eyes and go back to his girly magazine. It doesn’t happen. If anything, Harrington grows sharp, gets a cutting edge Eddie’s never seen on him before. Not even for the time he spent as king, looking for peasants to push around.
“Visions? Did you see any weird dust, or animals? People acting weird? Or anything else like that?”
“What?” Eddie blinks, startled. “No? They’re just nightmares, dude.”
Actually, his dreams do involve weird looking animals. A bunch of ugly bats, with teeth that hurt. Whoever said you can’t feel pain in dreams was a fucking liar.
They’re not just nightmares, Eddie knows. At least, not for Chrissy. Not if she’s outright hallucinating. There’s something wrong with both of them, and Eddie’s of half a mind to just drive them both down to Pennhurst and get it over with. But that’s their business, and he’ll be damned if he tells King Steve Chrissy’s secrets. Even if he doesn’t seem that bad, now, out of the fluorescent lights of their school.
“Right, right, of course.” He laughs, dragging a hand down his face. “Sorry, I’m just…on edge, I guess. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Right,” he says again. “Well, have a good day, I guess. Tell Chrissy her tapes are due back in five days. And, uh, thank you for choosing Family Video.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Eddie says, feeling equally unsteady after the weird turn their conversation has taken. He heads for the door, only pausing when Harrington calls out.
“Oh, and, uh, Eddie?”
“What?” He pauses, one hand on the door.
“If anything…weird happens, let me know, all right?”
He has no idea what that means. “Don’t worry, Harrington,” he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder. “I live weird.”
When he gets back in the van, Chrissy studies him closely.
“What?”
“What did you and Steve have to talk about? I didn't know you were friends.”
“We’re not,” he snorts. “Me, friends with the King? Can you imagine? Nah, we share custody of some of the freshmen in Hellfire.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I feel like…” she trails off, biting her lip raw.
“Like what?” He encourages.
“You called me a queen. Does that mean we can’t be friends?”
“Uh…” Eddie says, stumbling a bit. He does want to be friends with Chrissy. Even without the fact that they’re probably going to end up at the same cell in the nuthouse, she’s sweet and quiet in a way that makes him want to ask if anyone’s ever told her she can be loud. Her eyes are big and sad, but he can see a smile glancing along the edges of her mouth when he looks at her. She’s clever, he’ll give her that. He’s been caught hook, line, and sinker. “No, I’d— I’d like that. To be friends with you.”
Her smile feels brighter than the sun.
“Then what’s so weird about being friends with Steve?” She asks, glancing towards the Family Video window. Harrington looks like he’s back to reading his magazine, but glances up like he can feel them watching him. Eddie looks away and starts the van.
“Well, for one thing, you’re not one of the assholes who called me names and pushed me and my friends around.”
Harrington’s not either, really. Too busy standing around and being self obsessed to bother. His friends did all the pushing around for him. Wouldn’t do to get his hands dirtied with the freak. The familiar bitterness rises in his chest, and he tries to push it down. Looks at Chrissy out of the corner of his eye as he pulls out of his parking spot.
Her smile has faded, and he could kick himself. “Jason is, though,” she says quietly.
“How long have you guys been dating, anyway?” He asks, eager to change the subject. He pulls out of the lot, all too ready to leave the video store and the man who resides in it behind.
“Three years.”
Eddie chokes, not expecting that answer in the least. “Three years?”
“We got together when we were fifteen,” she says, a grimace pulling at her mouth when he glances at her. Shit, maybe Harrington was right and there is trouble in paradise.
“How do you stand him?”
“He loves me,” she says. It’s not an answer.
“Yeah, but Chrissy, he’s like, a major dick.”
“He loves me,” she repeats. “He wants to go to college together. He wants to live in Hawkins, and have a pretty white wedding, and a job that pays and a wife that’s pretty and sweet and doesn’t have nightmares about dying every night. A wife that’s not crazy. And she’ll have his kids, all two and a half of them, and she’ll always smile and stay at home and never do anything with her life because she gave up all her dreams for him—“
He pulls onto the side of the road. “Jesus,” he breathes, twisting in his seat. “Chrissy. That’s not love.”
