To Hell and Back🌹🥀 Vampire!Eddie x Reader (ongoing)
Y/N was never meant to enter the Upside Down, but when Holly Wheeler is dragged into it by a monster, she follows without hesitation. Now she's trapped in a rotting reflection of Hawkins… and the only one who can help her is a boy who should be dead. Eddie Munson isn't human anymore. And Holly is running out of time.
One Shots and Imagine's
Pretty Sweet 🌹- Eddie Munson X Henderson Sister Reader
-Dustin Henderson always leaves Hellfire early to keep his older sister far away from Eddie Munson’s obvious crush. Still, one forgotten character sheet ruins everything and gives Eddie the perfect chance to finally charm her right in front of Dustin’s horrified eyes.
Behind Closed Doors🔥 🌹- Eddie Munson X Steve'sSister!reader
At Steve’s chaotic party, you and Eddie Munson circle each other like fire and gasoline—sharp insults, teasing glances, and a dangerous spark that refuses to die. Every interaction is a game of push and pull, and the tension between you is impossible to ignore.
Survive The Night🌹🥀Eddie Munson X Reader
When Chrissy Cunningham turns up murdered, the town of Hawkins spirals into fear. A red envelope marked YOU appears in everyone’s pocket. A killer is hunting them. As the group barricades itself inside the Wheeler house, paranoia spikes, friendships fracture, and the night dissolves into terror. But there’s a truth lurking beneath the panic—something far more intimate, far more calculated.
Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington
Summer Heat🔥🌹-EddieXSteveXFem!Reader
After a summer away, you return to Hawkins changed — confident, magnetic, impossible for Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson to ignore. A simple movie night spirals into a charged game of truths, buried confessions, and a rivalry that turns dangerously intimate
SYNOPSIS— Eddie crackles with possessiveness, curiosity, and something dangerously close to obsession. By nightfall, the stakes rise further at the bar — touches linger, whispers echo, and every movement tests boundaries. By the end of the evening, jealousy, desire, and unspoken truths collide, leaving nothing between you both untouched.
CONTENT WARNINGS— sexual content, suggestive/romantic intimacy, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild emotional manipulation, alcohol consumption, heated teasing, and moments of some explicit language!!!
AUTHORS NOTE— Okay, so yes… Eddie gets a little a little chaotic, and maybe a tad too charmingly possessive. Enjoy:)))
16+ Stranger Things Discord
ONE WEEK LATER—
The restaurant buzzed with the kind of low, steady hum that made every laugh, every clink of silverware, feel swallowed up by candlelight and chatter. Their table stretched across the middle of the room, a wide rectangle draped in crisp white linen, and wine glasses glinting soft amber from overhead lamps.
Nancy sat at the head of one side, neat posture and quiet smiles. Gareth sprawled in the middle, already two glasses of wine deep and too loud for the setting, and Robin anchored the end, propped on one elbow, hair spilling over her shoulder as she gestured wildly in some rant about their professor.
Steve opposite Nancy, broad shoulders filling the space. You sat next to him, right in the middle, the spot no one fought for because it meant being hemmed in on both sides. But tonight it wasn’t just anyone crowding you—it was Eddie.
He slid in close when you first sat down, thigh pressed to yours beneath the table, and he hadn’t bothered to shift away since. The heat of him bled through denim and skin, constant, undeniable.
Conversation rolled on, Nancy asking Robin a question, Gareth cutting in with a joke, Steve muttering something under his breath. Eddie tipped his head toward Robin, answering whatever story she’d just thrown his way. His voice dipped smooth, laughter curling at the edges.
And then Gareth, ever the instigator, leaned across the table with a grin.
“So, Steve,” he started, drawing out the name just to needle. “How’d that frat thing go last weekend? Didn’t you and—” he flicked his chin toward you “—end up running into each other there?”
Steve’s fork paused mid-swipe through his plate. His eyes cut toward Gareth, leaning back in his chair. Robin’s brow quirked, Nancy looked mildly annoyed at Gareth’s bluntness.
“And Nancy and Robin,” Steve added, his tone clipped. You swallowed your sip of wine a little too quickly, the cool burn sliding down harder than it should have. You hadn’t told Eddie you’d seen Steve that night—not because it was anything, but because you hadn’t wanted to deal with how it might sound. Eddie had stayed behind, buried in homework, telling you to go and have fun without him. And you had.
Eddie didn’t look at you. Didn’t need to. And then, without any hesitation, his hand found your thigh. Not hidden beneath the cloth or sly under the table. No—he placed it openly, fingers draped casual but heavy, just enough for Steve to see if he looked down.
Steve’s jaw tightened before he shifted in his seat, finally turning toward you. “But…Yeah,” he said flatly. His eyes flicked over your face for a second too long. “We talked.”
You blinked at him, fork poised above your plate. “We did. At the bar. For, what, five minutes?” You gave a small shrug, easy, breezy. “It was fine.”
Squeeze
You didn’t think there was any weight behind it—why would there be? Steve didn’t look so convinced. His answers came clipped, shoulders tense as if even acknowledging you tasted bitter.
You, unfazed, speared another bite of pasta. “I thought you said you had a good time that night?” you added lightly, trying to smooth it out. Steve gave you a look that wasn’t unkind but wasn’t warm either. “Sure,” he muttered.
And through all of it—Eddie didn’t say a word.
He kept his hand anchored firmly on your thigh, thumb still dragging soft, deliberate patterns into your jeans. His gaze, however, was a study in subtlety. He laughed with Robin at something dumb she said, but his eyes flicked down once—to his own hand spread over your leg. Then up, just enough to catch Steve’s glance.
Steve’s eyes dropped quickly, caught in the act. He looked away, jaw flexing. Eddie smirked, not wide enough for the whole table to catch it, but deep enough to stir the heat crawling up your neck. He angled back to Robin mid-conversation, voice loose and easy, as though he wasn’t pulling strings with one hand while making the whole table think he was just another guy enjoying dinner.
The air around the table had just begun to feel safe again, chatter filling in the gaps, when Gareth leaned back in his chair with that grin that meant nothing good.
“So,” he started, eyes flicking between Steve and you. “What’d you guys even talk about that night? Were Robin and Nancy in on this little conversation too?”
“We didn’t talk about much. And yeah, Nancy and Robin were there.” Steve answered.
“Not the whole time,” Gareth pressed, brows lifting like he was testing a theory.
“God, Gareth, you make it sound like some big secret. It wasn’t.” You answered. But you felt it then—the slight shift under the table. Eddie’s thumb, still pressed into your thigh, stilled. Just for a heartbeat. And then it resumed, slow, steady, deceptively casual.
He didn’t even glance at you. Instead, Eddie leaned back in his chair, shoulders loose but his eyes sharp as they cut to Gareth. “Funny,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “Three glasses in and you’re suddenly real curious about shit that doesn’t concern you.”
The words landed like a weight on the table. Gareth only smirked, swirling what was left of his drink like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
The silence stretched. The clink of silverware, the hum of voices from other tables, the clatter of a plate in the kitchen—suddenly all of it felt sharper, louder, like the whole restaurant had gone still just to underline the standoff at your table.
Finally, Gareth leaned back, chair creaking under him. “Just making conversation,” he said lightly, though his grin stayed wide, too smug to be innocent.
The moment broke, but the crack it left behind didn’t vanish—it lingered, coiled tight under the surface.
Dinner carried on in a strange rhythm, like nothing had happened—but everything had. Eddie never moved his hand from your thigh, thumb tracing absent patterns against your skin, while his mouth kept up some casual thread of conversation with Robin about a band coming to town.
Steve chimed in here and there, his tone clipped, his eyes never fully meeting yours, but you felt the weight of his silence pressing harder than any of his words.
Nancy tried to steer things light, asking Gareth about his classes, but the air stayed heavy, like static that refused to clear. Every scrape of a chair, every clink of glass, every faint laugh from another table only seemed to make the quiet moments louder.
Eddie, for his part, didn’t seem fazed. He’s leaned back comfortably, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when his eyes inevitably found yours. Like he was daring you to acknowledge the storm he was keeping barely leashed.
By the time the check came, you could feel your pulse in your throat. Nobody said a word about it, but the tension followed each of you out into the night like a shadow.
And when you finally parted ways with the group—Steve giving you a curt nod before disappearing down the sidewalk with Robin and Nancy talking in hushed tones as they walked ahead with him, Gareth humming under his breath like nothing rattled him—it was Eddie who fell into step beside you.
Silent, steady, close enough that your shoulder brushed his arm.The fallout wasn’t going to happen here, not in public. But you could feel it coming.
THE DORM—
The door clicked shut, muffling the noise of the hallway, cutting you off from the buzz of the world outside. For a beat, it was just silence—your shoes on the floor, your bag slung onto the chair, the faint hum of your desk lamp.
And then his voice.
Low. Rough. Direct.
“So when were you gonna tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
His brow lifted, that sharp tilt of his head like he was mocking your answer already. “That you went out and ran into Harrington. Spent the night chatting it up while I was stuck finishing that paper?”
Your throat went dry. “Robin and Nancy were there too.”
“Not the whole time,” he shot back, not missing a beat. “Funny how Gareth picked up on that, huh?”
You let out a laugh—sharp, annoyed. “Jesus, Eddie, it wasn’t a big deal. We just talked. For a couple minutes.”
He stepped forward, closing the space between you. “Yeah, well, I don’t like surprises. Especially not ones where Steve Harrington’s in the middle of them.”
Your back pressed against the desk as he loomed closer. “You think I was keeping it from you?” you asked, heat flaring in your chest. “I didn’t think I had to give you a fucking play-by-play.”
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he stared at you. And then, softer but sharper: “Then why didn’t you?”
The words hung between you, heavy.Your chest rose and fell, and for once, you couldn’t find an answer fast enough. His hand braced against the desk beside your hip, leaning closer. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, low, steady. “Be honest.”
The lamp hummed faintly. Your pulse roared in your ears. You swallowed, meeting his gaze head-on. “I didn’t think it mattered.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, something dark flickering in his eyes. “It matters,” he said simply. He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, his voice dropping low.
“It matters when it’s Harrington,” he said, eyes cutting sharp over your features. “Don’t play dumb with me. You know the way he looks at you.”
You let out a short, incredulous laugh, though it shook at the edges. “You’re unbelievable. It was nothing. You think I was sitting there plotting some secret with Steve? Really?”
Eddie didn’t budge. His hand slid from the desk to your hip, fingers curling just enough to remind you how easily he had you pinned. His tone was calm, almost too calm. “I think you liked him looking at you. That’s what I think.”
The accusation made your stomach twist, heat rushing to your face. You shoved lightly at his chest, but he didn’t move. “Don’t twist this into something it wasn’t. I don’t like him like that.”
“Then prove it,” he said, sharp as a knife but quiet enough that the words felt more dangerous than if he’d shouted.
Your mouth went dry. His eyes searched yours like he could peel away every layer of you until there was nothing left to hide behind.
“You don’t get to corner me like this,” you snapped, though your voice broke on the last word.
That was when he finally shifted—just slightly, softening, his hand easing its grip at your hip. His eyes didn’t lose their intensity, but the edge in his voice cracked into something warmer.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he murmured, thumb brushing your side. “I just—fuck, I can’t stand the thought of you with him. You get that, right? It drives me out of my head.”
Your chest tightened, your anger colliding with something else you didn’t want to name. You hated that it worked—how quickly he could go from pulling you apart to pulling you in.
“You’re impossible,” you whispered, shaking your head.
But then his hand was cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, his voice honey-sweet and rough all at once. “And you’re mine. You can be mad at me all you want, but that doesn’t change it.”
The words hung heavy, a claim without saying it outright.
And before you could argue, before you could tell him what he was or wasn’t allowed to assume, he kissed you—slow, hot, deliberate.
His mouth pressed harder against yours, all teeth and heat at first, until it melted into something slower, something that dragged every bit of resistance out of you. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you there like he was afraid you’d slip away.
You didn’t. You leaned in, matching him, tasting wine on his tongue and the faint burn of smoke still clinging to him.
The desk dug into your hips as he pressed closer, caging you in. His other hand slid down, over your thigh, fingers spreading against the denim of your jeans before hooking under your knee and tugging your leg up against his hip
“Eddie—” you started, but the word came out half a gasp.
“What?” he murmured against your lips, smiling faintly like he already knew. “You don’t want this?” His voice dripped with challenge, daring you to say no.
Your fingers fisted in the collar of his jacket, dragging him back to you instead of answering. His laugh was low, satisfied, vibrating against your mouth as his tongue slid against yours again.
The jacket slipped off his shoulders as you pulled at it, falling somewhere on the floor. He tugged at the hem of your top, fingers slipping underneath, his palm flattening hot against your boob, gripping it.
“See?” he whispered, lips ghosting down your jaw, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver. “You don’t want him. You want me.”
The words burned, toxic and sweet all at once. You hated how much you craved them.
You tilted your head back as his mouth moved lower, finding the curve of your throat. His teeth caught at your skin, a mark waiting to bloom, and you gripped his hair tight, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
Your pulse thundered, your breath uneven. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded, lips wet. You barely had time to catch your breath before Eddie bent, his arm hooking behind your knees, the other curling around your back. With an effortless pull, he lifted you straight off the ground. He adjusted you easily in his arms, carrying you the short distance to your bed. He set you down, slow at first, until your back hit the sheets and he hovered above you.
His mouth found yours again, hot and demanding, while his hands worked at your clothes. The buttons and zippers slipped free under his fingers like he knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece. Every brush of his knuckles against your skin made you squirm. He stripped away layers with a patience that drove you wild, tugging denim past your hips, sliding fabric over your arms, letting each discarded piece fall somewhere on the floor.
By the time he pulled back, you were stretched across the bed in far less than you started with, skin bared under the dim light. He sat back for a second, chest rising and falling, gaze roaming over you slow—like he couldn’t believe you were real. His palms spread wide against your thighs, pressing you down into the mattress.
“You don’t even know,” Eddie rasped, his voice low and frayed as his mouth hovered just above you. “How bad I crave you.”
And then he was kissing his way down, slow, deliberate, until you were arching under him, his hands pinning you to the bed like he’d never let you go. Eddie kissed his way lower, dragging his mouth over every inch of skin. His hair tickled across your stomach as he shifted down, palms pressing firmly against your hips.
You opened your mouth to say his name—half warning, half plea—but he only looked up at you with a grin that was equal parts wicked and worshipful.
“Relax,” he murmured, voice low, eyes locked on yours.
His fingers grip around your thighs, spreading you open, groaning low at the sight of you. But still lingered as if he had all the time in the world. His lips brushed along the inside of your thigh, slow and maddening, leaving behind little trails of heat. Every time you thought he’d finally give in, he’d shift just slightly, biting into the soft skin above your knee, dragging his teeth enough to make you gasp.
He only chuckled, low and dark. “God, you sound good when you’re needy.”
The words alone sent another wave of heat rolling through you. And then, finally, his mouth was on your pussy. Your back arching, a sound slipping out of you at the first press of his lips on your pulsating clit. It wasn’t just the heat of him—it was the way he looked at you while doing it.
It was Kiss after kiss before swiping his tongue against you, a broken sound escaping your lips. Eddie groaned in return, the vibration shooting through you, making your thighs tremble where he held them open. He worked slow at first, teasing, dragging his tongue deliberately, savoring every twitch of your body, every gasp he pulled out of you.
Then, when your breathing grew shallow, when your grip in his hair tightened, he shifted—hungrier, faster. Wrapping his lips around your clit just to suck on it, chasing the edge he knew he was dragging you toward.
“Eddie—oh, God—” your voice cracked on his name, and he groaned again, pressing you down harder with his hands, like he wanted every part of you laid out just for him.
When you tried to squirm away from the intensity, he only shook his head, pulling you closer instead, his voice muffled against you. “No running, take it!”
The command, rough and wrecked, sent you spiraling. Your chest heaved, your thighs shook, and you clutched at him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. He didn’t let up—not when you begged, not when your body jolted, not when your moans tipped into broken, breathless cries.
The world tilted when his mouth slowed, not pulling away, just shifting—like he had more to give, like he was only just getting started. You felt his hand slip from your thigh, sliding lower.
“Already shaking for me,” he muttered against you, voice muffled but sharp with satisfaction. His other hand pressed firmly at your hip, holding you down as his fingers teased at your entrance, circling, testing.
You whimpered, hips jerking instinctively, trying to chase more, but he only smirked, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hair hung wild around his face, his lips swollen, his eyes dark and glinting like he was in no hurry.
“Relax, sweetheart. Let me in.”
The words, low and rough, were all the warning you got before he pushed further, slipping inside with agonizing slowness, his knuckles grazing where you ached most. The stretch made you gasp, clutching tighter at his hair, but Eddie just groaned like the sound alone wrecked him.
“That’s it,” he praised, watching every twitch of your face like it was his favorite thing. “God, you’re so—” He cut himself off with a hiss as his fingers curled, moving in time with his mouth when he leaned back down.
It was too much. The double assault of his lips dragging over clit and the deliberate curl of his hand inside your pussy had you unraveling fast, your voice breaking into soft moans that spilled freely now, filling the room. Eddie lapped it up—your sounds, your shivers, your desperate grip—like every reaction was proof of how completely he had you.
When your body jolted, overwhelmed, you tried to twist away, but his arm locked across your stomach, anchoring you down. He lifted his head just enough to growl, wrecked and breathless, “don’t, give it to me, all of it.”
The tension built fast, faster than you could handle. His fingers moved with a ruthless rhythm, curling at just the right angle, dragging out every broken sound in your throat. His mouth never relented, lips and tongue working you over like he wanted to brand himself into your skin.
Your chest heaved, your legs shook against his shoulders, and still he kept you pinned—firm, immovable, like he knew exactly what you needed even when you begged him to stop.
“Eddie—Eddie, I can’t—”
“You can,” he cut you off, his voice rough and commanding even with his mouth still pressed to you. The vibration of it made your head spin. “You’re gonna. For me.”
The words cracked something open inside you. Pressure coiled so tight it was unbearable, your nails scraping across his scalp as you tried to ground yourself. And then—he curled his fingers just right, sucked just hard enough—and you shattered.
Your whole body arched, a raw cry ripping from your throat as the orgasm tore through you, overwhelming and hot and blinding. It felt endless, wave after wave crashing down, every nerve lit up and trembling. Eddie didn’t stop, not right away. He carried you through it, his mouth and hand coaxing every aftershock, dragging the peak out until you were left gasping, shaking, wrecked.
Finally, when you sagged back against the mattress, spent and trembling, he eased up. Slowly, gently, he withdrew, planting kisses along your thighs like he hadn’t just ruined you, like he hadn’t just unraveled every inch of your self-control.
He crawled back up over you, his lips swollen, chin glistening, hair wild. He looked down at you with something between pride and hunger, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin that sent your stomach flipping.
And then he kissed you—deep, messy, letting you taste yourself on him—while his hand framed your jaw, holding you like you belonged entirely to him.
Your body was still trembling, nerves shot through with aftershocks, but the kiss deepened fast—messy, hungry. His mouth was intoxicating, heavy and consuming. Eddie’s weight pressed into you, solid and grounding, his hand cradling the side of your face like he needed to keep you exactly where you were. Every time you tried to breathe, he stole it back, dragging his mouth over yours until your head spun.
Your hands roamed on instinct, fists curling into the fabric of his shirt before sliding lower, tugging at the hem, desperate to feel more, pulling him closer. He groaned into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that vibrated down your spine, and pulled the shirt off in one swift move before crashing back down against you.
His chest against yours, his hair brushing your cheeks, his hands sliding under your thighs to anchor you tight against him. You gasped into his kiss, Your fingers brushed over the waistband of his jeans, a sound that shot straight through you.
“Careful,” he rasped against your lips, though he didn’t sound the least bit careful himself. His hips pressed down, deliberate, showing you just how hard you had him. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I like fire,” Your fingers fumbled the sharp clink of metal breaking the silence between kisses But he didn’t stop you. He lifted slightly, enough for your hands to work, for the leather to slide free, you yanked the belt loose, Pants slid down. The air between you shifted—charged, heavier—when your palm brushed against him through the thin fabric still left. Eddie’s breath hitched, his forehead dropping to yours as if he needed the anchor.
“Fuck,” he groaned, raw and unguarded.
Eddie shifted above you, balancing on one arm as his other hand pushed his jeans further down, impatient now, rough with himself in his hurry. The denim hit the floor with a muted thud, leaving only the thin barrier of his boxers between him and you. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as his eyes roved over you like he was memorizing every angle, every curve.
“Christ,” he muttered, almost to himself, before hooking his fingers into the waistband. He tugged them down in one sharp motion, tossing them aside without care, leaving nothing between the two of you now.
Your heart hammered at the sight of his throbbing head , heat pooling low in your stomach. He hovered above you, wild hair curtaining his face, shadows flickering across sharp cheekbones. Every inch of him radiated hunger and restraint, a contradiction that only made your pulse race faster.
You reached down, your fingers wrapping around his thick cock, shaky certainty. Eddie hissed, his whole body jerking as if the touch burned him, his eyes squeezing shut.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, the sound breaking low in his chest. His head fell to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin.With slow, deliberate care, you guided him lower, lining him up against the place you needed him most. Eddie’s eyes cracked open, glassy and dazed, and he looked down at you like you’d just undone every wall he’d ever put up.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, but his hips obeyed, pressing forward just enough for you to feel the heavy promise of what was coming.
The stretch was slow, deliberate, and you gasped, nails digging into his arms as he slid into you inch by inch. He groaned into your neck, the sound guttural, his teeth grazing your skin as if the sensation was too much for him to contain.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured, over and over, each word a claim punctuated by the steady roll of his hips. His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face so he could kiss you hard, swallowing your moans like he couldn’t get enough.
The bed creaked beneath the rhythm. When you tried to hide your face against his shoulder, overwhelmed, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand framing your cheek. “Don’t look away. I want to see you.”
Your breath stuttered in your chest, body already strung tight, and then Eddie’s hips snapped harder. The shift stole the air right out of your lungs. His thrusts weren’t careful anymore—no, they were sharper, rougher, each one landing with a force that rattled the bedframe.
“Look at me,” he ground out, his hand still cradling your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip as your moans slipped free. His curls stuck to his forehead, jaw tense as he drove into you, pace relentless now. “That’s iit—eyes on me, sweetheart.”
Your lips parted, gasps tumbling out of you as your gaze locked to his. He groaned at the sight, a low, broken sound that vibrated against your skin.
“Good girl,” he praised, the words dragging a whimper out of you. “Taking me so well. You feel so—fuck—you feel so perfect around me.”
The filth in his tone only made your pussy clench harder, your nails biting crescents into his shoulders. He hissed at the sting but didn’t slow down, if anything, he pushed deeper, harder, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that had your head spinning.
“Eddie—” you cried, the sound breaking high and desperate.
“Say it again,” he demanded, teeth catching your jaw as he kissed and bit his way down your throat. “Say my name.”
“Eddie!”
His groan was wrecked, almost pained, like hearing it tore something loose inside him. His lips pressed hot and messy to your ear. “God, I could live in you—swear I could. My pretty girl. Mine.”
Every word had you unraveling faster, your moans rising to match the slap of skin, the creak of the bed beneath you both. He muttered curses into your neck, broken little praises tangled with filth.
“You like that? Hm? You like when I fuck you like this?” His voice was a growl now, sharp and demanding, even as his hand trailed down your side, gripping your hip hard enough to bruise as he drove into you harder.
“Yes—yes!” you cried, arching beneath him, your whole body trembling at the pace he kept.
“That’s my girl,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours now, sweat slick between you. His eyes stayed locked on you, dark and blazing, drinking in every twitch, every sound. “Sound so pretty when you beg for me.”
The coil inside you wound tighter with every thrust, every filthy word, every rough moan he let spill into your skin. And Eddie—God, Eddie was unraveling with you, his grunts louder, his thrusts more erratic, his mouth spilling pet names like he couldn’t stop himself.
“Sweetheart, baby, mine—fuck, you’re mine.”
Your body jerked under him, nails dragging down his back, the sounds leaving you nothing but broken cries of his name.
And still, he didn’t let up. Not until your body was trembling on the edge again, his voice low and wrecked in your ear: “Come on, baby. Let go for me. Wanna feel you.”
Eddie shifted suddenly, hands sliding down your sides before gripping the backs of your thighs. With one rough motion, he pushed your legs up, folding you beneath him until your knees nearly brushed your chest. The angle was brutal, exposing, and the breath punched out of you in a desperate cry when he drove back in.
“Holy—fuck,” Eddie groaned, his voice hoarse, almost breaking. His curls fell wild around his face, sweat dripping down his temple as he looked down at you. “Look at you. Bent up for me, taking every inch.”
Your fingers clawed at the sheets, your body trembling under the weight of his grip. He held your thighs tight, pressing them down against you, locking you into place so you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. His hips snapped forward again, and the angle made your vision blur, white-hot sparks shooting through every nerve.
“Eddie—” you gasped, eyes squeezing shut.
“Uh-uh,” he bit out, thrusts deep and merciless. His voice dropped to a growl as he leaned closer, sweat-slick skin brushing yours. “Eyes open. I want you to see what I’m doing to you.”
And you did—you forced them open, and the sight stole what little breath you had left. You watched the way his body moved against yours, watched him sink his cock into you and pull back only to slam forward again. Every roll of his hips was obscene, your body yielding to his in ways that made your cheeks burn even as heat pooled low in your stomach.
Eddie’s eyes flicked down too, catching the view, and he cursed so loudly it made your pulse trip. “Fuck, that’s—Jesus, sweetheart, I could watch this forever.”
Then, with no warning, he spit, the slick sound filthy in the charged air. You gasped, watching as he brought his thumb down to smear it between you, dragging in tight, sinful circles that had you choking on your moan.
“Yeah, you like that,” he rasped, his grin sharp, wild, almost unhinged as he pressed harder, never letting up his relentless pace. “Look at you—squirming, falling apart just for me. God, you’re perfect.”
Your thighs trembled under his grip, your body caught between the steady pound of his hips and the devastating pressure of his thumb. You cried out, back arching, nails digging into your own skin.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice a wrecked whisper. “Take it, baby. Take all of it. My good girl.”
The sound of skin against skin filled the room, every thrust rougher, deeper, Eddie’s moans breaking louder with yours. His forehead dropped to yours, curls brushing your face, his eyes glassy and wild as they burned into yours.
“Say it,” he demanded, his voice cracking. “Say you’re mine.”
“Yours,” you sobbed, head tipping back into the pillow. “I’m yours, Eddie.”
His groan was guttural, wrecked, like your words undid him completely. His thrusts grew erratic, his thumb working faster against you, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.
“Good girl,” he panted, kissing you hard, messy, desperate.
Your body was already shaking, toes curling, thighs trembling in his grip, when Eddie’s voice turned sharp and commanding above you.
“Cum for me,” he ordered, hips slamming into you with a brutal rhythm that had your head spinning. His thumb worked your clit mercilessly, drawing tight, devastating circles as his breath came in ragged groans. “Be a good girl and cum for me—right now. Do it. Cum for me.”
The words unraveled you. Your vision blurred, your chest heaved, and then it hit—violent, overwhelming, ripping through you like fire. You cried out, body arching as your release tore free, and Eddie held you down, pressing your thighs back tight against your chest, forcing you to ride the wave with nowhere to run.
And then—God—liquid heat gushed out of you, uncontrollable, soaking everything in its path. “Fuck—fuck, look at that,” he moaned, his voice wrecked with awe and hunger. “Making such a mess for me. Good girl. My good fucking girl.”
Your juices drenched him, slicking his lower abdomen, dripping down your back, pooling in the sheets beneath you. Eddie’s thrusts didn’t stop—if anything, they grew more frantic, his chest heaving as he groaned at the sight and feel of you breaking apart under him. His curls stuck to his temples, sweat dripping, but his gaze stayed locked on where you came undone for him, watching every drop coat his skin.
You sobbed his name, your body twitching, legs quaking, but Eddie didn’t let go. His voice stayed low and raw, chanting against your ear, “That’s it, baby, keep going. Be my good girl. Give it all to me. That’s it—good girl, so good—fuck.”
You were still trembling when his own control finally shattered. He pulled out with a harsh, desperate groan, wrapping his hand around himself just enough to finish. His head tipped back, his moan broken and guttural, before he spilled across your swollen folds, painting you, mixing with the wetness already covering your skin.
“Jesus Christ,” he panted, his whole body shuddering as he came undone, streaks of heat across your core, sliding down to meet the mess you’d made together. His hand gripped your thigh so tight it left marks, like he needed to hold onto something to ground himself.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged, heavy breathing of both your chests rising and falling in unison. Eddie collapsed forward, catching himself with his forearm just above your head, curls brushing your cheek, lips grazing your temple.
“You and your pussy are going to kill me,” he whispered, voice hoarse and reverent, pressing a sloppy kiss to your damp skin.
His fingers trailed lazily through the mess between you, smearing it thoughtlessly before he finally let your legs drop back to the bed. You winced at the soreness, but Eddie’s arms wrapped around you before you could shift, dragging you close against his chest.
The sheets were ruined, the air still heavy with heat, but in his embrace, you only felt the warmth of his heartbeat against your ear and the rasp of his voice when he murmured one last time:
“You’re Mine.”
THE NEXT DAY—
The off-campus café smelled like roasted beans and sugar syrup, the air hazy with steam from milk frothers and chatter from early risers who lived on caffeine. You followed Eddie in, bell over the door chiming above your head, the autumn chill still clinging to your jacket. Robin and Nancy were already tucked into a corner booth, two mugs steaming between them.
“Finally,” Nancy teased the moment you slid in across from her. Her eyes flicked to Eddie with a knowing gleam. “I was beginning to think you’d skip out again—you’re always so… occupied.”
“Occupied?” you echoed, sliding your bag down beside you. The word felt too sharp, your gaze automatically cutting to Eddie. He looked entirely unbothered, sprawling in the seat beside you, drumming his fingers on the table like the comment didn’t touch him.
“With what?” you pressed, though you knew. You didn’t say it, but Hailey sat unspoken in the back of your throat.
Robin’s mouth opened, the start of a name slipping free—“Yeah, with Hail—”
“Cute,” you cut her off with a sarcastic smile, too quick, too pointed.
The look Eddie gave you then was razor-thin, amusement and annoyance knotted together. He leaned back, stretching his arm along the booth behind you, his tone dry as bone. “Adorable, sweetheart. You should say it again, maybe it’ll sound like you mean it.”
Heat prickled under your skin, but before the tension could bite deeper, the waiter slid in with a notepad. You ordered coffee and a bagel, Eddie echoing the same, his smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth like he hadn’t let your comment go.
Conversation floated easily enough once mugs hit the table—Nancy complaining about the reading load, Robin dissecting some ridiculous Delta party story—but you barely chimed in. Your hands wrapped around your mug for warmth, and the weight of last night still pulled at your bones, heavy and obvious.
Robin noticed first. She always did. Her chin tipped toward you, brows raised. “You’re quiet. And tired. Why are you so tired?”
You blinked, lips parting to answer, but Eddie cut in before the words could form. His voice was light, sarcastic, but it snagged on you all the same. “Yeah,” he murmured, tilting his head toward you like he was waiting to catch you out. “Why are you tired?”
The tease sat there, sticky and loaded, making the heat crawl up your neck. You opened your mouth, ready to deflect with something quick, when the scrape of sneakers against the floor pulled all eyes toward the entrance.
Steve Harrington breezed. “Sorry I’m late,” he said
You didn’t get the chance to respond. Eddies arm slipped around your shoulders with an easy, practiced confidence, pulling you into him. His mouth found yours in a kiss—unhurried, teasing, the kind that hummed against your lips like a private joke only the two of you shared.
It wasn’t for Steve. Eddie hadn’t even glanced up at him. It was for you—for the sake of pulling that little spark from your chest, for keeping you tethered when you were drifting too far into silence.
Still, the timing was unavoidable. Steve froze mid-step, his jaw flexing for just a moment before he slid into the chair across from Eddie.
Eddie pulled back just enough to grin at you, eyes flicking down to your mouth before he turned back to his plate like nothing had happened. His arm stayed draped over your chair, thumb brushing the edge of your shoulder in absentminded circles, while you tried to steady the wild stutter of your pulse.
Nancy cleared her throat, filling the tension with something light about seminar assignments, Robin leaned into Gareth’s latest ridiculous story, but the air between the three of you—Eddie, you, Steve—buzzed too sharp, like a wire pulled taut.
Eddie’s thumb tapped an easy rhythm against the back of your chair, as if the kiss hadn’t just short-circuited your brain in front of everyone. He reached for his mug, sipping slow, and glanced around the table like he was just now catching up to the conversation.
“So,” he said casually, though there was a coil of curiosity under the drawl, “what did you guys get up to last night after we left?”
Robin perked up, spoon still clinking against her mug. “Oh, we actually went to play pool.”
“Yeah,” Nancy added, a small smile tugging at her lips. “At that bar three spots down from where we had dinner. It wasn’t planned—we were just walking and kind of ended up there.”
Robin leaned in, eyes bright. “You should’ve seen it. Total dive, sticky floors, neon beer signs half-burnt out. But the tables weren’t bad. I actually sunk, like, two shots. Which is two more than I thought I’d ever make.”
Nancy laughed, shaking her head. “And then you scratched immediately after.”
“Details,” Robin waved it off. “Anyway, it was fun. Low-key, but fun.”
Eddie hummed, slow and thoughtful, his fingers brushing the back of your shoulder like an absentminded tick. “Pool at a bar three doors down,” he repeated, smirk tugging. “Not bad. Guess I’ll have to tag along next time—show you how it’s actually done.”
Robin grinned. “Sure, but no hustling. We know your type, Munson.”
“Me?” Eddie feigned innocence, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed him. He shifted just slightly closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours under the table. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
You sipped your coffee. Robin nudged her mug toward Nancy with a grin. “Don’t let him fool you. He totally looks like the type to set up a whole pool hustle—band shirt, rings flashing under the lights, some tragic sob story about needing bus money.”
Nancy snorted into her coffee. “And then walking out a hundred bucks richer.”
Eddie spread his hands in mock offense, rings catching the café’s dim light. “Wow. My reputation precedes me. You girls should know—I only scam Wall Street types and frat boys who deserve it.” He paused, smirk widening. “Okay, and maybe Gareth. But that’s just for sport.”
You rolled your eyes, tearing off a corner of your bagel. “Pretty sure hustling Gareth doesn’t even count. That’s like kicking a puppy.”
Robin choked on her coffee, laughing. “Exactly!”
Eddie tilted his head, looking at you through his lashes. “You wound me, sweetheart. Remind me not to let you join my PR team.”
Nancy leaned back, resting her elbow on the table. “I don’t know, she’s got a point. Pool hustling Gareth is hardly impressive.”
Eddie let out a low chuckle, brushing his knuckles lightly against your shoulder in a gesture so casual the others didn’t blink—but you felt the deliberate weight of it. “Guess I’ll just have to prove myself at the next bar night, huh? Maybe I’ll even let you be my partner,” he said, glancing at you like it was already settled.
“Or his mark,” Robin quipped, ever quick with a jab.
“Tempting,” Eddie shot back, lips curling, “but she doesn’t exactly strike me as the losing type.”
You chewed on your bagel, pretending to hide a smile behind your coffee.
“So what’s everyone doing after class today?”
“Library,” Robin groaned, like the word itself hurt her throat. “I’ve got a paper due and if I try writing in my room, Nancy’ll distract me.”
“I’ll distract you?” Nancy shot her a look, lips twitching. “You’re the one who puts on eighties pop playlists when you’re supposed to be typing.”
Robin held her mug up like a toast. “Brain fuel.”
Eddie leaned back, arm still stretched across your chair, fingers drumming an idle beat. “What about you, Harrington?” he asked, finally acknowledging Steve, who had been nursing his coffee quietly at the other end of the table.
Steve shrugged, eyes flicking briefly toward you before settling back on Eddie. “Libary.”
“Shocker,” Robin muttered into her mug.
Eddie just laughed, shaking his head. His hand slid a fraction lower on your thigh, not inappropriate but enough that you noticed. You focused on your bagel, spreading cream cheese to distract yourself from the sudden current under the table.
Robin, oblivious, piped up again. “We should all go again this week—pool, maybe darts. Make it a regular thing.”
Nancy smiled. “That could actually be fun.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said, not looking away from you as his thumb traced the seam of your jeans under the table. “Sounds like a good time.”
Robin suddenly pointed her spoon like an accusation. “Hey, by the way,” she said, “you two never told us how you killed the rest of your night yesterday.”
Your spine stiffened so fast you almost choked on air.
Eddie didn’t miss it. Didn’t miss anything. His fingers paused on your thigh, then resumed — slower this time, more deliberate.
“Well,” Eddie drawled, stretching the word, “we went back to her dorm. Watched a movie.” He tapped your leg once, like a secret.
“Uh-huh,” Robin said, clearly not convinced.
Nancy narrowed her eyes knowingly. “What movie?”
You blurted the first title your brain could reach. “Ferris Bueller.”
Eddie snorted quietly. “Sure we did.”
Steve looked up at that — not sharply, but with an attention that hit like heat. His knee brushed yours under the table, maybe accidental, maybe not. His expression stayed neutral, but you caught the flicker in his eyes. Something caught between curiosity and something heavier.
Nancy didn’t notice; Robin definitely didn’t. But Eddie did. Eddie noticed everything. He leaned back, looking almost satisfied.
“So,” Eddie said casually, finally peeling his hand away from your thigh to grab his mug, “what time’s everyone free after class?”
You felt that loss of contact immediately, embarrassingly so — like he’d taken half your oxygen with him.
Steve, though, seemed to breathe easier. “I’m free at four,” he offered, stirring his coffee despite not adding anything to it.
“Five,” Nancy said.
“Four,” Robin countered. “I have a break then.”
Eddie looked at you. “And you?”
Your answer stuck for a second in your throat. Everyone was waiting, but only one person’s eyes made you feel warm all over.
“Five,” you said finally. “I’m open after that.”
Eddie’s grin was slow and satisfied, like that meant exactly what he wanted it to.
Steve’s jaw worked once, a barely visible shift, like he’d heard something different in the same sentence.
“Then it’s settled,” Robin declared. “Midweek pool night.”
“Can’t wait,” Eddie murmured — and somehow it didn’t feel like he meant the pool at all.
HALLWAY RUN INS—
You were late — again — and your writing professor did not believe in grace periods. So you shoved your notebook into your bag, slung the strap over your shoulder, and locked your door in one frantic motion.
You turned.
And walked straight into a chest.
Strong hands caught your forearms before you could even register the impact.
“Whoa there!”
The voice was warm, laughing a little, familiar in a way that made your heart stutter — but it wasn’t until you looked up that you realized it was Steve.
His fingers tightened reflexively, steadying you, and the shift of your weight brought you a little closer than you meant to be. Close enough to smell his cologne — something clean, something sharp, something too easy to remember.
“Sorry!” you burst out, stepping back so quickly his hands drifted off your arms. “I’m in a rush.”
You kept moving, or tried to — but Steve angled his body just slightly, not blocking the hallway, just… slowing you down. Enough that you felt compelled to stop.
He had just stepped out of Robin’s room. His eyes met yours, and the shift in him was immediate, visible — the coldness he’d been giving you the last couple of days gone, replaced with something softer and frustratingly unreadable.
“You know I don’t hate you, right?”
He said it lightly, with a chuckle, like he was talking you down from a ledge you weren’t sure you were standing on.
Your stomach tightened.
You hadn’t planned to react. You hadn’t planned anything other than getting to class on time. But the words hit a little too close to the thought you’d been swallowing since the café, since the night you and Steve had gone out, since Eddie—
Your eyebrows pinched, your arms coming up to cross your chest before you could stop yourself.
“I didn’t think you did,” you said, but the tone came out sharper, cooler — more defensive — than you intended.
Steve noticed it instantly.
His face flickered — not offended, not annoyed. Just… aware. Like he hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of that tone, but also couldn’t argue that he deserved it.
He huffed a quiet laugh, eyes dropping to the floor for a second before flicking back to you.
He looked different like this — less composed, more honest, like he hadn’t had time to put his walls back up.
“I just…” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince, “I feel like you think I’m mad at you. Or avoiding you. Or—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching, before finishing softer. “I don’t want you thinking that.”
You stared at him.
The hallway hummed with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights. Someone’s door slammed on a floor above you. A copier churned somewhere far off.
But between you and Steve, everything felt suspended.
You couldn’t help the small, humorless laugh that slipped out. “Well, you’ve barely talked to me since the diner, so… yeah. I kind of noticed.”
Steve’s eyes flickered with something — guilt, maybe, or frustration at himself, or frustration at the situation. You couldn’t tell.
“That wasn’t about you,” he said quickly.
“Really?” you replied, brows lifting. “Because it felt pretty personal.”
The words hung there.
He took a half-step closer, not enough to crowd you, but enough that you had to tilt your chin up to hold his gaze. His voice dropped, quieter, more earnest.
“It wasn’t you,” he repeated. “I swear.”
Your breath hitched — not because of what he said, but because of how he said it.
Like he needed you to believe him.
Like he needed to fix something he hadn’t meant to break.
His eyes searched your face for something, you didn’t know what — forgiveness? Understanding? Or maybe just the truth you hadn’t said out loud: that his sudden distance did bother you.
You swallowed, shifting your bag on your shoulder.
“Steve, I really don’t have time for—”
“I know,” he said, stepping back finally, hands raised in mock surrender. “Go. You’ll be late.”
But then his voice softened again, catching you at the last second.
“Just… talk to me later?please?”
You hesitated, fingers gripping your bag strap. There was something in his expression — something vulnerable, unguarded, almost apologetic — that made it hard to just walk away.
You nodded once, barely.
Steve’s shoulders relaxed, just a fraction, like he’d been bracing for you to refuse.
“Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Good.”
You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else. Not with him looking at you like that. Not with your chest tight and your pulse too loud.
So you turned and hurried down the hallway, leaving him standing there outside Robin’s door.
But the entire walk to class, you could still feel the ghost of his hands on your arms.
Your writing classroom was always too cold — a sterile, over-air-conditioned cube with humming fluorescent lights and plastic chairs that forced your spine into submission. Usually, the discomfort helped you focus. Today, it made everything worse.
You slid into your seat, breath still uneven from speed-walking across campus. Your notebook lay open in front of you, pen resting in the crease, and Professor Larkin was already droning about character arcs and narrative conflict.
Fitting. Except your brain wouldn’t latch onto a single word. You tried. You really did.But every time you blinked, you saw the hallway again.
Steve’s hands catching your arms.
His eyes searching your face.
The way he said “please.”
You pressed your lips together, staring at the blank page, but the air felt thick, heavy, pulling your thoughts apart and rearranging them until they made no sense.
What the hell was that about?
Why would he say he doesn’t hate you?
Why did it feel like an apology?
Why did it matter?
You exhaled through your nose, a little too sharp, and leaned back hard in your chair, tapping your pen anxiously against your leg.
Eddie.
Your stomach twisted.
And god, you already knew how that conversation would go. Eddie didn’t like surprises. Not emotional ones. Not ones that involved other guys, even if he pretended he didn’t care.
Your fingers drifted to your mouth before you realized it, teeth catching the edge of your thumbnail. You hadn’t bitten your nails in months. Your mind spun faster.
Do I tell him?
How do I tell him?
Do I even owe him that?
“. . . and if you look at the motif repeating in chapter four,” Professors voice cut through the static in your head, “you’ll notice how internal conflict shapes the protagonist’s decisions—”
You almost laughed out loud. Internal conflict. Yeah, no kidding.
You chewed harder on your nail.
If you told Eddie, he’d react — somehow. Maybe badly. Maybe not. He doesn’t quite like Steve at the moment, and he liked even less when other people had access to parts of you he thought belonged to him.
But if you didn’t tell him?
If he found out from someone else?
Your chest tightened at the thought. Eddie’s anger wasn’t loud — not usually. It was subtle, sharp, quiet in a way that cut deeper than yelling ever could. You could already imagine the flicker in his eyes, the coldness in his voice, the sarcastic little “oh, so you forgot to mention that part?”
Your knee bounced, heel tapping chaotically against the floor tile.
Your heartbeat wouldn’t settle.
He’ll think I’m hiding something.
He’ll think I wanted Steve to—
You shut that thought down before it fully formed.
No.
No, you weren’t going there.
You closed your notebook, pressing your palm flat against the cover as if that could flatten your thoughts, too.
But your brain wouldn’t listen. It kept replaying everything — Steve’s expression, the way he softened when he talked to you, the way he seemed… nervous?
You didn’t want to care.
But you did.
A bitter sigh slipped out of you, barely audible but enough that the girl sitting diagonally to your right glanced over for a second before looking away again.
You sank deeper into your chair, cheeks warming. Professors voice faded into a dull buzz.
All you could think about was the look on Steve’s face. And the look Eddie would have when he finds out.
And the awful, impossible truth sitting right in the center of your sternum: No matter what you chose, someone was getting hurt.
You took another shaky inhale, pulled your hand away from your mouth, and stared blankly at the clock above the door.
Only twenty minutes had passed. You were trapped with your thoughts for one hour more.
The second your professor dismissed the room, you shoved your notebook into your bag like it might bite you. Your pulse was still out of rhythm, thoughts still tangled, but you forced your expression into something neutral — or what you hoped was neutral — before stepping into the hall.
Students swarmed around you, everyone spilling out of classrooms, filling the corridor with noise you could barely parse.
But in the middle of it, you saw him.
Eddie.
Leaning against the wall directly across from your door, hands in his pockets. He looked like he’d been waiting longer than he’d admit — foot tapping, head tilted, eyes scanning the hallway until they locked on you.
And the moment he saw your face? Something in his expression tightened.
He pushed off the wall, weaving through the crowd with that loose-limbed swagger that drew eyes without him trying. When he reached you, he didn’t hesitate — one hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he tugged you in for a kiss.
You kissed him back. But it was quick. Barely there. Dry.His lips barely had time to settle against yours before you were already pulling back.
Eddie stilled. Just for a second. But he felt it — the hesitation, the shift, the way your mind wasn’t with him.
Your lips barely brushed his before you pulled away, and Eddie’s brows dipped, mouth tugging into a crooked, unimpressed smirk.
“Well damn,” he muttered under his breath, stepping back half a beat to look at you. “Didn’t realize I’d get the pity peck treatment today.”
You blinked at him.