“He’s safe.” She looks at him imploringly, eyes wet. “I just have to make it until summer. He can have his pretty little girlfriend, his pretty little life. He can have whatever he wants. I just have to make it to summer.”
He swallows back bile. “What’s summer?”
She looks down. “I got an early admission. University of Chicago. I have scholarships. I’ll pack everything, and run away there, and I’ll never have to see him or my mom or anyone else in this fucking place ever again.”
“I used to hate Steve,” she whispers. “Even if he was nice to me, I used to…just wish he didn’t exist.”
“Shit, Chris, so did I. He was an asshole.”
She shakes her head. “No, because it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t because of that. I was just…jealous.”
“Of Harrington? I think everyone’s been jealous of him at some point.”
Her face screws up. “You don’t get it,” she says. “I didn’t want his house, or his money, or his car, I just wanted…”
“Him?”
“No!” She pulls her hair in front of face, looking at him desperately. “I wanted to be him, because he was…”
He really doesn’t know where this is going. “Because he was…?”
“Nancy,” she breathes with a sigh. “He had Nancy Wheeler, and she was pretty, and smart, and I…I wanted it to be me.”
Oh. Oh. Holy shit, Chrissy Cunningham is coming out to him on his ratty couch. He’s safe, she’d said about Jason, and he’d thought she was talking about all the other ways he was convenient, but… there’s safety in a shield. Easier to hide behind a boyfriend then have people asking questions you can’t answer. He’ll eat his shoes if Jason knows, but at least he’s good for something.
She’s turning pale. “I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I don’t know why I thought—“
“Woah, woah, woah,” he says, grasping her hand as she tries to flee. “Chrissy, I—Chrissy, wait. Me too, okay?”
She freezes. “You too?”
“Yeah, Chris, me too.”
“Like you had a crush on Nancy too?”
The look he gives her speaks volumes.
“Oh.” She settles back down on the couch, her too-thin wrist trembling in his grip. “Okay.”
“Okay?” He asks, just to make sure.
“Okay,” she says.
“Good.” He sighs, lets go of her hand to run his fingers through his hair. “So, Wheeler, huh?”
A flush blooms across her face.
Steve breaks the surface again, looking panicked, before being dragged back under.
Immediately it’s chaos.
“Steve?” Nancy calls, looking over the side of the boat frantically. “Steve?”
Robin jumps in.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie says, as something determined flashes over Nancy’s face. “Let’s think about this—“
She takes a deep breath and dives in after her.
“Shit!” He looks at Chrissy, eyes wide with dread. “We’re not going in there, are we?”
Sounds echo from the shore. Shit, the police.
They’ll probably die if they go down there. But if the cops find them, they’ll take Chrissy’s Walkman, and then she’ll definitely die.
He sees the same resolve settle over her face.
“This is crazy,” he mutters. “This is crazy! Dammit, dammit, dammit!”
She takes his hand. “On three?”
He lets out a hysterical laugh, gripping her hand tightly.
Chrissy counts to three.
They jump.
He spits blood. It dribbles down his chin, and Eddie follows it down, down, watches a few drops land on that glorious chest and thanks every god there is that he’s too scared for the frankly impressive boner that wants to form.
Chrissy elbows him.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“You’re drooling,” she whispers.
“Can you blame me?” He hisses back. “Look at him! That was some fucking Ozzy shit right there!”
She gives him a look.
He toes one of the dead bats by his foot. Ugly little fucker, with sharp teeth. It’s almost familiar.
He doesn’t get too far with that train of thought.
“Sense of humor still intact, that’s good.” She chuckles nervously. Then she shakes him.
“Ow, Rob!”
“You have to stop doing shit like this! ‘Hur, dur, I’m Steve, I’m going to go into the highly dangerous portal and get eaten by bats because I’m stupid—“
“I don’t sound like that!” He bats her hands away from his torso. “Also, you seem to be forgetting the part where I was dragged against my will.”
“You can’t take any more concussions, Steve!”
“No concussion,” he says, and takes her hands in his. She pauses to breathe. They look like they’re in their own little world, and something bitter twinges in Eddie’s chest. “No rabies, no concussion, I’m okay.”
“You’re definitely not,” Nancy says as she moves in to wrap his injuries. He grunts in pain.
“I’m fine,” he insists, and Eddie snorts. He gets a scathing look in return.
“We are not fine,” Eddie says. “We’re in some sort of hell dimension, shit, I…” he turns in a circle, finally taking in the world they’re in. Everything is grey and barren. Red lightning cracks across the sky.
It looks exactly like his dream.
He lets out a nervous laugh. “What the fuck,” he says. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—“
“Eddie?” Chrissy grabs his hand, and he turns to her with wide eyes.
“Chrissy, it’s just like my dream. This world, those weird fucking creatures, it’s exactly like…”
She turns pale.
“Dream?” Nancy asks, sharp. “What dream?”
“It’s crazy,” Eddie says weakly. He’s starting to believe it less and less.
“It’s both of us.” Chrissy straightens, raising her chin. “It’s always the same thing. For me, it’s a monster. He takes my eyes, snaps my limbs.” Mercifully, none of them point out the similarities with the recent killings, although all three of them straighten. “For Eddie, it’s…”
“Bats,” he says. “Ugly fucking bats, with sharp teeth. Everything is grey and desolate, and there’s this kid—“
The other three exchange what can only be described as a look.
“I’m crazy,” Eddie pleads, trembling. Please, for the love of God, please tell me I’m crazy. Stick me in the loony bin, tie me up and leave me on the front steps of Pennhurst. Please.
“You’re not crazy,” Nancy confirms. It feels like a death sentence.
“So, what’s the story there?” Eddie asks, tripping over a rock. “How’d you figure out the whole ‘Prophetic Nightmares mean death’ thing, anyway?”
Steve furrows his brow. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”
“I’m not.” Eddie lets out a laugh. “Trust me, I’m not at all. But I think some part of me had always known, you know? Like, it was too real to be just my imagination.”
Steve nods. “As far as we can tell, it’s only people who die from the Upside-Down,” he tells Eddie. “Has to be directly from it, no second-hand murder or anything.”
“Great.”
“Yeah.” He grimaces. “And it can change, you know? You might be having nightmares one night, and then you do something significant enough to change your…fate or whatever, and they’re gone. Or maybe something happens, and you start having them. It’s not always set in stone, you know?”
“Well, good,” Eddie breathes. There’s a chance they get out of this. “That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know all this? Like, do people just come up to you and tell you their nightmares? Do you go around asking everyone in Hawkins what they dream about?”
“As far as we can tell, it started with Barb.”
“Barb?”
“Yeah, uh, Barbara Holland?”
“The one who died from the chemical leak?”
There’s a heavy silence, where Steve looks at Nancy. There’s regret in his eyes.
“She had a nightmare, the night Will disappeared. Told Nancy a monster took her, something with no face and lots of teeth. Nancy told her to lay off the horror movies.”
Something sinks in his stomach.
“That night, they came over to my house, you know? We were messing around, being stupid, and Barb cut herself. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, we told her to go home and went inside. The next day, she was missing.”
“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “The chemical leak?”
“Bullshit,” Steve confirms.
“Shit.”
Steve blinks, eyes jumping back up to his. “What?” He asks, sounding breathless. Poor guy. Those bites must hurt like hell. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”
“It’s fine,” Eddie says, even though his mood sours a bit at the idea of Steve not listening to him. “I was just saying, you and Wheeler looked pretty cozy. I think you’ve got a chance.”
Steve stares at him. “…what?”
“Christ, Harrington, your ex-girlfriend! Nancy Wheeler, who leapt after you without a second thought and was giving you eyes the whole time she was patching you up. I’m telling you to win her back.” Sorry, Chrissy. She'd told him she was over that particular crush, though, so he figures it's fair game.
“Nancy? You want me to date Nancy again?” He asks, as if the idea is so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s baffling.
“Do you not?”
“Not really.”
“Why?” Eddie asks, because if there’s anything he’s learning about himself these days it’s that he’s a bit of a masochist. “Isn’t she the perfect girl for you?”
She is. They fit so well, Eddie could see it from space. Nancy Wheeler, with her determination and fearlessness, guns in her room and fire in her heart. Steve Harrington, the hero, the protector, standing at her side where he belongs. It’s so storybook it practically writes itself.