He huffed out a laugh — sharp, a little too pointed. “What, no ‘hi Eddie, missed you,’ nothing? Thought you’d be a little more excited to see me.”
But underneath the sarcasm, his eyes were tight. Searching. Clocking every crack in your expression.
You zipped your bag and hitched it over your shoulder, stepping past him like nothing was wrong. He fell into stride beside you, matching your pace effortlessly.
After a couple seconds, he finally asked:
“What’s wrong with you?”
Your steps faltered slightly — not enough for someone else to notice, but definitely enough for him. “Nothing,” you said, a little too quickly. A little too light. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” He glanced down at you, eyes narrowed, searching your face for the truth you weren’t giving him. “Because you walked outta there lookin’ like you were two seconds from throwing up or punching someone. Hard to tell which.”
Your laugh came out thin. “I’m just tired. Honestly.”
He didn’t buy that for a second. She’s lying. Not about everything — she probably is tired — but there’s something else. She always talks different when she’s trying to hide something. Too smooth. Like she’s trying to convince herself first.
He slowed just enough to brush his knuckles against your hand, hooking his pinky with yours before slipping his fingers fully between them.
He watched you carefully, jaw working, thumb stroking over your knuckle with slow, deliberate circles — the kind he used when he was deciding whether to push or let something slide.
“You wanna get food?” he offered after a moment, voice lighter, casual. “Or coffee?”
You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.
His stomach dropped.
Something happened. And she’s not telling me. Why? What the hell scared her off so fast? Did someone say something? Did Harrington—
He shoved that thought down fast.
You adjusted your bag again, clearing your throat. “Maybe later. I just need some air.” You didn’t notice the way his jaw clenched.
You didn’t see the way his shoulders stiffened.But he didn’t argue. He nodded like he understood something he didn’t at all.
“Okay,” he said softly.
You kept walking, eyes fixed straight ahead, hoping the hallway would just swallow the tension whole, But the air between you and Eddie felt thick enough to choke on.
Your shoulder brushed his arm and even that tiny contact felt wrong, off, misaligned.
You took one more step— And Eddie stopped.
Just stopped.
His hand slipped out of yours so fast you felt the warmth leave your skin. You turned, confused, your bag sliding on your shoulder as you faced him.
He wasn’t looking at you at first. He was staring at the floor, jaw so tight the muscle jumped.
Then he lifted his eyes. And the look he gave you?It wasn’t anger. He’s annoyed.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” he said, voice low, steady in a way that made your stomach twist. “But I’m not really in the mood to deal with whatever happened between breakfast this morning and your class.”
The words hit harder than they should’ve.
“Eddie—”
“No.” He shook his head once, almost imperceptibly, hair falling forward. “If you’re pissed at me, or upset, or— I don’t know— spiraling about something, then just…” His throat bobbed. “Say it.”
Your pulse hammered. He looked at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. Like he knew three corners of the picture but the center was blank.
“Instead,” he continued, voice dropping rougher, “you’re walking around like you’d rather be anywhere but next to me. So whenever you get your feelings in check? Whenever you wanna actually talk to me instead of shutting down and pretending you’re fine—”
He stepped back. One step. Then another.
“Let me know.”
And before you could say anything—before you could even breathe— he turned around and walked the other way.
Not fast. Not dramatic. But with finality. Like he was preserving the last bit of dignity he felt he had in that moment.
You stood frozen in the hallway, the noise of students shifting around you in muffled waves, your chest tightening with the realization:
He wasn’t mad.
He was confused and annoyed. And you’d let him walk away anyway.
You stayed standing in the hallway long after Eddie disappeared around the corner.
Students moved around you—shoving books into bags, rushing to classes—but it all felt distant. Fuzzy. Like you were underwater.
Your heart wouldn’t steady, Your breath wouldn’t even out.Your brain? Completely unspooled. God. What did I just do? Why didn’t I say something? Why did he walk away like that? Why did I let him?
You pressed your knuckles against your lips, trying to force the sting in your eyes back.
You didn’t cry over people.But the way Eddie had looked at you— like you’d pulled the ground out from under him and didn’t even notice— made something in your chest collapse in on itself.
You needed air, You needed quiet. You needed to think before you completely fell apart.Your feet moved before your mind did.You walked down one hallway.Then another. Should I tell him?
No—he’ll get pissed, But not telling him is worse. Why did Steve even say that? What was that conversation? Why is everything so complicated?
A door opened—someone brushing past you—and only then did you realize where you’d wandered. The library.
Of course your brain dragged you to the one place where you could sit in silence and fall apart without (hopefully) anyone noticing. You slipped inside. The smell of paper and old wood always calmed you, but right now it barely dented the anxiety crawling up your spine.
You moved deeper into the rows, head down, breathing shaky— Until a familiar voice broke through the quiet.
“You’re early.”
You froze. Steve.
He was at a table by the window with Robin, textbooks spread out like a battlefield. Steve straightened in his chair.
Robin was mid-sip of her iced coffee, eyes widening when she noticed the state you were in.“Are you okay?”
You nodded too quickly.
“I’m fine,” you said, voice not even close to convincing.
Robin set her coffee down, leaning forward. “Uh. No. That’s a lie. What happened?”
You swallowed hard, trying to breathe, trying not to crumble right there on the carpeted floor. You hadn’t meant to see either of them. But here you were— spiraling and now face-to-face with the two people who could read you way too easily.
Your mouth opened before your brain could catch up.
“It’s nothing, I just—” You forced a small shrug. “Something back home. Family stuff.”
It was the first lie that came to mind.
A bad one. A transparent one.
Robin’s eyebrows pulled together immediately — the exact expression of that’s bullshit and you know I know it — but she didn’t call you out. Not yet.
Instead, she shifted her books aside a little as you slid into the seat next to her, pulling your notebook from your backpack
“Family stuff,” Robin repeated softly, like she was tasting the words. Then, after a beat: “Okay.”
Just okay. No push.No interrogation.
But when you looked up, she was still watching you — head tilted, concern written all across her face. The kind she tried to hide but never could.
One last searching look.
Then she turned back to her textbook, highlighter uncapped again, like she’d made the conscious decision to let you lie if you needed to.
You exhaled slowly, staring down at your blank notebook page, willing your thoughts to quiet enough to focus.
Across from you, Steve shifted.
You felt it before you looked at him — the way the air tightened, the way your skin prickled with awareness. When you finally lifted your eyes, his were already on you.
Not sharp. Not cold.
Just… watching you.
Something unreadable flickered across his face. Restraint, maybe. Guilt. Curiosity. All of it tangled up in a way you couldn’t decode.
Steve’s gaze dipped to your hands — still trembling slightly as you gripped your pen — and his jaw flexed. Subtly. But you noticed.
Then, almost as if remembering he wasn’t supposed to look at you like that, he tore his stare away and leaned back over his notebook, pen moving again.
Robin didn’t notice a thing.
Which was shocking, honestly — she noticed when you blinked too hard. But she stayed buried in her notes, humming softly under her breath, oblivious to the charged string stretched tight across the table between you and Steve.
You tried to swallow it down.Tried to focus on homework.Tried to pretend your pulse wasn’t skipping every time Steve shifted or breathed or clicked his pen.
The tension wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t dramatic. It just… lived there. Quiet. Constant. Unseen by anyone but the two of you.
BAR & POOL—
The bar was buzzing but not crowded, lit in that warm amber glow that made everything look softer, safer. Classic rock thrummed low from the speakers, the air smelling faintly of beer and citrus cleaner.
Nancy was lining up her shot at the pool table, tongue peeking out in concentration. Robin hovered beside her, offering wildly unhelpful commentary, and Gareth was already three drinks in, insisting he absolutely knew how geometry worked.
You and Steve stood a few feet from them — close enough to talk, far enough to look casual. Neutral. Safe.
He had one hand in his pocket, bottle in the other, thumb tapping the glass in a rhythm that was supposed to look relaxed but didn’t. Not to you.
“So… earlier,” Steve said quietly, like he wasn’t sure he should bring it up.
You didn’t answer right away. You were already on edge, not from him, but from the unresolved mess sitting between Eddie’s words and your silence.
You opened your mouth—
And then the bell above the bar door rang sharply as it swung open.A rush of cool night air cut through the warmth of the room.
Since the pool table sat near the entrance, all of you instinctively turned toward the sound — Robin mid-laugh, Nancy with her cue still raised, Steve stiffening just beside you.
Everyone was looking to see if Eddie would actually show.
Then—your stomach dropped.
Eddie.
He didn’t walk in. He arrived. Shoulders loose, hands in his jacket pockets, curls wild from the night air. He scanned the room with a casual sweep—
And froze the moment his eyes landed on you and Steve standing there together.
His posture changed almost imperceptibly.Chest lifting. Chin tipping. A split-second stiffening of his jaw before he smoothed it over with— A chuckle. A slow one. A knowing one.
A dangerous one.
Then he started to make his way over while smiling — that sly, lazy, sharp-edged smirk you’d learned meant trouble.
“Hey,” Gareth called out, “The man of the hour!”
Eddie didn’t look at him.He walked closer, boots thudding softly against the floor, stopping on the opposite side of the pool table. Arms crossing over his chest. His rings gleamed under the bar lights.
His eyes stayed locked on you and Steve.
Steve adjusted his stance, a tiny shift — not defensive, but definitely bracing. You swallowed hard, heat prickling the back of your neck.
“Munson,” Steve greeted, voice steady but lower than usual.
Eddie tilted his head slightly, grin widening without any warmth reaching his eyes.
“Well, well,” he said, drawl slow and amused. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting anything.”
Your stomach twisted.
“We weren’t—” you started, but Eddie lifted one eyebrow, stopping you mid-sentence. That eyebrow said I wasn’t asking for an explanation… but I’m definitely listening for one.
Robin and Nancy exchanged a glance across the table — one that said ohhhh boy. Gareth, oblivious, sank a shot and cheered.
Steve cleared his throat, trying for casual. “Just talking.”
“Mm.” Eddie’s gaze flicked to Steve’s bottle, then back to you, then to the tiny bit of space between you both. “Looked like it.”
The tone wasn’t angry. Or jealous. Or cold. It was worse.
It was… entertained.
He uncrossed his arms just long enough to shove his hands into his pockets,— confident, collected, and absolutely in control of the moment.
You felt it.
Steve definitely felt it.
Eddie lifted his chin at you, eyes narrowing just a hair. “You gonna come say hi,” he asked softly, “or you planning on staying over there all night?”
Not a threat and Not exactly a question.
A line.Drawn clear in the space between the three of you.
You flicked a quick glance at Steve. His brows lifted just slightly, enough to say it’s fine.
“Go,” he murmured, soft and steady.
That tiny smile he gave you—meant to reassure—only made your stomach twist tighter.
You mirrored it, barely, before turning toward Eddie.
He’d already opened one arm like he expected a neat little side hug.
But the second you stepped into it, his arm locked around your waist—pulling you fully against his chest. No room. No distance. No mistaking it.
His breath hit your ear before his words did.
“So that’s what this is?” he murmured, voice low enough that no one could possibly overhear. “You missed talking to him that much? Hm?”
Your spine went rigid before you could stop it.
Eddie’s hold tightened, subtle but unmistakable—his arms heavy across your back, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. He wasn’t hugging you. He was waiting you out.
You swallowed. “It wasn’t like that,” you whispered, barely audible.
He felt the shake of your head against his shoulder. Slowly—painfully slowly—he let out a laugh. Not loud. Not amused.
Disbelieving.
“I don’t believe you,” he whispered back, smile cutting sharp against your temple.
Your breath caught. “Eddie—”
“Mmhm,” he hummed over you, like your denial was nothing more than background sound. His fingers brushed your spine once, almost comforting—almost. “Sure.”
Then—just as suddenly as he pulled you in—he let you go.
Clean break. Like you burned him or didn’t affect him at all. Except you felt the temperature of the room shift around the two of you.
Eddie stepped back one pace, slow, controlled, his face unreadable except for the faint curl of his lip.
“Good to see you too,” he said lightly.
Too lightly.
Nancy and Gareth were still playing. Robin didn’t look over.
He drifted around you casually, like he had nowhere specific to be, nowhere specific to press.But every step he took had intent. He brushed your waist lightly with his finger as he passed.
Innocent touch.
Not innocent meaning.
“Anyone need a drink?” he called out, voice bright, friendly, absolutely fucking with the air in the room.
Robin, oblivious, lifted her empty cup. “Yeah! The fruity one! The— the berry something—”
“Gotcha.” Eddie grinned and moved toward the bar, glancing back at you right before turning his head.
A silent dare. A silent you coming?
You hesitated only a second before moving after him.
Just one second—
but it was enough for him to feel it.
He was only a few steps ahead when he stopped completely, turning his head slightly, waiting.
Not impatient.
Not annoyed.
Just… expectant.
Like he knew you’d come.
Like he wanted to see that you would.
When you caught up, he slipped an arm across your shoulders naturally, tugging you into his side like it was the easiest thing in the world.
But his fingers gripped your arm—not tight, just firm.
Claiming without looking like he was claiming.
You tried to ignore the heat that climbed your neck.
The two of you reached the bar, noisy and dim with neon shine, and you placed your hands on the counter.
Before you could even settle, Eddie moved behind you.
His front brushed your back—deliberate. His hands slid down from your shoulders to your waist—slow.
And then he pulled you flush against him from behind, arms wrapped completely around your middle.
He dipped his head. And pressed a soft, slow kiss to the side of your neck.
For a second, the rest of the bar dissolved.Then, in a voice low enough for only you to hear, he murmured:
“I’m sorry.”
You turned immediately. Your back pressed against the edge of the bar, your fingers curling around it for anchor.
You stared up at him, eyes wide, disbelief written across your face. “I don’t understand why you get like this,” you said, voice breaking somewhere between frustration and exhaustion.
Eddie straightened just enough to really look at you.His eyes sharpened—dark, serious, unflinching. He tilted his head slightly, curls falling around his cheekbones, and you felt his grip loosen around your waist just so he could speak clearly.
“You know why,” he said. Flat. Certain. And it hit like a weight. You shook your head hard.
“No, I don’t.”
Before he could answer, the bartender slid into your peripheral vision with a tired, polite, “What can I get you two?”
Eddie didn’t take his eyes off you as he spoke.
“Two beers,” he said first, tone still low, still coiled.
“And a Tripple Berry.” The bartender nodded and stepped away.
You were suddenly very aware of Eddie again—too close, too warm, too wrapped around your nerves. He leaned in, much softer this time, like he was shifting tactics. His hands came up to your waist again, thumbs brushing the fabric of your shirt, grounding you.
Then he dipped forward and brushed a slow, gentle peck against your lips.Barely a kiss. But enough to make your heart move in your chest.
When he pulled back, he stayed close—breath mixing with yours, eyes heavy and searching. The bar noise blurred.The neon lights flickered across his face.
And Eddie Munson looked at you like he was trying to read everything you weren’t saying.
The night doesn’t fall apart.
It should have — after the bar-entrance tension, the passive-aggressive looks, the almost-fight in the air — but somehow it smooths into something deceptively normal.
Everyone keeps drinking. Laughing. Playing badly at pool. Except you’re aware of Eddie the entire time.
The way he tracks you when you step away for napkins. The way his hand curls around your hip to move you gently out of Steve’s path. The way he bumps his shoulder into yours as if to remind you he’s there.
Always there.
Eventually Robin calls for another round, Gareth complains about losing twice in a row, and Nancy suggests music that’s definitely too old for all of you.
It’s easy and loud and warm. But Eddie doesn’t leave your side for more than a breath.
Not after everything. Not tonight.
When people finally start winding down — coats pulled on, tabs closing — Eddie grabs your jacket before you can reach for it.
He holds it open for you. You slide in, and he smooths the shoulders into place like it’s instinct, like he’s done it a hundred times.
You open your mouth to thank him—
But Eddie steps closer. So close the bar noise fades behind him. So close you can smell the soft mint on his breath. His hands come up, one cupping your cheek, the other brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
His voice drops low, tender in a way that makes your chest tighten: “I’m sorry about earlier.”
The words hit harder than any accusation could’ve.
You swallow. “It’s fine—”
“No,” he cuts in gently, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “Don’t give me that. You shut down on me. And I… I didn’t handle it right.”
Your breath catches. His eyes soften — molten brown in the dim bar light.
“I just…” he exhales, forehead dipping to yours, noses barely brushing. “I don’t wanna lose this. I don’t wanna lose you.”
A quiet confessional disguised as vulnerability. A stitched-up apology wrapped in something warmer, needier..
Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt without meaning to. “Eddie…” you whisper.
He shakes his head like he can’t help himself and leans in —
kissing you slow, deep, deliberate. A claiming kiss. A soft one. A kiss that says I know exactly how to pull you back to me.
When he breaks away, he takes your hand in his, threading your fingers together like they always belonged that way.
“Let’s go,” he says softly.
Not an order. Not a question.Just certainty.
You let him lead you out of the bar, your hand in his, the night cold around you but his touch impossibly warm —
the perfect, intoxicating end to a day that was anything but simple.
Summary: After a summer away, you return to Hawkins changed — confident, magnetic, impossible for Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson to ignore. A simple movie night spirals into a charged game of truths, buried confessions, and a rivalry that turns dangerously intimate.
WORDCOUNT: 7.9k
WARNINGS: 18+, drugs, alcohol, unprotected, swearing, p in v, mutual pining, somewhat inspired by the movie challengers, oral! f recieving, overstim! overall a dirty, why choose type fic, dirty, sweaty fic, I'm going to hell
When you pushed open the door to Family Video, the bell chimed the same way it always had, but Steve’s head snapped up like it never had before.
He went still behind the counter, VHS half-rewound in his hands. His eyes dragged from your hair—sun-lightened in streaks—to the woven bracelet on your wrist, to the way your tank top showed a little more tanned shoulder than last year. He blinked once, twice, forgetting completely about the tape clicking in protest beneath his fingers.
Eddie was already in the aisle, flipping through a stack of horror movies he insisted Family Video “criminally underappreciated.” When he glanced up and saw you, his smirk faltered for a heartbeat. His gaze tracked the same subtle changes—stronger posture, surer steps, shorts that actually fit differently because you carried yourself differently. His fingers went slack around the tape in his hands, and it slipped, hitting the floor with a slap.
“Uh—hi,” Steve said, voice doing a strange, soft dip he immediately tried to mask with a clearing of his throat. He brushed a hand through his hair, suddenly attentive, suddenly careful. “You, uh… back in town?”
Eddie leaned casually on the end of the shelf, arms crossing—but the movement was off, like he was stalling for time. His eyes lingered a fraction too long on the sun-kissed skin at your collarbone. “Didn’t think we’d see you ‘til next week,” he said, but there was something else beneath it—something edged with surprise and something dangerously close to awe.
You smiled, small but real. “Got home early.”
Steve straightened slightly. Eddie’s jaw flexed.
You drifted toward the shelves, and they drifted too, almost unconsciously, one on each side. Steve hovered at your right, always a half-step closer than he used to be, as if drawn in. Eddie slid into place on your left, gaze flicking to your face whenever he thought you weren’t looking.
“A whole summer and no phone call?” Eddie breathed.
You glanced at him, amused. “Didn’t know you were waiting by the phone.”
His lips twitched, like he wanted to grin but couldn’t quite get there. “Yeah, well… maybe I was.”
Steve shot him a look over your shoulder—half glare, half something more unsettled—before shifting a little closer, close enough that his arm brushed yours as he reached for a random VHS on the shelf. The movement looked casual, but the way he angled his body toward you wasn’t.
“You were busy,” Steve said, trying to keep his tone easy, unaffected. “Camp counsellor stuff. Kids. Bugs. Whatever.” He shrugged, but his jaw worked once, betraying him. “Didn’t think you’d have time to call.”
“Doesn’t mean you didn’t want her to,” Eddie muttered, too quiet for anyone but you and Steve to catch.
Steve stiffened, but didn’t rise to it.
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pretending not to feel the way both of them watched the motion. “There wasn’t much time,” you admitted. “Long days. Later nights.”
Eddie’s brows lifted, something sparking in his eyes. “Sounds… eventful.”
“It was work,” you said, though the way their attention sharpened told you they’d heard more in your voice than you intended.
Steve suddenly spoke up, a little too quickly. “You look—” He stopped, cleared his throat, then tried again, softer. “You look good. You look… happy.”
Eddie rolled a ring on his finger, studying you with an intensity that warmed your skin. “Yeah. Different,” he said, but not like it was a bad thing. “In a good way.”
You didn’t miss the way they both angled in, almost subtly enough to pretend it wasn’t happening. Almost.
Their rivalry didn’t flare outward—no jabs, no immediate sniping. Instead, it simmered, silent and electric, in the way Steve shifted closer as you reached for another movie, and in the way Eddie’s gaze followed the movement of your hand like it was something he hadn’t seen before.
The tension didn’t feel like it belonged to the old versions of them—the boys you’d left behind in June. This was newer, heavier. Rooted in the way you’d walked back into the store with a confidence you didn’t have when you left.
And they felt it.
Steve nudged your elbow gently. “So,” he asked, trying for casual but not getting there, “you picking something for the night? Or just teasing us with your presence?”
Eddie huffed a laugh. “She’s been gone a whole summer, Harrington. Let her take her time.”
You pretended to study the back of a VHS box, but the truth was you needed a second. Their attention—so focused, so deliberate—felt different than before. Before the summer, Steve would’ve flirted lazily, half-heartedly. Eddie would’ve joked his way around you, loud and exaggerated. But now?
Now it felt like they were both trying to catch up to the version of you standing in front of them.
You slid the tape back onto the shelf and stepped down the aisle. Footsteps followed immediately—Steve’s longer stride on your right, Eddie’s lighter one on your left. You didn’t have to look to know. You could feel them.
“So what are you in the mood for?” Steve asked, voice low, almost hopeful. His hand hovered near the small of your back but didn’t quite touch, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.
“Besides our company, obviously,” Eddie added, smirking, though it didn’t touch his eyes. Those were still studying you too closely, like you were a song he’d heard before but didn’t understand until now.
You rolled your eyes, but it came out softer than intended. “I came here for a movie, not interrogation.”
“Can’t it be both?” Eddie said.
Steve looked at him. “That’s not—” He cut himself off, exhaling, then looked at you. “We just… missed you.”
The words hung between the three of you, startling in their honesty.
Eddie’s shoulders slumped a fraction, as if he hated that Steve said it first but couldn’t disagree. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It was weird without you.”
You swallowed, suddenly warm all over. The room felt smaller, or maybe the two of them were just standing closer.
“I was only gone for a couple months,” you said, but the protest was thin, brittle around the edges.
“Long enough,” Eddie replied.
Steve’s gaze softened. “Long enough to come back different.”
You froze.
Eddie’s voice dropped, gentler than you’d ever heard it. “Long enough for us to notice.”
You opened your mouth, not sure what would come out, but before you could speak, Dustin’s voice carried from the front of the store.
“Hey, Steve! Did you finish rewinding—oh.” His steps slowed, eyes darting between all three of you. “Um. Am I interrupting something?”
Steve jumped back an entire step. Eddie straightened so fast he nearly knocked over a display.
You blinked, heat still buzzing under your skin.
“No,” Steve said.
“Yes,” Eddie said.
They glared at each other.
Dustin squinted. “Right. Okay. Well… good to have you back,” he said to you, still suspicious, before wandering off.
Silence settled again, but it wasn’t awkward. It was… charged.