But Steve’s shaking his head. “We weren’t…good together,” he says haltingly, as if he’s debating on whether to even tell Eddie this. “I wanted to ignore it all. I was scared of what I’d seen, scared of the government guys whose NDA’s I signed, just…scared. I wanted to pretend like it never happened, like everything was normal. Nancy couldn’t do that. She lost Barb, and I…told her to forget. I told her to just put out the story the Feds were selling, because I was a coward. Barb’s parents sold their house to hire an investigator for a girl we knew was dead, and god, Nancy’s face…”
Eddie doesn’t know if he wants to hear this. He looks back up at the girls walking ahead. Nancy looks as fiercely determined as usual, but for the first time, he wonders what’s behind it.
“I hurt her, and she hurt me,” Steve continues. “I…shit, I really thought she loved me, you know? I thought we would get married, have kids, the whole nine yards. Realizing it was all…well, bullshit, that was almost worse than any concussion I’ve had, but I don't blame her. I wasn’t what she needed.”
“And now? I mean, you’re clearly a different guy than you were back then,” Eddie says, because he’s kind of nosy at heart. Steve’s being all introspective and shit, just giving up all this information for free, and he wants to know more. It’s not at all because something in him turns smug when faced with the fact that the world’s most fated couple aren’t fated at all. Are actually kind of terrible together, if Steve’s to be believed.
“It’d just be the same thing all over again. I’ll always love her, but we want different things. Different priorities and stuff. I wouldn’t be able to keep up, and she’s not going to slow down for me.”
It doesn’t mean he has a chance. Eddie’s got, like, negative chances with Steve Harrington. Still, the little peacock in him preens.
“What does she need, then?”
Steve’s face is almost wistful. “She needs someone like Jonathan. He’s got…drive, or whatever. He’s someone you know you can trust to do what needs to be done. The two of them made sure the stuff about the chemical leak was published, you know that? Nancy needed closure, and Jonathan made it happen. He’s cool like that. And he’s good to have in a fight, too. Throws a mean punch.” He smiles wryly at that, touching his temple like he’s lost in a memory. “He’s passionate, and caring, and he’s so stressed all the time, but he still manages to be, like, soothing. And he’s got those eyes, you know? They’re big and sad and like, wet all the time. He always looks like he’s about to cry, but it works for him. He’s just…he’s good at making people feel safe.”
Eddie barely processes the words, too busy staring at Steve in confusion, jealousy churning in his gut. Which is to be expected, given that he’s been pushing said jealousy down for this entire conversation, but he doesn’t know how they went from Steve’s relationship with Nancy to how pretty Jonathan Byers’s eyes are.
He’s good at making people feel safe. God, he had it all wrong. In the wake of finding out they’d lived through three world-ending apocalypses, that might be the greatest confession of love he’s ever heard. And it’s from King Steve, about a boy that humbled him so bad he drop-kicked his crown straight across the country.
Steve catches him staring and shuts his mouth with a click. Everything has a washed, gray tinge to it, but he swears his cheeks flush.
“I’m rambling,” he laughs, looking slightly panicked. “I was just trying to say that Nancy and I don’t fit together. Not like that. I don’t really know if we ever did.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, “I’m starting to see why.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he squeaks. Well, in for a penny, out for a pond, right? He’s already in hell, might as well try and sus Harrington out while he’s at it. “Just…Byers? Really?”
“I don’t—“
“Didn’t he kick your ass?”
“Not you too!” Steve groans. “I already got the third degree from Robin. I was asking for that beatdown. Shit, some of the stuff I said was so nasty it makes me want to take a shower when I think of it.”
His eyebrows fly up at how easily he’d given up denial. “Gotta say, I didn’t think he’d be King Steve’s type.”
“He—I—he’s not—“ he stammers. Never mind, then. Denial still firmly in place.
At least until Steve lets out a sigh. “I don’t know why I’m trying to deny it. I can see that hanky in your pocket.”
Eddie’s eyes widen innocently. “Oh, this?” He asks, tugging it a bit for emphasis. It stays firmly in place, because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t pin it. He learned after the first three he lost to miscellaneous chaos.