You met their eyes, one then the other. “You two seriously need to relax.”
“Not sure that’s possible at the moment,” Steve said, almost under his breath.
Eddie smirked, but it came out softer this time. “Yeah, sweetheart. You kinda ruined that the second you walked in.”
You laughed under your breath, heat rising again. “I’m just here for a movie. That’s all.”
“That’s perfect,” Steve said immediately, stepping in before Eddie could. “We could—uh—hang out tonight. If you want.” He cleared his throat, staring very hard at the VHS rack. “Catch up. Since you’ve been gone.”
Eddie scoffed softly. “Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth. But if anyone’s hanging out with her tonight, it’s me. I’ve actually got the night free.”
Steve turned, eyebrows lifting sharply. “So do I.”
Eddie blinked innocently. “Crazy coincidence.”
“You don’t believe in coincidences,” Steve muttered.
“Not when you’re around, man.”
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your mouth. “Guys—”
“So what do you want to do?” Steve cut in, too eager to hide. “We could watch whatever you pick. Order pizza. Or I could cook—”
Eddie burst out laughing. “Cook? You? Come on, Harrington, don’t torture her on her first night back.”
“Oh, and you ordering the greasiest pizza in town is a better welcome?”
“At least it’s edible!”
They were facing each other fully now, squared off like they were ready to throw down in the middle of the romance section. Dustin peeked from behind a standee, then retreated instantly.
You let them go for a few seconds—long enough to watch the tension ping between them, jealousy and posturing and something else beneath it.
Then you cleared your throat. Loudly.
Both froze mid-argument and snapped their attention back to you.
“Okay,” you said slowly, “how about this?”
Two heads tilted, almost identical in expectation.
“You both come over.”
Their reactions were immediate and wildly different—
Eddie brightened, eyes going wide and thrilled.
Steve blinked, startled, then stood a little taller.
“Wait—both of us?” Steve asked, almost cautiously.
“If you don’t want to hang out then—” you started.
“No,” Steve cut in. “I want to. Yeah. Definitely.”
Eddie grinned like he’d already won something. “Sounds like a party to me.”
“It’s not a party,” you corrected. “It’s a movie.”
“Movie party,” Eddie said.
“Movie night,” Steve insisted.
They glared again.
You shook your head, biting back a laugh. “Jesus. You two can fight about what to call it later. Just show up.”
“When?” Steve asked.
“Eight?” you offered.
“Seven-thirty,” Eddie countered instantly, raising his brows at Steve like ‘Try to beat that, king.’
Steve rolled his eyes. “Seven-thirty is fine.”
You looked between them, warmth pooling in your chest—because despite the bickering, despite the tension, they both looked genuinely excited. A little nervous, too.
Like they were afraid to mess this up.
“Seven-thirty,” you confirmed.
At 7:28, your living room was quiet.
At 7:29, you heard two engines outside at the exact same time.
You peeked through the window and had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
Steve’s BMW glided to a stop at the curb, sleek and polished like he’d spent the whole afternoon detailing it.
Eddie’s van rumbled in right beside it, loud and unapologetic, stereo still vibrating faintly through the closed doors.
They stared at each other through their windshields.
Neither moved.
You could practically feel the standoff from inside.
Eddie was the first to climb out, boots hitting the pavement with a thud. He had a grocery bag dangling from one hand, something clinking faintly inside—probably not anything responsible.
Steve exited his car a half-second after, almost like he refused to let Eddie have the first step. He held a pizza box and a six-pack of sodas, everything balanced neatly like he’d practised walking with it.
Eddie eyed the pizza.
Steve eyed the bag.
“What’s in there?” Steve asked, nodding toward Eddie’s hand.
Eddie smirked. “Hospitality.”
“That’s alcohol,” Steve said flatly.
“That’s hospitality,” Eddie corrected, lifting the bag.
Steve lifted the pizza box in response. “At least I brought real food.”
Eddie scoffed. “Pizza isn’t food, Harrington. It’s a peace offering.”
Steve frowned. “Peace offering for what?”
Eddie grinned, leaning back against the van. “You’ll see.”
You swung open the front door before they could escalate.
Both turned instantly, straightening like two boys caught doing something much worse than showing up too early.
“You’re…” you looked at the clock behind you, “…early.”
“Seven-thirty sharp,” Steve said, holding up the pizza like a trophy.
“It’s seven-twenty-nine,” Eddie pointed out.
“And we arrived at seven-twenty-nine,” Steve shot back.
Eddie spread his free hand, triumphant. “Which is early.”
Steve’s jaw tightened. “Which is punctual.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Guys.”
Both fell silent.
You stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
They moved at the same time, shoulder to shoulder, each trying not to be the one who stepped through first. It would’ve been funny if the air between them—and you—didn’t hum with something warm and electric.
You pretended not to notice the way they subtly jockeyed for position, each trying to walk closer to you as you led them inside.
They followed you into the kitchen—Steve a quiet, controlled presence at your right, Eddie practically vibrating with unspent energy at your left. They set their offerings down on the counter at the same time, and the soft clatter of glass against cardboard echoed in the small space.
Eddie’s bag chimed as he loosened his grip, bottles knocking together.
Steve’s pizza box landed neatly beside it, perfectly squared with the edge of the counter because of course it was.
You reached up to open a cabinet, your red cami stretching just slightly with the motion, denim shorts catching the warm kitchen light. The air was thick with late-summer heat, heavy and slow. You didn’t notice their silence at first—too focused on getting glasses down—but you felt it.
Two sets of eyes. Both were very aware of what you were wearing. Both trying not to make it obvious.
Eddie recovered first, because of course he did. He cleared his throat, snagged a bottle from the grocery bag, and popped the cap with a flick of his thumb against the countertop.
“You want one?” he asked, holding the beer out to you, the bottle sweating in his ringed fingers.
You turned toward him, brow raised. “Already?”
He grinned, leaning his hip against the counter. “What? It’s movie night. Movies go better with beer. Besides—” His gaze dipped, just for a second, tracing the line of your bare legs before snapping back up with a flash of teeth. “—it’s hot as hell in here.”
Steve shot him a look, sharp but silent. When his eyes drifted to you, though—well, the silence made sense. He swallowed once, subtle gaze flicking from the curve of your shoulder to the hem of your shorts before he caught himself and straightened.
“She doesn’t have to drink,” Steve said, a little too quickly. “There’s soda. Water. Whatever you want.”
You smirked, fingers brushing the beer Eddie still held out. “Relax, Steve. I can make my own choices.”
Eddie’s brows shot up, triumphant. Steve’s jaw clenched, not at you—but at the way Eddie’s grin widened.
You took the beer.
Warmth flickered across Eddie’s face, genuine and bright for a second before he masked it with a shrug. “Knew you missed drinking with me,” he teased.
“Don’t push it,” you said, but your smile softened the words.
Steve busied himself with the pizza, lifting the lid and checking it as if it needed inspection. “We should eat before the movie,” he murmured, not looking at either of you. But the tips of his ears flushed pink—betrayal of where his mind had been a moment ago.
You stepped between them to grab plates, feeling the temperature spike again as they instinctively shifted closer, one on each side, as opposing magnets pulled toward the same point.
ou balanced the plates in your hands and stepped out of the thick kitchen air. “Alright,” you called, “let’s pick something before you two start wrestling over who gets the front seat of the couch.”
Eddie snorted.
Steve didn’t deny it—though he shot Eddie a look that said he absolutely would wrestle him if pressed.
You knelt in front of the TV stand and opened the cabinet full of your VHS tapes. The familiar dusty-plastic smell wafted out as you flipped through the cases, hearing their footsteps behind you—two separate rhythms falling into the same orbit.
They crouched down beside you without a word—Steve on your right, Eddie on your left, like it was muscle memory.
You grabbed a worn VHS and held it up.
“This one.”
Both leaned in at the exact same moment—and immediately froze when their foreheads almost collided in front of you.
Eddie blinked once, eyes sparkling as soon as he read the title. “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.” He gave a low whistle. “You’re telling me you came back cooler?”
Steve straightened slightly, clearing his throat. “You rented that the day before you left,” he said, quieter. “You were halfway through when you realized you hadn’t packed.” He met your eyes. “You never finished it.”
Your heart flickered at the fact he remembered that detail.
Before you could react, you stood and slid the tape into the VCR. It clicked and whirred, swallowing the film with a mechanical hum. Behind you, neither of them moved, both rooted to the rug like they’d forgotten how to stand.
You turned, catching the split-second moment where Steve’s gaze swept from your red cami to your exposed legs, then away—quick, guilty. Eddie didn’t look away quite as fast.
You pretended not to notice.
Eddie recovered first, pushing up from the floor in a single fluid motion. He made a beeline for the couch, sprawling across one end like he owned the place, long legs dangling off the side, arm thrown over the backrest in blatant invitation.
Steve rose more carefully, smoothing the front of his jeans, posture neat and controlled even as something bright and sharp flickered through his eyes. He settled at the opposite end of the couch, sitting upright, polite—overly polite.
You stood in front of them with your arms crossed lightly. “You two done turning everything into a competition?”
“No,” Eddie said.
“Yes,” Steve said.
Another glare exchanged.
You sighed. “Then scoot.”
They both blinked.
“Scoot,” you repeated, pointing at the space between them. “I’m not picking sides.”
Steve moved immediately, pressing himself flush to his end of the couch to give you space. Eddie grumbled but shifted too, though his arm remained draped over the back—territorial in a lazy sort of way.
You sat between them, the couch dipping under your weight. The contact was immediate—your thigh brushing Steve’s, your shoulder grazing Eddie’s.
Steve froze for half a beat before exhaling.
Eddie’s breath hitched, almost inaudibly.
The opening credits flashed across the screen: dirt roads, heat haze, a radio reporter’s grim tone bleeding through the speakers.
Eddie grinned. “Great choice, sweetheart.”
Steve gave a soft laugh under his breath. “Could’ve picked something lighthearted, you know.”
“You scared, Harrington?” Eddie teased.
“Of course not,” Steve lied, too quickly.
You settled back, taking a sip of your beer as leatherface’s shadow filled the screen.
Neither of them looked at the movie yet.
They were both looking at you.
The credits rolled in a wash of distorted sound and static, Leatherface’s last wild spin fading into the hum of your VCR. The room was dim now, lit only by the soft lamp on your side table and the flicker of the screen going blue. Six empty beer bottles crowded your coffee table—three different brands, because of course Steve and Eddie refused to drink the same thing without a debate.
Eddie let out a satisfied sigh, slumping deeper into the couch. “God, I forgot how fun that one is.”
Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, cheeks flushed just a little from the alcohol. “Fun is one word.”
Eddie nudged him with his foot. “Don’t pretend you didn’t jump at the chainsaw scene.”
“I didn’t jump.”
“You did, Harrington. Whole couch moved.”
“You kicked it, man!”
You laughed, stretching lazily, and both men fell quiet mid-bicker, their eyes sliding toward you like they couldn’t help it. Your red cami had slipped slightly off one shoulder, your hair mussed from leaning into the cushions, your legs folded beneath you in those barely-there summer shorts.
Outside, the chorus of cicadas buzzed the humid August evening back in. Inside, the air was thick—beer-warm, hazy with the kind of tension that didn’t fade even after a two-hour horror movie.
Steve glanced at the time but didn’t stand. Eddie drummed his fingers on his knee, restless but not leaving either. Neither of them made a move for the door, and you didn’t want them to.
“So…” you said slowly, “do you guys need to go?”
Both spoke at once.
“No.” – Steve
“Hell no.” – Eddie
You bit back a smile. “Good. Because I’m not ready for the night to end.”
Their attention snapped to you—sharp, alert, heat blooming behind their eyes in real time. Eddie’s tongue flicked across his bottom lip. Steve’s breath caught, barely audible.
You stood, grabbing the empty bottles as an excuse to move. They both rose too quickly, as if afraid you might disappear if they didn’t keep up. You set the bottles on the counter, wiped your hands on a dish towel, and then tipped your head toward the stairs.
“Come on,” you said, a soft dare threading through your voice.
“We can listen to music.”
A beat passed.
Eddie was the first to respond, expression slipping into something hungry-sweet. “Upstairs?”
Steve’s swallow echoed in the quiet kitchen. “Your… room?”
“You two scared to leave the living room?” you teased lightly.
Steve blinked, straightening. “No.”
Eddie grinned crookedly. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”
You did.
Feet padding softly on the stairs, denim brushing warm skin, the house settling into late-night stillness.
Behind you, their footsteps followed—Eddie’s uneven, impatient rhythm; Steve’s steady but just a little too quick. You didn’t have to look back to know they were watching you climb—watching the sway of your hips, the curve of your spine outlined by the red cami, the bare stretch of your legs still tinged with summer.
When you pushed open your bedroom door, Steve exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. Eddie looked around with open curiosity, eyes flicking over the posters, the tangle of books, the Polaroids on your corkboard.
But mostly, they looked at you.
You crossed to your small stereo, flipping through a stack of cassette tapes until you found one with a cracked case and handwritten label. You slid it in, pressed play, and warm, slow, hazy music filled the room—something with a pulse, something that made the hot summer night feel even heavier.
Eddie let out a low hum. “Good taste.”
Steve’s gaze softened. “Really good.”
You sat down on the edge of your bed. They stood there for a moment—uncertain, waiting, the electricity practically vibrating off both of them.
Then you patted the mattress beside you.
“Sit,” you said.
They did.
One on each side, like magnets pulled to the same point.
The bed dipped beneath their weight, the three of you close—closer than the couch ever allowed.
Music throbbed softly through the room.
Heat pooled low in your stomach.
The air between the three of you crackled with the exact kind of intensity you’d never admit you’d fantasized about.
Eddie’s knee brushed yours.
Steve’s arm rested behind you, fingers grazing your shoulder blade.
Neither pulled away.
You tipped your head back, listening to the music, letting the moment swell.
Eddie leaned back on his palms, foot bouncing to the slow pulse of the music humming through your room. Steve sat on your other side, closer than before, but trying hard not to appear like he was competing for space on your bed — even though he absolutely was.
The heat of the night made everything feel softer at the edges, edged with that warm, tipsy glow. Laughter lingered in the air. So did things unsaid.
You took a slow sip from the last of your beer, feeling their eyes on you even in the dim light.
“Hey, Eddie?”
Your voice was low — careful, but teasing.
He perked up immediately. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
You traced your thumb around the rim of the bottle.
“Are you still selling Molly?”
Steve’s head whipped toward you so fast you heard the bedsprings shift.
Eddie blinked once… twice… then let out the kind of laugh that was all breath and disbelief.
“Well,” he said, running a hand over his mouth, “I didn’t exactly have ‘camp counselor sweetheart asking about party favors’ on my bingo card tonight.”
Steve stared at you, brows furrowed. “Why are you asking that?”
You shrugged, light and easy — but your eyes were anything but.
“I dunno.” Your voice dipped. “Thought it could be… interesting. For all of us to loosen up.”
You looked between them — two boys who once absolutely would’ve tried to impress you by saying yes without hesitation.
But now?
Now they looked older. Softer. Protective in a way that made heat curl low in your stomach.
“I didn’t know you two had gotten so responsible,” you teased, nudging Eddie’s knee with yours.
“You bring out weird things in people,” Eddie said with a crooked smile.
Steve nodded once. “Weird good things.”
You leaned back on your elbows, music pulsing slow through the room, brushing both their shoulders with your arms.
“So,” you murmured, eyes sliding between them, “you’re telling me you don’t have any?”
Eddie’s eyes glittered.
“Oh, I didn’t say that.”
—
The three of you sat in a loose circle, backs resting against the side of the bed, legs tangled in whatever direction felt natural. The room glowed in amber light from your nightstand lamp. The cicadas hummed outside. One of Eddie's rings lay abandoned on the carpet between you all, lost in a fit of laughter twenty minutes earlier.
All of your pupils looked wider, your smiles easier, your limbs looser—as if the whole world had exhaled and so had you.
Eddie leaned back on his palms, head tipped to one side as he looked between you and Steve with a lazy, lopsided grin.
“I haven’t felt this… floaty in forever,” he sighed, kicking lightly at Steve’s ankle.
Steve nudged him back with a laugh that sounded freer than anything you'd heard from him in years. His hair had fallen over his forehead, his cheeks warm, his posture loose in a way Steve Harrington’s never was.
Eddie traced invisible shapes on the carpet with his finger. “This is nice,” he murmured.
Steve glanced at him, surprised. “You admitting that hanging out with me is nice?”
“I said this”—Eddie gestured vaguely to the three of you—“not you specifically, Harrington. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
But the smile tugging at his mouth ruined the jab.
Steve scoffed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. Still nice.”
The way he looked at you on the last word made your breath hitch.
You leaned back against your hands, head tipping up toward the ceiling. “I’m glad you both came tonight.”
Two soft, near-simultaneous inhales hit the quiet at once.
Eddie leaned closer, boots squeaking lightly on the carpet. “Yeah?”
Steve shifted too, knee brushing yours. “Yeah?”
Your gaze flicked between them—two boys sitting far too close, shoulders relaxed, eyes wide and bright and focused entirely on you. Everything about them buzzed with the same warm looseness that thrummed under your skin.
“Yeah,” you breathed.
The quiet between the three of you was warm, loose, stretched thin like something waiting to snap. Music fluttered softly from your stereo, the kind of hazy, nostalgic melody that made everything feel heavier and lighter at the same time.
Eddie flopped backward dramatically, arms out. “Okay. Okay. If we just sit here staring at each other any longer, I’m gonna explode.”
Steve snorted. “You’re always about two minutes from exploding.”
Eddie pointed at him without lifting his head. “Exactly. Hence—game time.”
Your brows lifted. “Game time?”
Eddie sat up again, eyes sparkling. “Truths.”
Steve groaned, but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. “Oh, great. That’s not a recipe for disaster or anything.”
“It’s perfect,” Eddie insisted. “We’re all—” he waved a hand vaguely, “—relaxed.”
You laughed. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
Eddie clapped once. “Rules are simple: you ask a truth, everyone answers. No lying. No skipping.”
Steve looked at him suspiciously. “You came up with this way too fast.”
Eddie grinned, tapping his temple. “Chaos brain, Harrington.”
You tucked your legs under you. “Okay then. Who starts?”
There was one beat—
two—
and then Steve, cheeks still faintly flushed, leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“I will.”
Eddie snorted. “Of course you will, King Steve.”
But Steve didn’t take the bait.
He looked at you.
Then at Eddie.
Something bold flickering behind his eyes.
“Alright,” he said, and then—without hesitation—
“When did you lose your virginity?”
Eddie choked on absolutely nothing.
You blinked. Hard.
“Whoa,” Eddie coughed. “We said truths, man, not biography chapter titles.”
Steve shrugged, trying and failing to look casual. “It’s not that intense. It’s just a question.”
“It’s very intense,” Eddie said.
You lifted your brows. “You asked it, Harrington. You answer first.”
Steve went still.
You watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way his fingers picked at the hem of his jeans, the way he didn’t look away from either of you.
Then, quietly—honest in a way that felt disarming—
“Junior year,” he said. “Prom night.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “God, of course it was prom night.”
Steve shot him a look. “We’re playing truth or truth, Munson. That’s the truth.”
Eddie grinned, leaning back on his palms. “Alright, my turn then. I—” He blew out a breath. “—was a sophomore. Mutual decision. Wasn’t dramatic. Wasn’t romantic either, but… it was good.”
Steve nodded, surprisingly gentle. “Cool.”
Both of them turned to you.
Your heartbeat thudded in your ears.
Their pupils were wide—not from anything chemical, but from proximity, from the beer, from the night, from you.
Eddie tilted his head, a grin on his face. “What about you, sweetheart?”
Steve’s voice was softer. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Eddie elbowed him. “No skipping!”
“You didn’t let her decline,” Steve reminded him sharply.
You exhaled slowly, feeling their attention like heat on your skin. Eddie looked over at you knowingly.
You exhaled slowly, feeling their attention like heat on your skin. Eddie looked over at you knowingly — too knowingly — the corner of his mouth curling like he already suspected the answer and was waiting for you to confirm it.
You drew a line on the carpet with your fingertip, pretending to think. “Mine was… sophomore year too.”
Steve blinked. Eddie froze.
You lifted your eyes to Eddie — just briefly, just enough.
“Mutual decision,” you added quietly. “Not dramatic. Not romantic.” A beat passed.” But good.”
Eddie’s grin faltered — not in discomfort, but in recognition. His lips parted just slightly, his breath catching as if he’d been shoved backwards into a memory he’d boxed up years ago.
Steve looked between you two, eyebrows pulling together. “Wait… what?”
Eddie didn’t look away from you. Didn’t blink.Didn’t breathe.
Your smile was small. Barely there.
But it was answer enough.
Steve’s eyes widened. “You two—? When—? Oh my god.”
Steve’s jaw dropped. “You slept with—? Eddie? Eddie Munson??”
Eddie lifted his hands. “Hey! Don’t say it like that! I can hear the question marks, Harrington!”
Steve stared at you, then back at Eddie. “Oh my god, you’ve been unhinged around her all night. This explains everything.”
Eddie’s ears went pink. “Been unhinged around her for years, man. Keep up.”
You nudged Eddie’s knee with your foot. “It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, voice softening, something warm flickering in his eyes. “But I remember it.”
Steve’s gaze snapped to Eddie, narrowed.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, man, the girl you’re trying so hard to impress? We hooked up once behind the school gym after a math test’? Didn’t seem relevant.”
Steve looked at you, cheeks flushed and jaw working, like he wasn’t sure how to process the new information — or his reaction to it.
You took pity on him, leaning back on your palms.
“It wasn’t a relationship,” you said softly. “Just… a moment. A good one.”
Eddie’s smile returned, softer, with that small ache tangled in it.
“A very good one.”
You fiddled with your beer bottle, staring at the amber glass — aware of Steve watching you, Eddie watching you, the two of them watching each other watching you.
The circle on the carpet suddenly felt smaller.
Tighter.
Hotter.
Steve swallowed hard. “Okay. Well.” He lifted his chin. “That was definitely a truth.”
Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “You started this, Harrington.”
“And I regret it immediately,” Steve muttered, though his eyes kept drifting back to you — as if this new knowledge had rearranged something inside him.
Your lips curled.
And you asked—
“Well, now that we’ve opened that door… who was your best kiss?” The air in the room changed. Both men went still. This game was no longer playful. It was personal.
Steve’s head lifted first.
Not defensively.
Not nervously.
But with a kind of quiet, startled courage — like he’d just realized something he couldn’t keep to himself anymore.
His eyes flicked to Eddie, then locked on you.
And in a voice low enough that the music barely covered it, he said:
“New Year’s Eve. ’84.”
Your breath hitched.
Eddie blinked. “What?”
Steve didn’t break eye contact with you.
“You kissed me at midnight,” he said softly, like it was a confession he’d been holding in for far too long. “Just a quick one. You’d been drinking Coke out of those red cups, and your lips were cold from being outside. You laughed right after, like it didn’t mean anything.”
His throat bobbed.
“But it did. To me.”
The room tilted — not from alcohol, not from heat or the drugs, but from the way Steve Harrington suddenly wasn’t hiding anymore.
You parted your lips to speak, but Eddie cut in, his voice rougher, tighter around the edges.
“Same night.”
You turned to him slowly, pulse pounding.
Eddie leaned forward on his hands, gaze intense, pupils huge.
“New Year’s Eve, ’84,” he said, breath shaky but controlled. “You kissed me too.”
Steve’s head snapped toward him. “What—?”
Eddie didn’t look away from you.
“It was later,” he went on, swallowing. “After midnight. After most people had left. You and I were standing behind Wheeler’s garage because you wanted air, and I…” He huffed a laugh that wasn’t quite amused. “I didn’t think you even knew my name back then.”
You did.
You always had.
“You were shivering,” Eddie continued, voice dipping low, “so I gave you my jacket. And you said—”
He broke off, eyes flickering over your face like he was afraid you’d deny it.
“You said I looked sad,” he murmured.
Your stomach twisted.
“You kissed me because you didn’t want me to start the new year feeling alone.”
Steve stared at you, blindsided. “You kissed him too?”
Eddie’s eyes never left yours.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She did.”
The room felt like it was vibrating — with truth, with want, with something deeper and older than you’d realized you’d been carrying with you for months… maybe years.
Your heart hammered.
“I didn’t…” You swallowed, breath unsteady. “I didn’t know it meant that much to either of you.”
Steve let out a shaky laugh. “It was my best kiss.”
Eddie leaned closer, elbows braced on his knees. “Mine too.”
And then, softer — a knife-edge of honesty:
“Still is.”
The words hung in the air —
Still is.
They landed like a spark in a dry field.
Steve inhaled sharply, as if he’d been punched in the ribs. You felt the world narrow to the space between the three of you, to the heat of their gazes, to the memory of two different midnights converging into one very dangerous present.
Eddie watched you with something raw, almost pleading, beneath the bravado. Steve watched you like he’d just realised he wasn’t imagining the shift, that he’d been right to feel it.
Silence vibrated.Then Eddie straightened, slow, deliberate, like he was bracing himself. He lifted his chin slightly, eyes flicking between you and Steve.“Alright,” he said, voice rough but steady, “final question.”
Steve tensed. You did too.
Eddie’s lips curled, not in a smirk but in something truer, more vulnerable — and more reckless.
“Do you,” he asked quietly, “ever think about kissing us again?”
You froze.
Because it wasn’t Do you want to? It wasn’t Have you thought about it? It wasn’t even Which one of us?
It was us — The question neither of them had dared to ask, the one that admitted something dangerous, Something shared.
Steve stared at Eddie as he’d just crossed a line until he realised he wanted the answer too.
His voice came out rough. “You don’t have to—”
“Yeah,” Eddie cut in, eyes still locked on you. “She does.”
Your pulse thundered.
You looked at Steve first. His jaw was tight, his eyes bright, his breath unsteady. He looked terrified you’d say no. He looked even more terrified you’d say yes.
Then you looked at Eddie. He was leaning forward, barely breathing, fingers digging into the carpet as if the question itself was too much for him.
And suddenly, the truth, the most straightforward truth, felt impossible to hold back.
“Yes,” you whispered.
The sound barely left your lips before the air shifted. The restraint in the room snapped like overstretched wire.
For one heartbeat, no one moved. Steve’s chest rose sharply. Eddie’s fingers curled into the carpet. You felt their attention like heat on your skin.
Then Steve leaned in. Slowly. Carefully. As though giving you a chance to change your mind. As though he’d waited too long to risk rushing it. His hand slid to your jaw, warm and trembling at the edges. He searched your eyes once, and then his mouth met yours. It was soft at first, trembling with everything he hadn’t said; the kind of kiss that tasted like relief, like apology, like something he’d been holding onto since New Year’s Eve ’84.
Your fingers curled in his shirt. Steve deepened the kiss, still gentle, still unbearably sweet, sickly even
And Eddie watched. Not in shock. Not in jealousy. But in hunger. Eyes wide, lips parted, breathing uneven like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you away or pull himself closer.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t interrupt.
He just waited until Steve finally forced himself to break away for air eyes blown, hand still cupping your jaw like he didn’t want to let go.
You turned toward Eddie slowly.
His breath hitched.
“Sweetheart…” he whispered, warning and want tangled thick in his voice. “If you kiss me like that, I’m not gonna be able to pretend I’m fine.”
You didn’t hesitate. You leaned in and kissed him. Eddie made a slight, breathless sound in his throat, surprised, wrecked, grateful all at once. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in, the kiss deeper immediately, rougher, more desperate than Steve’s.
He kissed you like a secret finally let loose.
Like he’d replayed that New Year’s kiss a hundred times and never expected to get another.
You felt Steve’s breath against your shoulder close, wanting, undone by watching.
When you finally pulled back, Eddie chased your mouth for half a second before catching himself.
You were breathing hard. They were too.
The electricity between all three of you was a living thing now.
You looked from Steve—flushed, dazed, lips swollen, to Eddie, pupils blown, chest rising fast and something bold and trembling bloomed inside you.
You leaned forward, placing one hand on each of their cheeks, pulling them closer, first gently, then with certainty, until all three of your foreheads touched, breaths mingling.
Both boys froze.
“C’mere,” you whispered.
Steve leaned in at the same moment Eddie did.
Your lips met Steve’s again just as Eddie’s brushed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then Steve’s cheek—
And somehow, impossibly, the kiss shifted into the three of you— sharing breath, sharing closeness,your mouth moving from one to the other,Steve kissing you as Eddie kissed you,
Eddie kissing you as Steve’s hand slid into your hair, all three of you tangled in the same hot, shivering moment.
It was clumsy. It was breathless. It was nothing you’d planned.
But it was right. God, it was right.
Your heart pounded in your chest, the taste of their lips lingering on yours like a forbidden promise. Steve's hand lingered in your hair, fingers twitching as if unsure whether to pull away or draw you closer. His eyes met yours, wide and searching, a flush creeping up his neck that spoke of the internal battle raging behind his composed facade. He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing your cheek in a hesitant stroke before dropping his gaze to the floor, chest heaving.
Eddie, on your other side, exhaled sharply, his body still pressed against yours, but his usual bold energy faltered. His hand rested on your thigh, grip firm yet trembling at the edges, as if testing the reality of the moment. He licked his lips, eyes darting between you and Steve, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he forced a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The air thickened with the weight of what you'd just shared, the couch creaking under the subtle shifts as everyone adjusted, bodies close but movements cautious, like stepping into uncharted territory.
You felt the heat building between you, your skin prickling under their lingering touches. Your hand reached out first, sliding up Steve's arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. He tensed at the contact, glancing at you with a mix of longing and restraint, his free hand clenching into a fist on his knee before relaxing. 'Hey,' you murmured softly, guiding his face back to yours with a gentle tug. He leaned in hesitantly, lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss, softer this time, as if savouring the risk.
Eddie watched for a beat, his breath catching, before his fingers tightened on your thigh, inching higher with deliberate slowness. He didn't push; instead, he waited, his body language screaming restraint as he nuzzled into your neck, lips grazing the skin there without fully committing. The hesitation hung between you all, a silent acknowledgment of the lines blurring, but the pull was too strong to ignore. Your other hand found Eddie's curls, threading through them to angle his head up, drawing him into the kiss with Steve's mouth still hovering near.
The room grew warmer, the summer night pressing in through the open window, carrying the distant hum of crickets. Sweat beaded on your skin as you shifted, pulling them both closer, your body the bridge between their cautious advances. Steve's kisses trailed down your jaw, pausing at your pulse point where he felt it racing, his tongue darting out experimentally before sucking lightly, testing your reaction. You arched into him, a soft gasp escaping, and that seemed to unlock something—his hands roamed bolder now, sliding under your cami to cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples with growing confidence, though his breaths came in uneven bursts.
Eddie, sensing the shift, moved with more intent but still held back, his palms skimming up your sides, bunching the fabric of your shorts. He knelt between your legs as you spread them slightly, his eyes locking on yours for permission, dark and dilated. When you nodded, he hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging them down inch by inch, exposing you to the cool air that did nothing to quench the fire building. His hesitation showed in the way he paused, hands hovering over your bare thighs, tracing patterns with feather-light touches before diving in.
His mouth found your inner thigh first, kisses wet and open-mouthed, working upward with agonizing slowness. Steve, from behind, pressed against your back, his erection grinding subtly against you through his jeans, but he waited for your guidance, lips sucking marks into your shoulder while his fingers pinched and rolled your nipples, drawing out whimpers. 'More,' you breathed, and Steve's response was immediate—his hand dipped lower, fingers joining Eddie's path, brushing your folds lightly, feeling how slick you already were.
Eddie groaned against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through you. He parted your thighs wider, tongue flicking out to taste you, starting with long, languid licks along your slit that made your hips buck. But he didn't rush, his movements deliberate, almost reverent, as if worshiping every inch. Sweat trickled down his temple, mixing with the dampness between your legs, the dirtiness of it all amplifying the sensations. Steve's fingers circled your clit now, syncing with Eddie's tongue, but he glanced at you often, seeking affirmation in your expressions, his dominance tempered by that underlying yield.
The overstimulation hit quickly—Eddie's tongue delving deeper, lapping at your entrance before sucking your clit with filthy enthusiasm, not letting up even as your body trembled. Steve's mouth claimed your breast, teeth grazing the peak before soothing it with sucks, his free hand holding you steady against him.
You were a mess already, wetness coating their fingers and chin, moans spilling uncontrollably as waves of pleasure built. 'Steve,' you gasped, reaching back to palm him through his pants. He hissed, thrusting into your hand once before stilling, waiting for more direction.
'Undress,' you urged, and he complied with shaky hands, shedding his shirt to reveal sweat-glistened skin, then shoving down his jeans. His cock stood hard and leaking, and you stroked him firmly, feeling him pulse under your touch.
Eddie pulled back just enough to strip too, his lean frame shiny with perspiration, tattoos stark against the flush. He dove back in immediately, tongue relentless, fingers now plunging inside you to curl against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
You guided Steve forward, positioning him at your entrance while Eddie continued his assault, lips and tongue working your clit without mercy. Steve rubbed his tip along your folds, coating himself in your arousal mixed with Eddie's saliva, his eyes flicking to yours in silent question. When you nodded, he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the stretch making you cry out. He bottomed out with a shudder, holding still, forehead pressed to yours, breaths ragged as he adjusted to the heat enveloping him.
Eddie didn't stop, his mouth sucking harder, fingers thrusting in tandem with Steve's tentative rocks. The dual invasion overwhelmed you, body slick with sweat, pussy clenching around Steve as the first orgasm ripped through.
You came with a sob, soaking them both, but they persisted—Steve thrusting deeper now, dominant in his rhythm but glancing at you for cues, Eddie overworking your clit until you writhed, a wet, moaning puddle in their arms.
'Your turn,' you panted to Eddie, pulling him up. Steve slipped out reluctantly, stroking himself as he watched, eyes hooded. Eddie aligned himself, sliding into your drenched heat with a guttural moan, filling you completely.
He fucked you harder, hips snapping with dirty precision, hands worshipping your body—squeezing your ass, thumbs digging into your hips. Steve leaned in at your urging, mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking until it throbbed, fingers returning to your clit to rub circles that pushed you toward another edge.
The room reeked of sex and sweat, bodies slapping wetly, the wrongness evident in their paused thrusts, the way Steve's hand hesitated before gripping your waist tighter,
Eddie's eyes squeezing shut as if fighting the intensity. But the pleasure won out, undeniable. Eddie pounded through your second climax, your walls fluttering wildly, before he buried deep, cum spilling hot inside you with a strained groan.
Steve took over seamlessly, entering your cum-filled pussy, the slick mess making obscene sounds. He thrust with controlled power, bottom edge showing in how he let you set the pace with your legs around him, but dominant in the way he angled to hit deep. Eddie, not sated, kissed down your stomach, tongue lapping at where you joined, then sucking your clit again, overstimulating until tears pricked your eyes. You shattered once more, a trembling, soaked wreck, moans turning to pleas.
Steve followed soon after, grunting as he came, flooding you further, the warmth mixing inside.
They collapsed around you, bodies entwined in the humid aftermath, hesitancy melted into exhausted satisfaction, the night sealing your shared secret.
Summary: After a summer away, you return to Hawkins changed — confident, magnetic, impossible for Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson to ignore. A simple movie night spirals into a charged game of truths, buried confessions, and a rivalry that turns dangerously intimate.
WORDCOUNT: 7.9k
WARNINGS: 18+, drugs, alcohol, unprotected, swearing, p in v, mutual pining, somewhat inspired by the movie challengers, oral! f recieving, overstim! overall a dirty, why choose type fic, dirty, sweaty fic, I'm going to hell
When you pushed open the door to Family Video, the bell chimed the same way it always had, but Steve’s head snapped up like it never had before.
He went still behind the counter, VHS half-rewound in his hands. His eyes dragged from your hair—sun-lightened in streaks—to the woven bracelet on your wrist, to the way your tank top showed a little more tanned shoulder than last year. He blinked once, twice, forgetting completely about the tape clicking in protest beneath his fingers.
Eddie was already in the aisle, flipping through a stack of horror movies he insisted Family Video “criminally underappreciated.” When he glanced up and saw you, his smirk faltered for a heartbeat. His gaze tracked the same subtle changes—stronger posture, surer steps, shorts that actually fit differently because you carried yourself differently. His fingers went slack around the tape in his hands, and it slipped, hitting the floor with a slap.
“Uh—hi,” Steve said, voice doing a strange, soft dip he immediately tried to mask with a clearing of his throat. He brushed a hand through his hair, suddenly attentive, suddenly careful. “You, uh… back in town?”
Eddie leaned casually on the end of the shelf, arms crossing—but the movement was off, like he was stalling for time. His eyes lingered a fraction too long on the sun-kissed skin at your collarbone. “Didn’t think we’d see you ‘til next week,” he said, but there was something else beneath it—something edged with surprise and something dangerously close to awe.
You smiled, small but real. “Got home early.”
Steve straightened slightly. Eddie’s jaw flexed.
You drifted toward the shelves, and they drifted too, almost unconsciously, one on each side. Steve hovered at your right, always a half-step closer than he used to be, as if drawn in. Eddie slid into place on your left, gaze flicking to your face whenever he thought you weren’t looking.
“A whole summer and no phone call?” Eddie breathed.
You glanced at him, amused. “Didn’t know you were waiting by the phone.”
His lips twitched, like he wanted to grin but couldn’t quite get there. “Yeah, well… maybe I was.”
Steve shot him a look over your shoulder—half glare, half something more unsettled—before shifting a little closer, close enough that his arm brushed yours as he reached for a random VHS on the shelf. The movement looked casual, but the way he angled his body toward you wasn’t.
“You were busy,” Steve said, trying to keep his tone easy, unaffected. “Camp counsellor stuff. Kids. Bugs. Whatever.” He shrugged, but his jaw worked once, betraying him. “Didn’t think you’d have time to call.”
“Doesn’t mean you didn’t want her to,” Eddie muttered, too quiet for anyone but you and Steve to catch.
Steve stiffened, but didn’t rise to it.
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pretending not to feel the way both of them watched the motion. “There wasn’t much time,” you admitted. “Long days. Later nights.”
Eddie’s brows lifted, something sparking in his eyes. “Sounds… eventful.”
“It was work,” you said, though the way their attention sharpened told you they’d heard more in your voice than you intended.
Steve suddenly spoke up, a little too quickly. “You look—” He stopped, cleared his throat, then tried again, softer. “You look good. You look… happy.”
Eddie rolled a ring on his finger, studying you with an intensity that warmed your skin. “Yeah. Different,” he said, but not like it was a bad thing. “In a good way.”
You didn’t miss the way they both angled in, almost subtly enough to pretend it wasn’t happening. Almost.
Their rivalry didn’t flare outward—no jabs, no immediate sniping. Instead, it simmered, silent and electric, in the way Steve shifted closer as you reached for another movie, and in the way Eddie’s gaze followed the movement of your hand like it was something he hadn’t seen before.
The tension didn’t feel like it belonged to the old versions of them—the boys you’d left behind in June. This was newer, heavier. Rooted in the way you’d walked back into the store with a confidence you didn’t have when you left.
And they felt it.
Steve nudged your elbow gently. “So,” he asked, trying for casual but not getting there, “you picking something for the night? Or just teasing us with your presence?”
Eddie huffed a laugh. “She’s been gone a whole summer, Harrington. Let her take her time.”
You pretended to study the back of a VHS box, but the truth was you needed a second. Their attention—so focused, so deliberate—felt different than before. Before the summer, Steve would’ve flirted lazily, half-heartedly. Eddie would’ve joked his way around you, loud and exaggerated. But now?
Now it felt like they were both trying to catch up to the version of you standing in front of them.
You slid the tape back onto the shelf and stepped down the aisle. Footsteps followed immediately—Steve’s longer stride on your right, Eddie’s lighter one on your left. You didn’t have to look to know. You could feel them.
“So what are you in the mood for?” Steve asked, voice low, almost hopeful. His hand hovered near the small of your back but didn’t quite touch, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.
“Besides our company, obviously,” Eddie added, smirking, though it didn’t touch his eyes. Those were still studying you too closely, like you were a song he’d heard before but didn’t understand until now.
You rolled your eyes, but it came out softer than intended. “I came here for a movie, not interrogation.”
“Can’t it be both?” Eddie said.
Steve looked at him. “That’s not—” He cut himself off, exhaling, then looked at you. “We just… missed you.”
The words hung between the three of you, startling in their honesty.
Eddie’s shoulders slumped a fraction, as if he hated that Steve said it first but couldn’t disagree. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It was weird without you.”
You swallowed, suddenly warm all over. The room felt smaller, or maybe the two of them were just standing closer.
“I was only gone for a couple months,” you said, but the protest was thin, brittle around the edges.
“Long enough,” Eddie replied.
Steve’s gaze softened. “Long enough to come back different.”
You froze.
Eddie’s voice dropped, gentler than you’d ever heard it. “Long enough for us to notice.”
You opened your mouth, not sure what would come out, but before you could speak, Dustin’s voice carried from the front of the store.
“Hey, Steve! Did you finish rewinding—oh.” His steps slowed, eyes darting between all three of you. “Um. Am I interrupting something?”
Steve jumped back an entire step. Eddie straightened so fast he nearly knocked over a display.
You blinked, heat still buzzing under your skin.
“No,” Steve said.
“Yes,” Eddie said.
They glared at each other.
Dustin squinted. “Right. Okay. Well… good to have you back,” he said to you, still suspicious, before wandering off.
Silence settled again, but it wasn’t awkward. It was… charged.
You met their eyes, one then the other. “You two seriously need to relax.”
“Not sure that’s possible at the moment,” Steve said, almost under his breath.
Eddie smirked, but it came out softer this time. “Yeah, sweetheart. You kinda ruined that the second you walked in.”
You laughed under your breath, heat rising again. “I’m just here for a movie. That’s all.”
“That’s perfect,” Steve said immediately, stepping in before Eddie could. “We could—uh—hang out tonight. If you want.” He cleared his throat, staring very hard at the VHS rack. “Catch up. Since you’ve been gone.”
Eddie scoffed softly. “Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth. But if anyone’s hanging out with her tonight, it’s me. I’ve actually got the night free.”
Steve turned, eyebrows lifting sharply. “So do I.”
Eddie blinked innocently. “Crazy coincidence.”
“You don’t believe in coincidences,” Steve muttered.
“Not when you’re around, man.”
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your mouth. “Guys—”
“So what do you want to do?” Steve cut in, too eager to hide. “We could watch whatever you pick. Order pizza. Or I could cook—”
Eddie burst out laughing. “Cook? You? Come on, Harrington, don’t torture her on her first night back.”
“Oh, and you ordering the greasiest pizza in town is a better welcome?”
“At least it’s edible!”
They were facing each other fully now, squared off like they were ready to throw down in the middle of the romance section. Dustin peeked from behind a standee, then retreated instantly.
You let them go for a few seconds—long enough to watch the tension ping between them, jealousy and posturing and something else beneath it.
Then you cleared your throat. Loudly.
Both froze mid-argument and snapped their attention back to you.
“Okay,” you said slowly, “how about this?”
Two heads tilted, almost identical in expectation.
“You both come over.”
Their reactions were immediate and wildly different—
Eddie brightened, eyes going wide and thrilled.
Steve blinked, startled, then stood a little taller.
“Wait—both of us?” Steve asked, almost cautiously.
“If you don’t want to hang out then—” you started.
“No,” Steve cut in. “I want to. Yeah. Definitely.”
Eddie grinned like he’d already won something. “Sounds like a party to me.”
“It’s not a party,” you corrected. “It’s a movie.”
“Movie party,” Eddie said.
“Movie night,” Steve insisted.
They glared again.
You shook your head, biting back a laugh. “Jesus. You two can fight about what to call it later. Just show up.”
“When?” Steve asked.
“Eight?” you offered.
“Seven-thirty,” Eddie countered instantly, raising his brows at Steve like ‘Try to beat that, king.’
Steve rolled his eyes. “Seven-thirty is fine.”
You looked between them, warmth pooling in your chest—because despite the bickering, despite the tension, they both looked genuinely excited. A little nervous, too.
Like they were afraid to mess this up.
“Seven-thirty,” you confirmed.
At 7:28, your living room was quiet.
At 7:29, you heard two engines outside at the exact same time.
You peeked through the window and had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
Steve’s BMW glided to a stop at the curb, sleek and polished like he’d spent the whole afternoon detailing it.
Eddie’s van rumbled in right beside it, loud and unapologetic, stereo still vibrating faintly through the closed doors.
They stared at each other through their windshields.
Neither moved.
You could practically feel the standoff from inside.
Eddie was the first to climb out, boots hitting the pavement with a thud. He had a grocery bag dangling from one hand, something clinking faintly inside—probably not anything responsible.
Steve exited his car a half-second after, almost like he refused to let Eddie have the first step. He held a pizza box and a six-pack of sodas, everything balanced neatly like he’d practised walking with it.
Eddie eyed the pizza.
Steve eyed the bag.
“What’s in there?” Steve asked, nodding toward Eddie’s hand.
Eddie smirked. “Hospitality.”
“That’s alcohol,” Steve said flatly.
“That’s hospitality,” Eddie corrected, lifting the bag.
Steve lifted the pizza box in response. “At least I brought real food.”
Eddie scoffed. “Pizza isn’t food, Harrington. It’s a peace offering.”
Steve frowned. “Peace offering for what?”
Eddie grinned, leaning back against the van. “You’ll see.”
You swung open the front door before they could escalate.
Both turned instantly, straightening like two boys caught doing something much worse than showing up too early.
“You’re…” you looked at the clock behind you, “…early.”
“Seven-thirty sharp,” Steve said, holding up the pizza like a trophy.
“It’s seven-twenty-nine,” Eddie pointed out.
“And we arrived at seven-twenty-nine,” Steve shot back.
Eddie spread his free hand, triumphant. “Which is early.”
Steve’s jaw tightened. “Which is punctual.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Guys.”
Both fell silent.
You stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
They moved at the same time, shoulder to shoulder, each trying not to be the one who stepped through first. It would’ve been funny if the air between them—and you—didn’t hum with something warm and electric.
You pretended not to notice the way they subtly jockeyed for position, each trying to walk closer to you as you led them inside.
They followed you into the kitchen—Steve a quiet, controlled presence at your right, Eddie practically vibrating with unspent energy at your left. They set their offerings down on the counter at the same time, and the soft clatter of glass against cardboard echoed in the small space.
Eddie’s bag chimed as he loosened his grip, bottles knocking together.