“Don’t play dumb, that’s my job,” Steve complains. “Shit, I can’t believe I said all that. That’s fucking embarrassing.”
“I mean, I just tried to get you to win back your ex-girlfriend when you’re in love with her boyfriend,” Eddie says mildly. “I feel like we’re both embarrassed here.”
Steve’s flush would be visible from outer space. “I’m not in love with him.”
“Who are you trying to convince here?”
“I’m not!” He protests. “Like, yeah, I used to be, but I’ve moved on. Firmly moved on. I love him in the same way I love Nancy, you know? Like, she’s the first person I ever loved, and he made me realize that I like both. They’re always going to be part of me. But I’m not in love with him anymore.”
Eddie’s heart takes off without his permission.
“Don’t tell Lucas,” she pleads.
“I won’t,” Steve promises.
Max hesitates.
“You don’t have to tell me if—“
“I’ve been having Nightmares.”
Eddie sucks in a breath.
“What?” Steve sounds…shit, there’s not a way to describe how broken Steve’s voice is with just those four words.
“Ever since Billy died,” Max says. “I can’t…it’s Vecna. I know it is. He gets me.”
“Max, why wouldn’t you tell us? We could have—“
“I thought it would be easier,” she tells him, voice cracking. “If I just pulled away, I thought maybe it would hurt less when I finally go. And I think—I think I wanted to—“
She cuts off with a sob, and Eddie’s heart fucking shatters.
“Max,” Steve says helplessly.
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry I haven’t been here, and I’m sorry for thinking I wanted to die but Steve I don’t, I don’t, I’m not ready to go. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to, Steve, I don’t know what to do—“
Steve pulls her into his chest. She curls her fingers into his shirt, and he meets Eddie’s eyes over her head. Eddie sees tears streaking down his face before he ducks his head back down.
“I’m here, Max,” Steve promises. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay? I’ll do everything I can to fix this. You just keep that Walkman on.”
She nods into his shoulder, still crying. It’s violent, her sobs shaking her entire body. She looks smaller every time Eddie sees her, like she’s retreating into herself, and now she looks tiny. Looks all her fifteen years, clinging to the only adult in the vicinity she trusts like he’s her lifeline. And Eddie sees the resolve settle on Steve’s face, knows without a doubt that he’s going to do something stupid.
“Yes, we do,” Max says quietly. Even from here, Eddie can see her trembling.
“No,” Steve says. “No, no, no, no, no.”
She’s got a whole plan though. Outlines it with steel in her voice, confident enough that everyone nods along. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d believe in it too.
Steve looks damn near apocalyptic. “Max,” he says through gritted teeth, “can I talk to you in the other room?”
Lucas stands up with her, but Steve stops him with a look. Still, he doesn’t sit back down until Max puts a hand on his arm.
“It’s just Steve,” she tells him quietly. “We just need a minute.”
No one says anything as they close the door to Max’s room behind them. A deafening click of the latch in the silence.
As soon as the door is closed, Dustin and Erica have their ears pressed to the wood. Chrissy isn’t far behind.
“Guys,” Nancy hisses, even as she creeps closer, “really?”
“This should be a private conversation,” Robin whispers, wringing her hands as Lucas tiptoes across the room to join them. “Like, you know how Steve gets about you munchkins, obviously he wouldn’t take this well. Honestly, I’m not taking this well, and I’m not your guy's babysitter-slash-big brother-slash-dad. But it’s the best plan we’ve got, unless we want to just let Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One to give up and find his fourth victim somewhere else and we wouldn’t know who it was and then he really will open the gates and kill everyone we know—“
She’s shushed by four different people.
Eddie gives in, crossing the room as silently as he can to join their little eavesdropping party. Robin follows him.
“—said you weren’t ready,” Steve is snapping, voice barely muffled through the door. Thank God for shitty trailer soundproofing. “I told you all you had to do was keep the goddamn Walkman on, and that’s what you’re going to do! We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way, Steve!” There’s a light thump that Eddie thinks might be the stomping of a foot. “It’s our only shot at winning this. It has to be me.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“What are we gonna do? Wait for him to target someone else? Wait for them to die, because I was too selfish? Because I’m a fucking coward?”