Steve’s pizza box landed neatly beside it, perfectly squared with the edge of the counter because of course it was.
You reached up to open a cabinet, your red cami stretching just slightly with the motion, denim shorts catching the warm kitchen light. The air was thick with late-summer heat, heavy and slow. You didn’t notice their silence at first—too focused on getting glasses down—but you felt it.
Two sets of eyes. Both were very aware of what you were wearing. Both trying not to make it obvious.
Eddie recovered first, because of course he did. He cleared his throat, snagged a bottle from the grocery bag, and popped the cap with a flick of his thumb against the countertop.
“You want one?” he asked, holding the beer out to you, the bottle sweating in his ringed fingers.
You turned toward him, brow raised. “Already?”
He grinned, leaning his hip against the counter. “What? It’s movie night. Movies go better with beer. Besides—” His gaze dipped, just for a second, tracing the line of your bare legs before snapping back up with a flash of teeth. “—it’s hot as hell in here.”
Steve shot him a look, sharp but silent. When his eyes drifted to you, though—well, the silence made sense. He swallowed once, subtle gaze flicking from the curve of your shoulder to the hem of your shorts before he caught himself and straightened.
“She doesn’t have to drink,” Steve said, a little too quickly. “There’s soda. Water. Whatever you want.”
You smirked, fingers brushing the beer Eddie still held out. “Relax, Steve. I can make my own choices.”
Eddie’s brows shot up, triumphant. Steve’s jaw clenched, not at you—but at the way Eddie’s grin widened.
You took the beer.
Warmth flickered across Eddie’s face, genuine and bright for a second before he masked it with a shrug. “Knew you missed drinking with me,” he teased.
“Don’t push it,” you said, but your smile softened the words.
Steve busied himself with the pizza, lifting the lid and checking it as if it needed inspection. “We should eat before the movie,” he murmured, not looking at either of you. But the tips of his ears flushed pink—betrayal of where his mind had been a moment ago.
You stepped between them to grab plates, feeling the temperature spike again as they instinctively shifted closer, one on each side, as opposing magnets pulled toward the same point.
ou balanced the plates in your hands and stepped out of the thick kitchen air. “Alright,” you called, “let’s pick something before you two start wrestling over who gets the front seat of the couch.”
Eddie snorted.
Steve didn’t deny it—though he shot Eddie a look that said he absolutely would wrestle him if pressed.
You knelt in front of the TV stand and opened the cabinet full of your VHS tapes. The familiar dusty-plastic smell wafted out as you flipped through the cases, hearing their footsteps behind you—two separate rhythms falling into the same orbit.
They crouched down beside you without a word—Steve on your right, Eddie on your left, like it was muscle memory.
You grabbed a worn VHS and held it up.
“This one.”
Both leaned in at the exact same moment—and immediately froze when their foreheads almost collided in front of you.
Eddie blinked once, eyes sparkling as soon as he read the title. “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.” He gave a low whistle. “You’re telling me you came back cooler?”
Steve straightened slightly, clearing his throat. “You rented that the day before you left,” he said, quieter. “You were halfway through when you realized you hadn’t packed.” He met your eyes. “You never finished it.”
Your heart flickered at the fact he remembered that detail.
Before you could react, you stood and slid the tape into the VCR. It clicked and whirred, swallowing the film with a mechanical hum. Behind you, neither of them moved, both rooted to the rug like they’d forgotten how to stand.
You turned, catching the split-second moment where Steve’s gaze swept from your red cami to your exposed legs, then away—quick, guilty. Eddie didn’t look away quite as fast.
You pretended not to notice.
Eddie recovered first, pushing up from the floor in a single fluid motion. He made a beeline for the couch, sprawling across one end like he owned the place, long legs dangling off the side, arm thrown over the backrest in blatant invitation.
Steve rose more carefully, smoothing the front of his jeans, posture neat and controlled even as something bright and sharp flickered through his eyes. He settled at the opposite end of the couch, sitting upright, polite—overly polite.
You stood in front of them with your arms crossed lightly. “You two done turning everything into a competition?”
“No,” Eddie said.
“Yes,” Steve said.
Another glare exchanged.
You sighed. “Then scoot.”
They both blinked.
“Scoot,” you repeated, pointing at the space between them. “I’m not picking sides.”
Steve moved immediately, pressing himself flush to his end of the couch to give you space. Eddie grumbled but shifted too, though his arm remained draped over the back—territorial in a lazy sort of way.
You sat between them, the couch dipping under your weight. The contact was immediate—your thigh brushing Steve’s, your shoulder grazing Eddie’s.
Steve froze for half a beat before exhaling.
Eddie’s breath hitched, almost inaudibly.
The opening credits flashed across the screen: dirt roads, heat haze, a radio reporter’s grim tone bleeding through the speakers.
Eddie grinned. “Great choice, sweetheart.”
Steve gave a soft laugh under his breath. “Could’ve picked something lighthearted, you know.”
“You scared, Harrington?” Eddie teased.
“Of course not,” Steve lied, too quickly.
You settled back, taking a sip of your beer as leatherface’s shadow filled the screen.
Neither of them looked at the movie yet.
They were both looking at you.
The credits rolled in a wash of distorted sound and static, Leatherface’s last wild spin fading into the hum of your VCR. The room was dim now, lit only by the soft lamp on your side table and the flicker of the screen going blue. Six empty beer bottles crowded your coffee table—three different brands, because of course Steve and Eddie refused to drink the same thing without a debate.
Eddie let out a satisfied sigh, slumping deeper into the couch. “God, I forgot how fun that one is.”
Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, cheeks flushed just a little from the alcohol. “Fun is one word.”
Eddie nudged him with his foot. “Don’t pretend you didn’t jump at the chainsaw scene.”
“I didn’t jump.”
“You did, Harrington. Whole couch moved.”
“You kicked it, man!”
You laughed, stretching lazily, and both men fell quiet mid-bicker, their eyes sliding toward you like they couldn’t help it. Your red cami had slipped slightly off one shoulder, your hair mussed from leaning into the cushions, your legs folded beneath you in those barely-there summer shorts.
Outside, the chorus of cicadas buzzed the humid August evening back in. Inside, the air was thick—beer-warm, hazy with the kind of tension that didn’t fade even after a two-hour horror movie.
Steve glanced at the time but didn’t stand. Eddie drummed his fingers on his knee, restless but not leaving either. Neither of them made a move for the door, and you didn’t want them to.
“So…” you said slowly, “do you guys need to go?”
Both spoke at once.
“No.” – Steve
“Hell no.” – Eddie
You bit back a smile. “Good. Because I’m not ready for the night to end.”
Their attention snapped to you—sharp, alert, heat blooming behind their eyes in real time. Eddie’s tongue flicked across his bottom lip. Steve’s breath caught, barely audible.
You stood, grabbing the empty bottles as an excuse to move. They both rose too quickly, as if afraid you might disappear if they didn’t keep up. You set the bottles on the counter, wiped your hands on a dish towel, and then tipped your head toward the stairs.
“Come on,” you said, a soft dare threading through your voice.
“We can listen to music.”
A beat passed.
Eddie was the first to respond, expression slipping into something hungry-sweet. “Upstairs?”
Steve’s swallow echoed in the quiet kitchen. “Your… room?”
“You two scared to leave the living room?” you teased lightly.
Steve blinked, straightening. “No.”
Eddie grinned crookedly. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”
You did.
Feet padding softly on the stairs, denim brushing warm skin, the house settling into late-night stillness.
Behind you, their footsteps followed—Eddie’s uneven, impatient rhythm; Steve’s steady but just a little too quick. You didn’t have to look back to know they were watching you climb—watching the sway of your hips, the curve of your spine outlined by the red cami, the bare stretch of your legs still tinged with summer.
When you pushed open your bedroom door, Steve exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. Eddie looked around with open curiosity, eyes flicking over the posters, the tangle of books, the Polaroids on your corkboard.
But mostly, they looked at you.
You crossed to your small stereo, flipping through a stack of cassette tapes until you found one with a cracked case and handwritten label. You slid it in, pressed play, and warm, slow, hazy music filled the room—something with a pulse, something that made the hot summer night feel even heavier.
Eddie let out a low hum. “Good taste.”
Steve’s gaze softened. “Really good.”
You sat down on the edge of your bed. They stood there for a moment—uncertain, waiting, the electricity practically vibrating off both of them.
Then you patted the mattress beside you.
“Sit,” you said.
They did.
One on each side, like magnets pulled to the same point.
The bed dipped beneath their weight, the three of you close—closer than the couch ever allowed.
Music throbbed softly through the room.
Heat pooled low in your stomach.
The air between the three of you crackled with the exact kind of intensity you’d never admit you’d fantasized about.
Eddie’s knee brushed yours.
Steve’s arm rested behind you, fingers grazing your shoulder blade.
Neither pulled away.
You tipped your head back, listening to the music, letting the moment swell.
Eddie leaned back on his palms, foot bouncing to the slow pulse of the music humming through your room. Steve sat on your other side, closer than before, but trying hard not to appear like he was competing for space on your bed — even though he absolutely was.
The heat of the night made everything feel softer at the edges, edged with that warm, tipsy glow. Laughter lingered in the air. So did things unsaid.
You took a slow sip from the last of your beer, feeling their eyes on you even in the dim light.
“Hey, Eddie?”
Your voice was low — careful, but teasing.
He perked up immediately. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
You traced your thumb around the rim of the bottle.
“Are you still selling Molly?”
Steve’s head whipped toward you so fast you heard the bedsprings shift.
Eddie blinked once… twice… then let out the kind of laugh that was all breath and disbelief.
“Well,” he said, running a hand over his mouth, “I didn’t exactly have ‘camp counselor sweetheart asking about party favors’ on my bingo card tonight.”
Steve stared at you, brows furrowed. “Why are you asking that?”
You shrugged, light and easy — but your eyes were anything but.
“I dunno.” Your voice dipped. “Thought it could be… interesting. For all of us to loosen up.”
You looked between them — two boys who once absolutely would’ve tried to impress you by saying yes without hesitation.
But now?
Now they looked older. Softer. Protective in a way that made heat curl low in your stomach.
“I didn’t know you two had gotten so responsible,” you teased, nudging Eddie’s knee with yours.
“You bring out weird things in people,” Eddie said with a crooked smile.
Steve nodded once. “Weird good things.”
You leaned back on your elbows, music pulsing slow through the room, brushing both their shoulders with your arms.
“So,” you murmured, eyes sliding between them, “you’re telling me you don’t have any?”
Eddie’s eyes glittered.
“Oh, I didn’t say that.”
—
The three of you sat in a loose circle, backs resting against the side of the bed, legs tangled in whatever direction felt natural. The room glowed in amber light from your nightstand lamp. The cicadas hummed outside. One of Eddie's rings lay abandoned on the carpet between you all, lost in a fit of laughter twenty minutes earlier.
All of your pupils looked wider, your smiles easier, your limbs looser—as if the whole world had exhaled and so had you.
Eddie leaned back on his palms, head tipped to one side as he looked between you and Steve with a lazy, lopsided grin.
“I haven’t felt this… floaty in forever,” he sighed, kicking lightly at Steve’s ankle.
Steve nudged him back with a laugh that sounded freer than anything you'd heard from him in years. His hair had fallen over his forehead, his cheeks warm, his posture loose in a way Steve Harrington’s never was.
Eddie traced invisible shapes on the carpet with his finger. “This is nice,” he murmured.
Steve glanced at him, surprised. “You admitting that hanging out with me is nice?”
“I said this”—Eddie gestured vaguely to the three of you—“not you specifically, Harrington. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
But the smile tugging at his mouth ruined the jab.
Steve scoffed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. Still nice.”
The way he looked at you on the last word made your breath hitch.
You leaned back against your hands, head tipping up toward the ceiling. “I’m glad you both came tonight.”
Two soft, near-simultaneous inhales hit the quiet at once.
Eddie leaned closer, boots squeaking lightly on the carpet. “Yeah?”
Steve shifted too, knee brushing yours. “Yeah?”
Your gaze flicked between them—two boys sitting far too close, shoulders relaxed, eyes wide and bright and focused entirely on you. Everything about them buzzed with the same warm looseness that thrummed under your skin.
“Yeah,” you breathed.
The quiet between the three of you was warm, loose, stretched thin like something waiting to snap. Music fluttered softly from your stereo, the kind of hazy, nostalgic melody that made everything feel heavier and lighter at the same time.
Eddie flopped backward dramatically, arms out. “Okay. Okay. If we just sit here staring at each other any longer, I’m gonna explode.”
Steve snorted. “You’re always about two minutes from exploding.”
Eddie pointed at him without lifting his head. “Exactly. Hence—game time.”
Your brows lifted. “Game time?”
Eddie sat up again, eyes sparkling. “Truths.”
Steve groaned, but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. “Oh, great. That’s not a recipe for disaster or anything.”
“It’s perfect,” Eddie insisted. “We’re all—” he waved a hand vaguely, “—relaxed.”
You laughed. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
Eddie clapped once. “Rules are simple: you ask a truth, everyone answers. No lying. No skipping.”
Steve looked at him suspiciously. “You came up with this way too fast.”
Eddie grinned, tapping his temple. “Chaos brain, Harrington.”
You tucked your legs under you. “Okay then. Who starts?”
There was one beat—
two—
and then Steve, cheeks still faintly flushed, leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“I will.”
Eddie snorted. “Of course you will, King Steve.”
But Steve didn’t take the bait.
He looked at you.
Then at Eddie.
Something bold flickering behind his eyes.
“Alright,” he said, and then—without hesitation—
“When did you lose your virginity?”
Eddie choked on absolutely nothing.
You blinked. Hard.
“Whoa,” Eddie coughed. “We said truths, man, not biography chapter titles.”
Steve shrugged, trying and failing to look casual. “It’s not that intense. It’s just a question.”
“It’s very intense,” Eddie said.
You lifted your brows. “You asked it, Harrington. You answer first.”
Steve went still.
You watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way his fingers picked at the hem of his jeans, the way he didn’t look away from either of you.
Then, quietly—honest in a way that felt disarming—
“Junior year,” he said. “Prom night.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “God, of course it was prom night.”
Steve shot him a look. “We’re playing truth or truth, Munson. That’s the truth.”
Eddie grinned, leaning back on his palms. “Alright, my turn then. I—” He blew out a breath. “—was a sophomore. Mutual decision. Wasn’t dramatic. Wasn’t romantic either, but… it was good.”
Steve nodded, surprisingly gentle. “Cool.”
Both of them turned to you.
Your heartbeat thudded in your ears.
Their pupils were wide—not from anything chemical, but from proximity, from the beer, from the night, from you.
Eddie tilted his head, a grin on his face. “What about you, sweetheart?”
Steve’s voice was softer. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Eddie elbowed him. “No skipping!”
“You didn’t let her decline,” Steve reminded him sharply.
You exhaled slowly, feeling their attention like heat on your skin. Eddie looked over at you knowingly.
You exhaled slowly, feeling their attention like heat on your skin. Eddie looked over at you knowingly — too knowingly — the corner of his mouth curling like he already suspected the answer and was waiting for you to confirm it.
You drew a line on the carpet with your fingertip, pretending to think. “Mine was… sophomore year too.”
Steve blinked. Eddie froze.
You lifted your eyes to Eddie — just briefly, just enough.
“Mutual decision,” you added quietly. “Not dramatic. Not romantic.” A beat passed.” But good.”
Eddie’s grin faltered — not in discomfort, but in recognition. His lips parted just slightly, his breath catching as if he’d been shoved backwards into a memory he’d boxed up years ago.
Steve looked between you two, eyebrows pulling together. “Wait… what?”
Eddie didn’t look away from you. Didn’t blink.Didn’t breathe.
Your smile was small. Barely there.
But it was answer enough.
Steve’s eyes widened. “You two—? When—? Oh my god.”
Steve’s jaw dropped. “You slept with—? Eddie? Eddie Munson??”
Eddie lifted his hands. “Hey! Don’t say it like that! I can hear the question marks, Harrington!”
Steve stared at you, then back at Eddie. “Oh my god, you’ve been unhinged around her all night. This explains everything.”
Eddie’s ears went pink. “Been unhinged around her for years, man. Keep up.”
You nudged Eddie’s knee with your foot. “It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, voice softening, something warm flickering in his eyes. “But I remember it.”
Steve’s gaze snapped to Eddie, narrowed.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, man, the girl you’re trying so hard to impress? We hooked up once behind the school gym after a math test’? Didn’t seem relevant.”
Steve looked at you, cheeks flushed and jaw working, like he wasn’t sure how to process the new information — or his reaction to it.
You took pity on him, leaning back on your palms.
“It wasn’t a relationship,” you said softly. “Just… a moment. A good one.”
Eddie’s smile returned, softer, with that small ache tangled in it.
“A very good one.”
You fiddled with your beer bottle, staring at the amber glass — aware of Steve watching you, Eddie watching you, the two of them watching each other watching you.
The circle on the carpet suddenly felt smaller.
Tighter.
Hotter.
Steve swallowed hard. “Okay. Well.” He lifted his chin. “That was definitely a truth.”
Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “You started this, Harrington.”
“And I regret it immediately,” Steve muttered, though his eyes kept drifting back to you — as if this new knowledge had rearranged something inside him.
Your lips curled.
And you asked—
“Well, now that we’ve opened that door… who was your best kiss?” The air in the room changed. Both men went still. This game was no longer playful. It was personal.
Steve’s head lifted first.
Not defensively.
Not nervously.
But with a kind of quiet, startled courage — like he’d just realized something he couldn’t keep to himself anymore.
His eyes flicked to Eddie, then locked on you.
And in a voice low enough that the music barely covered it, he said:
“New Year’s Eve. ’84.”
Your breath hitched.
Eddie blinked. “What?”
Steve didn’t break eye contact with you.
“You kissed me at midnight,” he said softly, like it was a confession he’d been holding in for far too long. “Just a quick one. You’d been drinking Coke out of those red cups, and your lips were cold from being outside. You laughed right after, like it didn’t mean anything.”
His throat bobbed.
“But it did. To me.”
The room tilted — not from alcohol, not from heat or the drugs, but from the way Steve Harrington suddenly wasn’t hiding anymore.
You parted your lips to speak, but Eddie cut in, his voice rougher, tighter around the edges.
“Same night.”
You turned to him slowly, pulse pounding.
Eddie leaned forward on his hands, gaze intense, pupils huge.
“New Year’s Eve, ’84,” he said, breath shaky but controlled. “You kissed me too.”
Steve’s head snapped toward him. “What—?”
Eddie didn’t look away from you.
“It was later,” he went on, swallowing. “After midnight. After most people had left. You and I were standing behind Wheeler’s garage because you wanted air, and I…” He huffed a laugh that wasn’t quite amused. “I didn’t think you even knew my name back then.”
You did.
You always had.
“You were shivering,” Eddie continued, voice dipping low, “so I gave you my jacket. And you said—”
He broke off, eyes flickering over your face like he was afraid you’d deny it.
“You said I looked sad,” he murmured.
Your stomach twisted.
“You kissed me because you didn’t want me to start the new year feeling alone.”
Steve stared at you, blindsided. “You kissed him too?”
Eddie’s eyes never left yours.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She did.”
The room felt like it was vibrating — with truth, with want, with something deeper and older than you’d realized you’d been carrying with you for months… maybe years.
Your heart hammered.
“I didn’t…” You swallowed, breath unsteady. “I didn’t know it meant that much to either of you.”
Steve let out a shaky laugh. “It was my best kiss.”
Eddie leaned closer, elbows braced on his knees. “Mine too.”
And then, softer — a knife-edge of honesty:
“Still is.”
The words hung in the air —
Still is.
They landed like a spark in a dry field.
Steve inhaled sharply, as if he’d been punched in the ribs. You felt the world narrow to the space between the three of you, to the heat of their gazes, to the memory of two different midnights converging into one very dangerous present.
Eddie watched you with something raw, almost pleading, beneath the bravado. Steve watched you like he’d just realised he wasn’t imagining the shift, that he’d been right to feel it.
Silence vibrated.Then Eddie straightened, slow, deliberate, like he was bracing himself. He lifted his chin slightly, eyes flicking between you and Steve.“Alright,” he said, voice rough but steady, “final question.”
Steve tensed. You did too.
Eddie’s lips curled, not in a smirk but in something truer, more vulnerable — and more reckless.
“Do you,” he asked quietly, “ever think about kissing us again?”
You froze.
Because it wasn’t Do you want to? It wasn’t Have you thought about it? It wasn’t even Which one of us?
It was us — The question neither of them had dared to ask, the one that admitted something dangerous, Something shared.
Steve stared at Eddie as he’d just crossed a line until he realised he wanted the answer too.
His voice came out rough. “You don’t have to—”
“Yeah,” Eddie cut in, eyes still locked on you. “She does.”
Your pulse thundered.
You looked at Steve first. His jaw was tight, his eyes bright, his breath unsteady. He looked terrified you’d say no. He looked even more terrified you’d say yes.
Then you looked at Eddie. He was leaning forward, barely breathing, fingers digging into the carpet as if the question itself was too much for him.
And suddenly, the truth, the most straightforward truth, felt impossible to hold back.
“Yes,” you whispered.
The sound barely left your lips before the air shifted. The restraint in the room snapped like overstretched wire.
For one heartbeat, no one moved. Steve’s chest rose sharply. Eddie’s fingers curled into the carpet. You felt their attention like heat on your skin.
Then Steve leaned in. Slowly. Carefully. As though giving you a chance to change your mind. As though he’d waited too long to risk rushing it. His hand slid to your jaw, warm and trembling at the edges. He searched your eyes once, and then his mouth met yours. It was soft at first, trembling with everything he hadn’t said; the kind of kiss that tasted like relief, like apology, like something he’d been holding onto since New Year’s Eve ’84.
Your fingers curled in his shirt. Steve deepened the kiss, still gentle, still unbearably sweet, sickly even
And Eddie watched. Not in shock. Not in jealousy. But in hunger. Eyes wide, lips parted, breathing uneven like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you away or pull himself closer.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t interrupt.
He just waited until Steve finally forced himself to break away for air eyes blown, hand still cupping your jaw like he didn’t want to let go.
You turned toward Eddie slowly.
His breath hitched.
“Sweetheart…” he whispered, warning and want tangled thick in his voice. “If you kiss me like that, I’m not gonna be able to pretend I’m fine.”
You didn’t hesitate. You leaned in and kissed him. Eddie made a slight, breathless sound in his throat, surprised, wrecked, grateful all at once. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in, the kiss deeper immediately, rougher, more desperate than Steve’s.
He kissed you like a secret finally let loose.
Like he’d replayed that New Year’s kiss a hundred times and never expected to get another.
You felt Steve’s breath against your shoulder close, wanting, undone by watching.
When you finally pulled back, Eddie chased your mouth for half a second before catching himself.
You were breathing hard. They were too.
The electricity between all three of you was a living thing now.
You looked from Steve—flushed, dazed, lips swollen, to Eddie, pupils blown, chest rising fast and something bold and trembling bloomed inside you.
You leaned forward, placing one hand on each of their cheeks, pulling them closer, first gently, then with certainty, until all three of your foreheads touched, breaths mingling.
Both boys froze.
“C’mere,” you whispered.
Steve leaned in at the same moment Eddie did.
Your lips met Steve’s again just as Eddie’s brushed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then Steve’s cheek—
And somehow, impossibly, the kiss shifted into the three of you— sharing breath, sharing closeness,your mouth moving from one to the other,Steve kissing you as Eddie kissed you,
Eddie kissing you as Steve’s hand slid into your hair, all three of you tangled in the same hot, shivering moment.
It was clumsy. It was breathless. It was nothing you’d planned.
But it was right. God, it was right.
Your heart pounded in your chest, the taste of their lips lingering on yours like a forbidden promise. Steve's hand lingered in your hair, fingers twitching as if unsure whether to pull away or draw you closer. His eyes met yours, wide and searching, a flush creeping up his neck that spoke of the internal battle raging behind his composed facade. He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing your cheek in a hesitant stroke before dropping his gaze to the floor, chest heaving.
Eddie, on your other side, exhaled sharply, his body still pressed against yours, but his usual bold energy faltered. His hand rested on your thigh, grip firm yet trembling at the edges, as if testing the reality of the moment. He licked his lips, eyes darting between you and Steve, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he forced a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The air thickened with the weight of what you'd just shared, the couch creaking under the subtle shifts as everyone adjusted, bodies close but movements cautious, like stepping into uncharted territory.
You felt the heat building between you, your skin prickling under their lingering touches. Your hand reached out first, sliding up Steve's arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. He tensed at the contact, glancing at you with a mix of longing and restraint, his free hand clenching into a fist on his knee before relaxing. 'Hey,' you murmured softly, guiding his face back to yours with a gentle tug. He leaned in hesitantly, lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss, softer this time, as if savouring the risk.
Eddie watched for a beat, his breath catching, before his fingers tightened on your thigh, inching higher with deliberate slowness. He didn't push; instead, he waited, his body language screaming restraint as he nuzzled into your neck, lips grazing the skin there without fully committing. The hesitation hung between you all, a silent acknowledgment of the lines blurring, but the pull was too strong to ignore. Your other hand found Eddie's curls, threading through them to angle his head up, drawing him into the kiss with Steve's mouth still hovering near.
The room grew warmer, the summer night pressing in through the open window, carrying the distant hum of crickets. Sweat beaded on your skin as you shifted, pulling them both closer, your body the bridge between their cautious advances. Steve's kisses trailed down your jaw, pausing at your pulse point where he felt it racing, his tongue darting out experimentally before sucking lightly, testing your reaction. You arched into him, a soft gasp escaping, and that seemed to unlock something—his hands roamed bolder now, sliding under your cami to cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples with growing confidence, though his breaths came in uneven bursts.
Eddie, sensing the shift, moved with more intent but still held back, his palms skimming up your sides, bunching the fabric of your shorts. He knelt between your legs as you spread them slightly, his eyes locking on yours for permission, dark and dilated. When you nodded, he hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging them down inch by inch, exposing you to the cool air that did nothing to quench the fire building. His hesitation showed in the way he paused, hands hovering over your bare thighs, tracing patterns with feather-light touches before diving in.
His mouth found your inner thigh first, kisses wet and open-mouthed, working upward with agonizing slowness. Steve, from behind, pressed against your back, his erection grinding subtly against you through his jeans, but he waited for your guidance, lips sucking marks into your shoulder while his fingers pinched and rolled your nipples, drawing out whimpers. 'More,' you breathed, and Steve's response was immediate—his hand dipped lower, fingers joining Eddie's path, brushing your folds lightly, feeling how slick you already were.
Eddie groaned against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through you. He parted your thighs wider, tongue flicking out to taste you, starting with long, languid licks along your slit that made your hips buck. But he didn't rush, his movements deliberate, almost reverent, as if worshiping every inch. Sweat trickled down his temple, mixing with the dampness between your legs, the dirtiness of it all amplifying the sensations. Steve's fingers circled your clit now, syncing with Eddie's tongue, but he glanced at you often, seeking affirmation in your expressions, his dominance tempered by that underlying yield.
The overstimulation hit quickly—Eddie's tongue delving deeper, lapping at your entrance before sucking your clit with filthy enthusiasm, not letting up even as your body trembled. Steve's mouth claimed your breast, teeth grazing the peak before soothing it with sucks, his free hand holding you steady against him.
You were a mess already, wetness coating their fingers and chin, moans spilling uncontrollably as waves of pleasure built. 'Steve,' you gasped, reaching back to palm him through his pants. He hissed, thrusting into your hand once before stilling, waiting for more direction.
'Undress,' you urged, and he complied with shaky hands, shedding his shirt to reveal sweat-glistened skin, then shoving down his jeans. His cock stood hard and leaking, and you stroked him firmly, feeling him pulse under your touch.
Eddie pulled back just enough to strip too, his lean frame shiny with perspiration, tattoos stark against the flush. He dove back in immediately, tongue relentless, fingers now plunging inside you to curl against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
You guided Steve forward, positioning him at your entrance while Eddie continued his assault, lips and tongue working your clit without mercy. Steve rubbed his tip along your folds, coating himself in your arousal mixed with Eddie's saliva, his eyes flicking to yours in silent question. When you nodded, he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the stretch making you cry out. He bottomed out with a shudder, holding still, forehead pressed to yours, breaths ragged as he adjusted to the heat enveloping him.
Eddie didn't stop, his mouth sucking harder, fingers thrusting in tandem with Steve's tentative rocks. The dual invasion overwhelmed you, body slick with sweat, pussy clenching around Steve as the first orgasm ripped through.
You came with a sob, soaking them both, but they persisted—Steve thrusting deeper now, dominant in his rhythm but glancing at you for cues, Eddie overworking your clit until you writhed, a wet, moaning puddle in their arms.
'Your turn,' you panted to Eddie, pulling him up. Steve slipped out reluctantly, stroking himself as he watched, eyes hooded. Eddie aligned himself, sliding into your drenched heat with a guttural moan, filling you completely.
He fucked you harder, hips snapping with dirty precision, hands worshipping your body—squeezing your ass, thumbs digging into your hips. Steve leaned in at your urging, mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking until it throbbed, fingers returning to your clit to rub circles that pushed you toward another edge.
The room reeked of sex and sweat, bodies slapping wetly, the wrongness evident in their paused thrusts, the way Steve's hand hesitated before gripping your waist tighter,
Eddie's eyes squeezing shut as if fighting the intensity. But the pleasure won out, undeniable. Eddie pounded through your second climax, your walls fluttering wildly, before he buried deep, cum spilling hot inside you with a strained groan.
Steve took over seamlessly, entering your cum-filled pussy, the slick mess making obscene sounds. He thrust with controlled power, bottom edge showing in how he let you set the pace with your legs around him, but dominant in the way he angled to hit deep. Eddie, not sated, kissed down your stomach, tongue lapping at where you joined, then sucking your clit again, overstimulating until tears pricked your eyes. You shattered once more, a trembling, soaked wreck, moans turning to pleas.
Steve followed soon after, grunting as he came, flooding you further, the warmth mixing inside.
They collapsed around you, bodies entwined in the humid aftermath, hesitancy melted into exhausted satisfaction, the night sealing your shared secret.
Summary: When Chrissy Cunningham turns up murdered, the town of Hawkins spirals into fear. A red envelope marked YOU appears in everyone’s pocket. A killer is hunting them. As the group barricades itself inside the Wheeler house, paranoia spikes, friendships fracture, and the night dissolves into terror. But there’s a truth lurking beneath the panic—something far more intimate, far more calculated.
WORDCOUNT: 10.4k
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, VIOLENCE, ANGST, MILD GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS, SWEARING, DRINKING, STRAP IN. major character deaths
People always said Hawkins was small enough that everyone knew everyone.
You knew that wasn’t true. You didn’t realise Chrissy Cunningham. Not really. Pretty. Quiet. Cheerleader. Dating Jason Carver. Sweet in a way that felt too gentle for the people she surrounded herself with.
You’d talked a handful of times, mainly in the hallways, sometimes in English class, and she was always kind. Soft in tone, soft in smile. Which made what happened to her feel… wrong.
Too ugly. Too deliberate for a girl like that. Disembowelled and throat-slashed in her neat, organised bedroom while her parents slept just down the hall.
No break-in. No stolen items. No defensive wounds. Just violence. Brutal, purposeful violence.
And in a town like Hawkins, where nothing ever happened, her murder hit like a fault line cracking straight through every routine you used to trust. Even your friend group — this strange, mismatched collection of people who somehow stuck together — felt the shift the moment news broke.
Steve had been hovering again.
You noticed it in the way he lingered — leaning against doorframes, standing a little too close, pretending to reorganise tapes at Family Video just so he could keep you in his line of sight.
When you grabbed your coat to have a smoke outside, he stepped in front of the exit before you could reach it.
“You’re not going out there alone,” he said, voice firm in that bossy-big-brother way he tried to tone down but never really managed. “Not with everything that’s been happening.”
You groaned. “Steve. It’s three streets.”
“And Chrissy lived two streets from here,” he shot back, lowering his voice like the words themselves might shatter something. “Come on. Just—humour me.”
Before you could argue, Robin popped up behind the counter, practically spilling a stack of returns in her rush to intervene.
“Steve,” she huffed, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “You’re suffocating her. People can walk. Walking still exists.”
“I’m not suffocating,” he said, even as he hovered at your elbow like a golden retriever guarding a steak. “I’m… looking out.”
Robin shook her head, mumbling, “If you get any more protective, she’s gonna need a crowbar to pry you off.”
You snorted. Steve looked mortally offended.
Robin looked pleased with herself.
A moment later, the bell over the door jingled again. Nancy and Jonathan stepped in with matching shadows under their eyes. They didn’t greet anyone at first — they scanned the place, taking stock, constantly two steps ahead of everyone else.
Steve went still.
You felt it before you saw it—the way the air around him tightened, the way his jaw clenched just a little too quickly, the way his smile slipped into something practised and painfully polite. He didn’t say a word, but the look he gave Nancy was soft in a way he probably wished it wasn’t. And the look he gave Jonathan wasn’t mean… just tired. Heavy. Like old bruises pressing against bone.
Nancy brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning closer to Jonathan as she whispered something, their shoulders almost touching. Whatever it was, Jonathan huffed a quiet, worried laugh, and Nancy touched his arm without thinking.
Steve swallowed.
Just a slight movement. Barely anything. But it landed like a punch.
Nancy’s fingers tightened around her notebook when she caught sight of the “In Loving Memory of Chrissy Cunningham” paper taped by the register. Jonathan quietly shut the blinds, like he didn’t want the outside world peering in.
The younger boys arrived next.
Mike slammed the door shut behind him, demanding, “Did anyone follow us?”
Lucas rolled his eyes but checked the parking lot anyway — a quick peek through the blinds before dropping them again. Dustin set his backpack on the counter and started rummaging through it with military urgency.
“We need a plan,” Dustin declared. “We’re dealing with a maniac. A real one. No more messing around.”
Their voices were deeper now, their frames taller, but there were flashes — a frantic gesture, a worried glance — that reminded you of the little kids who used to ride bikes past your porch every summer.
Lucas paused, noticing the tension in your shoulders.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded because that’s what you were supposed to do.
Then the last one came in.
Eddie kicked the door shut with his heel, breath fogging in the cold as he waltzed inside like he hadn’t been watching the parking lot the whole walk up.
He flashed a big, cocky grin to the younger boys, unnecessary, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Those went straight to you.
“Alright,” he announced, tossing his hair back dramatically. “Which one of you nerds scheduled this emergency meeting while I’m supposed to be playing the Hideout? I brought Twizzlers, by the way”
“Chrissy Cunningham is dead, and all you care about is your little band and candy?” You huffed, anger flooding your veins, but Robin quickly grabbed your hand beneath the counter, calming you.
Robin gave your hand a gentle squeeze under the counter, her eyes flicking to you with that “don’t blow it” look she’d perfected over years of chaos. You let out a frustrated sigh, curling your fingers around hers for a second before pulling back, still tense.
Eddie, oblivious to the gravity in the room, let his grin falter slightly when he saw your expression. “Okay… fine,” he said, voice dropping just enough to show he knew something serious was going on. “Dead girl. Scary stuff. Got it. No candy jokes.”
Steve, still rigid by the doorframe, ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. His gaze bounced between Nancy and Jonathan, whose closeness felt like a deliberate push in a wound no one else had noticed. Every slight touch, Nancy brushing a strand of hair from Jonathan’s forehead, his hand lingering just a second longer on her notebook—made Steve’s chest tighten in a way that wasn’t just worry about Chrissy.
Mike, crouched at the edge of the counter with Lucas and Dustin, muttered under his breath, voice tight: “It’s… the same day. The same day Will went missing, years ago.”
Lucas’s eyes widened. Dustin froze mid-gesture, fingers still clutching a pencil over a hastily sketched map of Hawkins. Even Eddie’s grin slipped into a frown.
You felt it immediately—the unease, the weight of history pressing down. Hawkins had never fully shaken the old fear, the memory of Will’s disappearance lingering in corners of everyone’s mind, unspoken but always there. And now, Chrissy’s death brought it all rushing back like a gust of cold wind.
Nancy finally spoke, her voice sharp but steady. “We all need to be careful. And we need to be honest with each other. No secrets. Not now.”
Everyone went quiet, the room thick with unspoken dread. Then, one by one, each of you reached into your pockets.
Steve’s fingers brushed something small and flat before he pulled it out: a red envelope. He stared at it for a long beat, then slowly opened it. Inside was a single word, written in cursive black letters:
YOU.
Robin’s hand came next, shaking slightly as she withdrew her own identical envelope. Her eyes flicked to Steve’s, then to yours. Same red. Same black letters.
YOU.
She dropped it onto the counter with a soft, almost terrified sigh.
Nancy’s envelope followed, her fingers steady, but her jaw tight as she read the word. Jonathan’s was identical; he held it a second longer than necessary, as if he were bracing for it to mean something else, something worse.
Mike pulled his out, muttering under his breath, voice tight and low, “It’s… the same day. The same day, Will went missing.”
Lucas froze, eyes wide, and Dustin let his pencil clatter to the counter as he stared at the red note before him. Even Eddie, usually so cocky, went pale. He flicked the paper open and back, as if confirming it wasn’t a trick of the light.
Finally, you took yours out. The red envelope felt heavier than it should. You unfolded it slowly.
YOU.
One word. Ten of you. Ten identical notes.
The silence that followed was deafening. Steve’s hand twitched. Robin’s fingers hovered over the envelope as if it might bite her. Nancy glanced at Jonathan, whose eyes shifted nervously to the blinds before returning to the note. And Eddie… all Eddie would look at was you. When your eyes caught him, his eyes quickly shifted focus.
It wasn’t a coincidence. Whoever had left these had singled you all out. And now the room felt smaller, colder, like the walls themselves were closing in.
Hawkins had always hidden its secrets behind quiet streets and small-town routines—but this? This was different. This was a warning.
And you were all marked.
Eddie shoved his hands into his pockets, pacing slightly, curls falling into his eyes. “Come on,” he said, voice loud enough to cut through the room, but with an edge that betrayed the unease he tried to mask. “This could just be a hoax. Someone is trying to freak us out. There’s no proof we’re next. It’s probably just someone being a total idiot.”
Steve’s jaw tightened. “A hoax?” he repeated, voice sharp. “Chrissy Cunningham is dead, Eddie. This isn’t a prank.”
Eddie waved a hand dismissively. “Exactly why it could be a prank. Small town, scary story, freak people out. Classic setup. Doesn’t mean anyone’s actually coming after us.”
You stepped forward, voice low and firm, cutting through the tension. “We are the only ones who know what happened to Will Byers. November 1983.”
The room went silent. Jonathan stiffened instantly, fingers tightening on the edge of his notebook. His jaw set hard, eyes narrowing, a shadow of old pain flashing across his face. Will—his brother—had disappeared that night. He had carried that fear and helplessness for years. And now… this.
Dustin froze mid-motion, pencil still hovering over his hastily drawn map of Hawkins. Lucas and Mike exchanged sharp, worried glances. Nancy’s eyes sharpened, jaw tight, but all of them felt it—the weight of what you’d just said. Even Robin stopped fiddling with her envelope, gaze locked on you.
Nancy ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath as she tried to steady the room. “Listen,” she said, voice calm but firm, “We need to stick together. All of us. Sleep at each other’s houses. Don’t go anywhere alone. Not now.”
“Does that mean slumber party at Harringtons?” Eddie joked, looking over at Lucas and Dustin,
Steve frowned, stepping closer, hands on his hips. “Of course, we stick together,” he said, voice a little too sharp, eyes flicking toward Jonathan. “But we can’t just hide away forever. We need—”
“I don’t want to be around any of you right now,” Jonathan cut in, his tone cold, clipped. His hands were shoved into his pockets, jaw tight. “Not tonight, not while this… all of this is happening. I need space.”
Steve’s face tightened, anger flashing. “Space? This isn’t about you wanting space, Jonathan! This is about all of us staying safe—”
“You don’t get it,” Jonathan snapped, stepping back. “You don’t get what it’s like to have your little brother… taken from you. To know how fragile everything is. I can’t— I can’t be around people pretending they’re safe while there’s a killer out there!”
Steve’s mouth opened, then closed. He ran a hand through his hair, voice low and strained. “Jonathan—”
“No.” Jonathan’s voice cut across him, firm and final. “I’m staying away. I need to be alone. Don’t try to follow me.”
Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming hard behind him.
The room fell silent, the thump of his exit echoing in the still air. Steve stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides. Nancy let out a sigh, rubbing her temples. Dustin and Lucas exchanged worried looks.
Eddie muttered, voice tight, “Well… that’s… not great.” You glare at him.
Mike just stared after the door, tension written across his features. “He’s right, I mean, give him a break”, he said softly. “But… still. We have to do something. Together.”
You glanced at the envelopes in everyone’s hands—the black letters marked YOU. The threat wasn’t just outside. It was in the cracks of the people you thought you knew.
“Look, our mom and dad are out of town,” Nancy glanced at Mike. “Robin and Y/N can crash in my room, Lucas and Dustin in Mike's, and the rest in the basement,”
Steve threw his hands in the air. “Great, I’m stuck in the creepiest room of the whole house.”
Eddie put his arm around Steve, “It’s okay, Stevie, we can cuddle, I’ll be big spoon.”
Steve recoiled as Eddie slid an arm around his shoulders. “Quit it, Eddie”
“I’m just helping you cope, Stevie,” Eddie said, grin tight, eyes darting nervously around the room. “Safety in numbers, right?” You couldn’t help but smile at his humour.
Steve’s patience snapped. He shoved Eddie lightly but firmly off him. “Back off,” he snapped, stepping between Eddie and the counter. “This isn’t about your stupid jokes. Focus!”
Robin groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh my God, you two are insufferable. I’m definitely rooming with Nancy and Y/N”
Nancy waved a hand, trying to regain control. “Ignore them. The point is, we stick together tonight. Phones off, doors locked, windows shut. We need to be alert.”
Dustin’s pencil hovered over his map, shaking slightly. “I want shifts—someone stays up, someone monitors the doors, someone checks the street every ten minutes—”
“Relax, Dustin,” Mike said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure out shifts. Calm down.”
Steve finally exhaled, voice lower, steadying the group. “Alright. We stick together. We watch each other. No wandering. No secrets. We survive the night, that’s the plan.”
You met his gaze, and for the first time since Eddie’s interruption, the group felt like a single, if uneasy, unit.
“I… I need to go home and grab a few things,” you said, tugging at your jacket nervously. “I’m not sleeping in my work clothes”
Steve’s protective instincts kicked in instantly. “I’ll drive you,” he said, voice firm, like there was no other option.
Robin groaned, stepping closer. “Steve, I need a ride too. And I’m not cloning up the store on my own,”
Steve opened his mouth to argue, but then Eddie leaned against the counter, hands stuffed in his pockets, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll drive Y/N. My van’s out front.. Saves time.”
Steve blinked, caught off guard. “Your van? Eddie, that thing looks like it’s held together with duct tape and prayers!”
Eddie shrugged. “Runs fine. Mostly. Come on, Killer on the loose, I’d take my chances with my van,”
Steve stared between you, Robin, and Eddie, torn between responsibility and protectiveness. “I don’t like it,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to like it,” Eddie shot back lightly, though his eyes flicked with something more serious. “It’s just a ride.”
You grabbed your jacket. “Steve, I’ll be fine. Really.”
He huffed, defeated. “Fine. But Eddie?”
Eddie raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“You drive carefully,” Steve said, pointing at him like a warning.
Eddie grinned. “Scouts honour.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “You were never a scout.”
“Exactly,” Eddie said, smirking.
You followed Eddie out of the store, the air cool and still as the door shut behind you. The parking lot was quiet, unusually so, and every shadow seemed just a little too long.
Eddie unlocked the van and swung the passenger door open with a small, dramatic bow. “Your chariot awaits.”
You climbed in, settling into the worn seat as Eddie shut his door and started the engine. It growled to life—loud, rattling, stubborn—but alive.
As he pulled out of the lot, he gave you a quick side glance. “So… you good? Or should I prepare for you to freak out halfway there?”
You exhaled slowly, gripping your bag. “I’m fine. Just… let’s get home.”
You watched Hawkins slip past the van window, the familiar streets feeling suddenly alien under the dim streetlights. Your stomach knotted as you saw the yellow police tape flapping in the breeze around Chrissy Cunningham’s house, Sheriff Hopper standing nearby, murmuring into his radio.
—
“Home for the night,” Eddie said, voice low. He didn’t move, didn’t comment on the cigarette—just watched the street, alert, waiting.
You grabbed your bag and swung the door open, stepping onto the quiet driveway. Gravel crunched under your boots, oddly loud in the still night.
You offered a small, wry smile, then headed up the steps and through Nancy’s front door, the warmth of the house swallowing you like a small, fragile shield against the tension outside.
Inside, the quiet was almost comforting, but the weight of the red “YOU” notes lingered in your mind. Tonight, everyone would have to stay together—walls, doors, and windows couldn’t keep out what had already marked you.
The instant you stepped inside, Steve was there, pulling you into a firm, almost protective hug. “Hey… you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. It wasn’t overbearing—just a solid, grounding presence. You let yourself lean into it for a moment, letting the tension in your shoulders ease slightly.
When you pulled back, Steve’s eyes flicked toward Eddie, who was leaning against the doorway, smirking just a little. Steve’s look was sharp but measured, a silent acknowledgement of respect for the fact that Eddie had gotten you here safely. Eddie met it with a small, almost imperceptible nod, and that brief exchange passed like a secret between them.
Nancy appeared in the hallway, ushering you forward. “Come on, I’ll help you settle in,” she said, guiding you to her room. The warmth of the house was a slight relief from the cold, tense night outside. You dropped your bag on the bed as Nancy helped fluff pillows and make space for you.
From the living room, the younger boys’ voices drifted up, a comforting hum of normalcy. They were sitting around the coffee table, playing cards, the clatter of cards and occasional laughter grounding the house in something familiar. Mike peeked up from the game, giving you a small, encouraging smile, while Lucas and Dustin concentrated fiercely on their hands, trying to ignore the heavy mood hanging over the house. Eddie walked over, ruffling Dustin's hat
You sank onto the edge of Nancy’s bed, running a hand over the comforter. “Have you heard from Jonathan?” you ask.
Nancy’s hands paused on the pillow she was adjusting. For a second, her expression flickered—worry, frustration, something deeper tucked beneath it.