“Yes!” Steve hisses, clear as day. Their little group of eavesdroppers look at each other with wide eyes. “Fuck, Max, if that’s what it fucking takes to keep you alive. He’ll find another target—“
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“I’m not letting you die on my watch, Mayfield. I’m not letting you die, period.”
Max sounds close to pulling her hair out. “You’re not letting me do jack shit. I know the risks. I’m willing to do what it takes.”
Eddie’s heart twists. Jesus, she’s a fucking kid. He’s with Steve, on this one.
“Well I’m not,” Steve replies harshly. “And if those guys out there knew, they wouldn’t be so gung-ho about it either. You know damn well if you told them you were having Nightmares—“
Dustin loses his balance, and falls on the floor with a thud that seems to echo in the sudden silence that follows. Everyone freezes.
When Steve opens the door, he’s glowering. Eddie can’t help but notice the tears in his eyes.
“Seriously?” He demands.
“You’re having Nightmares?” Lucas asks Max, heartbroken.
Max’s face is thundering. “That was a private conversation.”
“If you wanted privacy, maybe you should have better soundproofing,” Dustin snarks. “We could have heard you from the living room.”
“Sorry for assuming we didn’t have to ask after closing the goddamn door,” Steve growls.
Max pushes past them all, heading straight for the back door.
“Max, wait—“
“Max!”
“Hold on—“
Steve starts after her, stopping them all in their tracks with a glare when they try to follow. He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a derisive huff before slamming the door shut behind him.
They stand there, crowded in the tiny hallway, frozen.
“I think we may have fudged that one up,” Robin says quietly. No one disagrees with her.
By the time they come back inside, everyone else is scavenging for apology food. Max is wiping her eyes, and Steve’s hands shake like he needs a cigarette.
“I’m the bait,” Steve announces. No preamble, no room for debate, just laying it down and expecting everyone to go along with it.
Obviously, he was hoping for too much given the kids they hang out with.
“Will that even work?” Erica scrunches her nose.
“Yes.”
“Wanna elaborate on that?” Robin asks quietly, moving into his space. He gives her a look, but lets her close the distance between them until she’s taking his arm and dragging him to the couch. He sits obediently, and Max immediately moves to the side Robin’s not on, leaving a bit of distance between them like she wants to be close but is scared to touch.
“Nope.”
“How do we even know if it’ll work?” Dustin asks. “You can’t just decide Vecna will go for you instead, that’s not how it works. That’s not how any of this works.”
“He’s right, Steve,” Nancy says apologetically. She backtracks at Steve’s deadly look. “Obviously, we won’t use Max anymore if she’s having Nightmares, but we have no way of knowing if Henry will come for you.”
“I could do it,” Chrissy offers quietly. Bile floods Eddie’s mouth, and he swallows it back with his protests. “He might still come for me, since I was cursed.”
“You’re not cursed anymore,” Steve reminds her. “You don’t even need the Walkman. Plus, he wants someone El knows. We don’t know that he’d come for you.”
“We don’t know that he’d come for you, either,” Lucas says.
“He will.”
“He will,” Max affirms quietly. When Eddie looks at her, she’s staring at her own hands.
“How do you know?” Erica asks.
“Because I had my first vision while we were outside,” Steve says.
That shuts them up.
They’re distracted by Robin standing up abruptly enough to knock over her chair, yelling something incomprehensible at Steve about his “stupid box,” and where he can shove it, whatever that means, and storming off. Steve stays sitting exactly where he is, head down, looking defeated.
Eddie and Dustin exchange startled glances.
Chrissy creeps up to Steve cautiously. “Are you going to go after her?”
He shakes his head. When he raises it, Eddie notices his eyes are rimmed red. “You should,” he mumbles. “You’d probably help more than I would, right now.”
She nods and slips away. Eddie sends Dustin in the Sinclair’s direction, and plops down in Robin’s empty seat.
“She not doing too hot with all this?”
Steve grimaces. “I told her where my will is.”
“Ah,” Eddie says, genuinely at a loss for words. “Well, fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“You not leave her anything?” It’s a shit joke, one that he kicks himself for making, but he laughs. It’s hoarse and cold and all too fake, but it’s a laugh.
“Like, almost everything I have. To be divided as she sees fit.”
“Making her do all that? No wonder she’s pissed.”
Steve’s snort is real this time.
#prophetic nightmares of the dead au#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#chrissy cunningham#steddie#how does chrissy survive vecna? i was going to figure that out#i think my original plan for this was some robin/chrissy as well or maybe nancy/chrissy/robin#btw that jancy speech that steve gave? biased as FUCK#when they got together steve convinced himself it was inevitable bc they're obviously made for each other#in reality they have reached granola bar levels of falling apart#eddie who has outsider pov to the whole thing and can see nancy twitch every time someone mentions her bf is like hmm. doesn't sound right#but i don't know enough about either of them to dispute it#steve gets vecna-ed
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they put catnip on him (bonus little mr bi panic)
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#sort of#Yes that’s the yellow sweater it survived somehow just like Eddie
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‘Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea here, Harrington.’
‘I’m getting the wrong idea.’
#stranger things#steddie#steve x eddie#eddie x steve#steve harrington#eddie munson#I just wanted to some H/C#this should have happened#my fanart#arghh went too realistic#so nervous for friday#these two better survive
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STEDDIE MICROFIC JULY: STEVE NO FUN HARRINGTON
@steddiemicrofic | Word: Pool | Word Count: 442 Rated: T (for swears, it’s a Worm Drabble of course there are swears) | CW: none
——
“You’re literally no fun, Steven.” Dustin sniped turning on his heel to go jump back into the pool.
“Yup that’s me, Steve No Fun Harrington. Use my pool, eat my food, play your stupid dumbbells and dingbats game in my living room, but god forbid you have fun.” Steve mumbles under his breath reaching for his beer.
He almost knocked the damn thing over when he felt a hand clap his shoulder, hot breath next to his ear, “Dumbbells and Dingbats huh? Better not let their DM hear you talk shit, baby, I hear he can be a little mean.”
Steve leans his head back to knock into his very hot boyfriends chest. Eddie and Steve has just kinda…fell into each others space after everything in March and four months later, Steve had absolutely zero complaints.
He juts his bottom lip out looking up at Eddie. He probably looked ridiculous, but Eddie looked at Steve like he hung the moon and Steve was 100% sure he returned that gaze whenever he had the chance.
Eddie laughs placing a quick kiss on Steve’s nose.
“What’d Henderson do this time?” Eddie asked as Steve sat back up his chair.
“How’d you know it was Henderson?”
Eddie dramatically plopped into the seat next to him, looking at him with a raised brow and a smirk. “You trying to tell me it wasn’t?”
Steve couldn’t help but laugh, Eddie always had a way of mellowing him out. “You know how it is, they just want me in the damn pool and I don’t wanna be in the damn pool Eddie.”
Steve watched as Eddie face shifted, inquisitive. He knew Eddie wanted to ask but Steve also knew that he wouldn’t. They knew each other well enough at this point to leave certain things unsaid.
Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but was met with a chorus of greeting from the kids before he could.
Eddie waved them off, telling them he’d join them in a few, before turning back to Steve.
“Do you wanna just come sit at the edge? It is pretty fucking hot Stevie, and you’re already smokin’, so maybe dipping your feet in wouldn’t be such a bad idea?”
Steve laughed, Eddie was a ham and he loved it.
Loved him.
Eddie stood up, running a hand through Steve’s hair, “I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”
Steve looked up at him again, he was sure there were hearts where his eyes were supposed to be. “Promise?”
Steve let himself be pulled up, Eddie placing a quick to his lips before dragging him to the edge of the pool.
“Yeah baby, I promise.”
——
#steddiemicroficjuly#just know that this is about 700 words and I had to get creative#and now I have a whole fuckin plot in my head#I actually quite enjoyed this and I love them your honor#keep giving me the baby prompts#my wordy ass will learn to survive#steddie#steddie ficlet#did i write something not smutty? I’m shook#they fuck in the pool later#eddie munson x steve harrington#worm brain
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