She shook her head lightly. “No. Not since he left.” Her voice was steady, but the way her thumb worried the corner of the pillowcase betrayed the tension she was holding in her shoulders. “I’m… trying not to push. He needs space, and if I start chasing him right now, he’ll just run farther.”
You nodded, though the knot in your stomach tightened. Jonathan storming off into the night—with a killer loose, with red envelopes showing up in your pockets—felt like the worst kind of gamble.
Nancy sat beside you, smoothing her hair back with a practiced motion. “He’s not stupid,” she added quietly, more to reassure herself than you. “He knows how to take care of himself. He just… doesn’t want to be here right now.”
Her voice dipped on that last part.
Downstairs, a burst of laughter cut through the tension—Lucas slapping a card onto the table, Dustin groaning dramatically, Mike insisting someone was cheating. Eddie’s voice rose over the commotion, loud and theatrical:
“Dustin Henderson, if you accuse me of rigging the deck one more time, I swear I’ll hex your dice for the next three campaigns—”
“YOU can’t hex dice, that’s not even a thing,” Dustin shouted back.
“Not with that attitude!” Eddie retorted.
Their voices floated up the stairs, warm and familiar and messy—something that didn’t belong to a night like this, but somehow made it a little easier to breathe.
Nancy let out a small, strained laugh. “At least they’re… being themselves.”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “Feels normal. Kind of.”
She reached over, squeezing your hand gently. “We’re going to get through tonight. Together. We’ll keep each other safe.”
You nodded, meeting her steady gaze. The determination there was a sharp contrast to the exhaustion around her eyes—but it was real. Solid. Nancy Wheeler didn’t crumble under fear; she built plans on top of it.
A sudden set of footsteps pounded up the stairs—then Steve appeared in the doorway, leaning on the frame.
“Just checking in,” he said, scanning the room, then you, then Nancy. “Everything good?”
“We’re good,” Nancy answered, folding her arms.
He nodded, relief flickering across his features before he glanced at you again—long enough to make sure you were really okay.
“Dinner’s… well, Robin’s trying to make grilled cheese,” Steve added, grimacing. “So if the smoke alarm goes off, nobody panics.”
From downstairs:
“STEVE! IT’S NOT BURNT, IT’S JUST… ADVANCED!”
Steve rolled his eyes. “See what I mean?”
Despite everything, a small laugh slipped out of you.
Steve caught it—his shoulders loosened.
“Anyway,” he said softly, “take your time. But… don’t close the door all the way, okay? Just… in case.”
Nancy gave him a pointed look—one that said I already have a plan for tonight, Harrington—but he ignored it.
He pushed off the doorframe and headed back downstairs, the sounds of the group swallowing him up.
Nancy returned her attention to you, voice gentler now.
“Get changed. I’ll grab extra blankets.”
Before she stepped out, she paused, glancing back at the phone on her bedside table
“If Jonathan calls… tell me right away.”
There was something fragile in the way she said it, something that made your chest tighten.
Then she slipped out, leaving you with your bag, the muffled bickering from downstairs, and the soft hum of a house trying desperately to feel safe.
—-
The dining room lights glowed warm and low, casting soft shadows across the table. Plates clinked, silverware scraped, and the faint smell of slightly over-toasted bread hung in the air — Robin’s “advanced” grilled cheese.
Everyone was crammed around the Wheeler dining table, elbows brushing, knees knocking, the whole scene too domestic for the weight sitting on all your shoulders.
You sat between Steve and Nancy.
Which meant you were stuck squarely in the blast radius.
Nancy ate with precise, quiet motions, her fork cutting clean lines through her sandwich. Steve, on the other hand, tore into his like it had personally offended him — jaw tight, eyes fixed on something that wasn’t his plate.
Every time Nancy shifted, Steve’s eyes flicked her way.
Every time Steve breathed too loudly, Nancy’s shoulders tensed.
The air between them was thick enough to choke on.
Nobody mentioned Jonathan.
Opposite you, Eddie lounged back in his chair, one boot braced against the table leg, chewing loudly on his grilled cheese like he was auditioning for a commercial. He caught your eye and wiggled his brows, clearly enjoying the discomfort radiating off the other two.
Robin sat beside him, sniffing suspiciously at her own sandwich. “Okay, be honest,” she said, pointing her crust at Dustin. “Is it bad? Because Steve said he liked it and Steve lies to protect my feelings.”
“I do not lie—” Steve started.
“STEVE,” Robin cut in, “you once told me my bangs looked fine when they made me look like a startled raccoon.”
Steve groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Can we not—”
“It’s edible,” Dustin declared, giving Robin a thumbs-up.
Mike shrugged. “Better than Mom’s tuna surprise.”
“Everything is better than your Mom’s tuna surprise,” Lucas muttered.
Nancy hid a tiny, involuntary laugh behind her napkin. Steve’s head turned toward her immediately — too sharply, too much hope in it — and she felt it. You felt it. Everybody felt it.
She forced the smile down, focusing on her plate.
Eddie leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Damn, Harrington. Thought you’d have moved on from pining by now.”
Steve choked on air. “I’m not— I wasn’t— Eddie, shut up.”
Nancy went rigid, Mike dropped his fork as Lucas sucked in a slow, painful breath. Robin muttered, “Oh God,” into her sandwich.
Eddie just smirked at Steve like a cat that had found a weak spot in the fence.
You kicked Eddie under the table.
Hard.
He jolted, eyes widening. “Ow— okay, okay. Jesus.” He held his hands up. “Fine. No more romance commentary at the table.”
Steve didn’t look at anyone. His jaw ticked. His knee bounced hard enough that you could feel it through your chair.
Nancy finally spoke, voice soft, polite, painfully neutral.
“Focus on the food, Eddie.”
“Copy that, Wheeler.” Eddie took a loud bite.
The tension didn’t dissipate — it just shifted, settling like static across the table. You could practically feel Steve vibrating beside you, and Nancy sinking deeper into her thoughts on your other side.
You slowly reached for your water.
You reached for your water glass, fingers brushing against the cool condensation—
—and another hand touched yours.
Eddie’s.
Just the barest graze of his knuckles against your fingers, a brief, accidental-on-purpose kind of contact as he reached for his own glass at the same time. His hand lingered for a second too long — warm, calloused, unmistakably intentional.
Your breath caught.
Eddie didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he took a slow sip, eyes forward, pretending nothing had happened. But then his gaze flicked up, quick, unreadable, almost flirting with the idea of touch again.
Across the table, Robin didn’t notice, too busy analysing the structural integrity of her grilled cheese.
But Nancy did.
Her eyes darted toward you, then toward Eddie, a flicker of something like curiosity crossing her face.
And Steve… Steve definitely noticed. His brows twitched, jaw tightening just enough to betray the brewing storm behind his forced calm.
Eddie caught Steve’s reaction out of the corner of his eye and smothered a grin behind his glass.
You pulled your hand back slowly, pulse ticking in your throat. The slight touch shouldn’t have meant anything — but the night was heavy, the tension thick, and Eddie’s warmth still tingled against your skin like electricity trying to find a way out.
Before anyone could comment, Robin clapped her hands loudly.
“So!” she announced, practically yelling. “Dessert. Pop-Tarts. Who’s in?”
The whole table jolted.
And the moment, your moment, slipped quietly into the noisy, awkward scramble that followed.
But Eddie still watched you over the rim of his glass.
And he knew you felt it.
He knew.
—
A half hour later, the house had settled into an uneasy imitation of normalcy. Everyone had migrated to the living room, plates scraped clean, the empty grilled cheese pan abandoned in the kitchen sink. Lamps glowed warm against the dark windows, and someone had tossed a couple of blankets onto the floor.
Robin burst in from the foyer with a stack of VHS tapes in her arms, nearly tripping over Mike’s feet.
“Okay!” she announced dramatically. “Family Video provided us with some quality entertainment tonight. And by quality, I mean stuff Keith said nobody rents anymore, which makes them perfect for us.”
She dumped the stack onto the coffee table. Cases fanned out like a macabre hand of cards.
“Uhh, Halloween…. Texas Chainsaw Massacre…Friday the 13th,”
“Did you purely bring Slasher films?” I ask.
“I have a strange humour when nervous,” Robin shrugs her shoulders.
Robin began tallying votes with the seriousness of a presidential election. “Okay, so far we have: one for Halloween, one for Chain Saw, one traumatised Nancy—”
While she was distributing ballots made out of torn napkins, your attention drifted.
Eddie had slipped away from the main cluster of people. He wandered casually toward the dining room hutch—too casually—and crouched down like he was totally, absolutely innocent and definitely not doing anything suspicious.
You shifted in your seat, watching him pull open a polished cabinet door.
Nancy’s parents’ liquor cabinet.
Your brows rose as he rummaged inside, pushing aside untouched bottles of whiskey, vodka, and something fancy enough to have a gold label. Eddie glanced over his shoulder once, making sure Nancy wasn’t looking, then reached for a bottle of Jack Daniels like a raccoon discovering a treasure chest.
He held it up triumphantly—then froze when he saw your eyes on him.
Slowly… dramatically… he pressed a finger to his lips.
Shhh.
You tried not to smile. Tried and failed. His grin widened just enough to show he was pleased with himself.
Across the room, Steve snapped his fingers. “Hey! Y/N! You voting or what?”
You tore your gaze from Eddie just as he slipped the bottle under his jacket, whistling like the world’s worst undercover agent.
Robin waved a napkin ballot at you. “Last vote before democracy dies!”
Eddie sauntered back into the group, looking far too smug.
“Halloween,” you called out, eyes not leaving Eddie. And you couldn’t help thinking, Slasher movies weren’t the only dangerous thing in the room tonight.
The lights were off, except for the faint glow of the TV and a single lamp behind the couch, casting everything in warm, murky gold. The living room wasn’t meant to hold this many people — especially not this tightly — but nobody complained. Nobody wanted space tonight.
Blankets piled on the floor. Bowls of half-eaten popcorn sat abandoned on the coffee table. The opening credits of Halloween flickered across the screen, that synth theme crawling up your spine like cold fingers.
Everyone had squeezed themselves into whatever space they could claim.
Mike, Lucas, and Dustin were crammed shoulder-to-shoulder on the carpet. Robin sat cross-legged in front of the couch, leaning back against Steve’s shins. Nancy perched on the arm of the couch like she was afraid to sink into comfort.
And you—
You were wedged between Steve and Eddie on the sofa, so close your knees brushed both of theirs whenever you shifted.
Steve sat rigidly, arms folded, jaw tight, pretending he wasn’t wound like a spring. He kept glancing toward Nancy, who steadfastly watched the screen as if concentration could hold her whole world together.
Eddie had slouched the second he sat down, legs spread, arm thrown over the back of the couch behind you. Not touching you. Not quite. But close enough that you felt the ghost of his sleeve against your shoulders.
The movie had barely started when Eddie’s fingers — the hand draped behind you — shifted.
Not obviously.
Just enough that his knuckles brushed the back of your shoulder.
Light. Casual. Testing.
Your breath hitched.
Steve noticed.
He didn’t say anything, but his jaw clenched so hard you heard the faint grind of teeth. His knee jostled against yours, the tension rolling off him in waves.
On the carpet, Dustin whispered, “Dude, shh, this is the good part,” loudly enough that everyone heard.
You tried to focus on the movie.
The theme music thumped like a heartbeat. Laurie Strode walked down her quiet neighborhood street. Pumpkins glowed on porches. Leaves blew across the pavement.
A normal night that wasn’t normal anymore.
Robin tossed popcorn in the air and missed her mouth entirely. “God, I forgot how much I hate that mask,” she hissed.
“Kevlar-face Kirk,” Eddie whispered back. “He’s the patron saint of bad vibes.”
You snorted. Too loud.
Steve shot you a look — half fond, half jealous — that twisted something low in your stomach.
Your ankle brushed Eddie’s boot. You didn’t know who moved first. Neither of you pulled away.
Outside the TV’s glow, the rest of the house felt impossibly dark. The weight of the red notes sat heavy behind all of you — a silent threat, waiting.
But here, for a moment, you were warm. Pressed between two people who would die before they let anything happen to you.
Another tense scene played. Laurie walking faster. The shape behind her. The music building.
Eddie leaned forward just slightly, elbows on his knees. From the corner of your eye, you saw the neck of the stolen Jack Daniels bottle peeking from beneath his jacket, hidden between the couch cushions.
You nudged him.
He looked at you out of the side of his eye, smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Later”, he mouthed.
And somehow, that made your pulse trip faster than the slasher on the screen.
The movie continued, shadows stretching, screams sharp, tension thick.
And in the tight space between Eddie’s shoulder and Steve’s arm, you felt every charged second of it — every brush, every glance, every shift of breath.
—--
The Wheeler backyard was quiet in that eerie, suburban-after-midnight way — too still, too dark, too normal for a night like this. The porch light buzzed weakly above you and Eddie, casting a dull cone of yellow over the patchy grass while crickets hummed somewhere beyond the fence.
You and Eddie sat on the old wooden steps, a near-empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting between you like some forbidden offering you’d both already accepted.
You flicked your lighter, took a drag, and let the smoke burn down your throat before curling into the cold night air.
Eddie plucked the bottle up and tipped it back, finishing the last swallow with a grimace. “Jesus H— that’ll put hair on your chest.”
You smirked. “Don’t think you need any more.”
He shot you an offended look through a curtain of curls. “Are you calling me hairy?”
“I’m calling you feral.”
Eddie grinned, unable to stop himself. He handed you the bottle. “Finish it. I’m pretty sure this is top-shelf stuff. Wheeler Sr.’s prized secret stash. The kind he hides behind tax documents and ‘don’t touch’ labels.”
You felt the ghost of his warmth on the glass. “Nancy’s dad is gonna kill us.”
“Nah,” Eddie said, leaning back on his elbows, boots braced on the step below. “He’ll blame the killer.” He paused “Or Steve. Probably Steve.”
You huffed a small laugh and took a swallow. The whiskey was warm and sharp, settling into you like a slow, dangerous flame.
Eddie’s eyes followed the motion of your throat as you swallowed. He didn’t bother hiding it.
The porch light flickered.
He lit his cigarette with a cupped hand, the flame briefly illuminating the cut of his cheekbones and the soft warmth in his eyes. For a long moment, neither of you spoke — trading the cigarette silently now that the bottle was gone, the muffled sounds of the slasher movie leaking through the living room walls.
Distant screams. Dustin yelling about plot holes. Robin’s dramatic commentary.
Eddie blew out a slow stream of smoke, watching it dissolve into the dark. “Y’know,” he said, voice low and honest, “I didn’t think tonight would feel so surreal.”
You nudged him. “Because of the murder?”
He shook his head, curls brushing his forehead. “Because of the company.”
Heat pooled low in your stomach — whiskey, smoke, or him, you weren’t sure.
He nudged your knee with his own. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured. “You’re gonna make me say something stupid.”
“Like what?” you whispered.
His smirk turned softer, closer. “Like how you’re the only person I’d risk Wheeler Senior’s wrath for… just to steal his fancy-ass liquor.”
Your breath hitched.
The porch light buzzed again. The night went very still.
Eddie’s fingers brushed yours as he took the cigarette back. Not accidental. Not subtle. His knee pressed into yours, warm and steady. He leaned closer — enough that his breath warmed your cheek, enough that his eyes flicked to your mouth and lingered.
You tilted toward him.
He moved in too — slow, deliberate, careful in a way Eddie Munson wasn’t usually careful.
Your noses nearly brushed.
His voice dropped, barely a whisper. “If we kiss right now, sweetheart… .”
Your lips parted—
SLAM.
The back door banged open.
“WHAT THE HELL!?” Steve’s voice cracked in outrage.
You and Eddie jerked apart so hard he almost toppled off the step.
Robin pointed at the empty bottle like it was evidence in a crime. “OH MY GOD, THEY’RE DRINKING.” Robin darted over, crouching next to m,e “You could have at least invited me, Y/N”. Robin grabbed the bottle, taking a sip
Nancy stepped onto the porch, robe tight, eyes wide in alarm before flattening into exhausted resignation. “Oh.”
Steve pointed at you like a stressed-out PTA mom. “ Are you two INSANE? Killer on the loose...”
Eddie, leaning a little too far to one side, raised a solemn hand. “Listen, Harrington… there is a killer out there. A killer. Alcohol is coping. We are coping.”
Robin nodded thoughtfully. “He… might have a point.”
Nancy sighed. Long. Deep. Bone-tired. “You know what? Fine. Fine. With everything going on? If there was ever a night to break into that cabinet…”
Eddie whooped victoriously — then nearly fell forward.
Something cracked — tension, fear, dread — all splitting open at once.
And for the first time all night, you all laughed.
—
The living room was a mess. Glorious, drunken chaos.
Nancy’s cassette player blasted The Bangles, the familiar pop-rock filling the warm room. Steve was pacing back and forth, occasionally flipping the tape like he was DJing at Studio 54, his tie loosened and shirt sleeves rolled up. Robin was mid-spin in the centre of the room, flailing her arms like a jazz dancer who didn’t care if she hit anyone.
Eddie was grinning from ear to ear, moving like he owned the space, every step exaggerated, every gesture theatrical, as if the end of the world could start tomorrow and he wouldn’t care.
You were laughing breathlessly, holding onto his hands as he spun you around, stumbling together until he caught you by the waist. His face was flushed, eyes bright, and his grin was contagious.
“You,” he panted, leaning close enough that your noses nearly brushed, “are the best kind of trouble.”
You laughed, dizzy from spinning and warmth. “We’re all trouble tonight.”
He stared at you — really stared — warm, soft, and just a little wrecked.
“We could’ve kissed earlier,” he murmured.
“But we were interrupted,” You murmur, nose nearly touching his.
“Stupid interruptions,” his eyes looking at your lips.
You blinked, pulling back slightly from Eddie, and your gaze drifted across the room. Steve and Nancy were dancing together, bodies moving to the beat with that familiar mix of clumsy and deliberate rhythm. Nancy laughed, tilting her head back, her hair catching the light. Steve smiled at her, but every few seconds his eyes flicked toward you, like he couldn’t help himself.
Eddie followed your line of sight, his grin widening. “Look at him,” he muttered, low enough that only you could hear, “the great Steve Harrington, losing focus over you instead of Nancy.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your blush. “He’s not… he’s just… uh… making sure no one trips over a coffee table?”
“Sure,” Eddie said, mock-serious, his hands back on your waist as he spun you again, “that’s totally it.”
Steve, oblivious to your whispered exchange, finally broke away from Nancy for a moment, swaying closer toward the middle of the room. His eyes met yours just long enough to make your stomach flutter before he jerked back, pretending to check his footing.
You caught Eddie watching your reactions like a hawk, a teasing gleam in his eye. “You know he’s going to stare at you the whole night, right?” he murmured.
You smirked, leaning in close, the music thumping around you. “And you’re going to enjoy it, aren’t you?”
“Hell yeah,” he whispered back, the warmth of his chest pressing against yours. He lightly pressed his lips against yours.
You froze for just a second, heart hammering, before melting into the warmth pressing against you. Eddie’s lips lingered lightly, teasing, playful, but there was something electric in the press of them — a promise wrapped in daring. The music thumped around you, loud enough to mask the pounding of your heart, the chaos of the room fading into a blur.
Your hands instinctively found his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you leaned in closer. The scent of him — cigarette smoke, whiskey, something distinctly Eddie — wrapped around you, making the air between you taut and impossibly close.
A sudden burst of laughter behind you broke the spell. Robin was twirling near the corner of the room, arms outstretched, and Steve and Nancy were spinning again, oblivious to everything except their own rhythm. Steve’s eyes flicked toward you once more, just long enough for a pang of awareness to hit your chest.
Eddie smirked against your lips, voice a low murmur. “Ignore the world. Right here. Right now.”
You couldn’t help it — a laugh bubbled up in spite of everything. You pressed your forehead to his, breathing mingling, hearts racing in tandem with the music. For a moment, all the fear, the tension, and the red envelopes seemed miles away, reduced to nothing more than background noise to this dizzy, intoxicating closeness.
And then, somewhere between another spin and another laugh, Eddie whispered, “Yeah… this is the kind of trouble I like.”
You smiled against him, warmth and mischief dancing in your chest, as the room swirled around you both — chaotic, alive, and perfectly, dangerously yours.
Eddie leaned in again, brushing his lips against yours lightly, teasingly, just enough to make your pulse spike. He pulled back slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Gotta take a leak,” he murmured, voice low and playful, though his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than necessary.
Before you could respond, he winked and slipped away, heading upstairs, leaving a trace of warmth and mischief in his wake.
You watched Eddie’s retreating back until he disappeared up the stairs, the faint creak of the steps marking his absence. Your fingers lingered where his had brushed yours, heat curling through your chest.
Steve appeared at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. “What the hell was that about?” he asked, voice low but sharp, clearly annoyed.
You blinked at him, tilting your head. “Why do you care?” you shot back, trying to sound casual, though your pulse betrayed you.
Steve stepped closer, irritation written all over him. “I mean—come on. That was… I don’t even know. You’re kissing Eddie right here, in front of everyone!”
You leaned back, smirking a little, though heat crept into your cheeks. “Yeah, well… he’s not exactly subtle either.”
Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh, seriously? I mean—can you not?” His gaze flicked toward the staircase where Eddie had gone, frustration tightening every line of his body.
You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Relax, Steve. It’s just a kiss. No one died.”
Steve let out a sharp huff, clearly not convinced. “It’s not that it’s ‘just a kiss,’ it’s—ugh, never mind. Forget I asked.” He muttered the last part, muttering to himself, but the annoyed tension in his stance didn’t disappear.
You grinned, shaking your head. “Sure, Harrington. I’ll forget.”
Steve huffed again, muttering under his breath as he wandered toward the kitchen, clearly still annoyed—but you knew he’d be thinking about it the rest of the night.
Eddie reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, hands casually wiped on his black jeans, the slight smirk still tugging at his lips as if nothing had changed.
The warm hum of the living room felt a little too fragile when a sharp knock rattled against the front door.
Heads snapped toward it. Tension rippled through the group.
“Not again,” Nancy muttered, eyes narrowing.
Robin peeked around the couch, voice low. “Who… who would it be now?”
Steve’s jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides. “No way I’m opening that. Not without knowing who—”
Before anyone could finish, the door creaked open slowly. Standing there in the dim porch light was Jonathan. His shoulders were tense, eyes wary, but there was a faint relief in the way he exhaled when he saw everyone.
“Jonathan?” Nancy said, voice soft but sharp. Nancy softened, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend.
The warm relief of Jonathan’s arrival barely registered before a piercing scream ripped through the house.
Everyone froze. The laughter, the music, the teasing—all of it died in an instant.
“Upstairs!” Steve barked, already charging toward the staircase. You and Eddie followed without hesitation, your hearts hammering. Nancy and Robin were right behind, fear etched into every line of their faces.
When you burst into the boys’ room, the scene was worse than you could have imagined.
Mike was sitting on the floor, shaking, tears streaking down his face, a guttural sob escaping his throat. His tiny hands clutched his knees as if they could protect him from the horror in front of him.
Lucas and Dustin lay in their sleeping bags, eyes wide open, throats slashed. The blood glistened under the pale light from the hall, stark and brutal. Silence seemed impossible to hold, yet the room had swallowed it all, leaving only a horrifying stillness.
“Oh God… oh God…” Nancy whispered, her hands flying to her mouth as she stumbled closer, her face drained of color. Robin had her hands over her mouth too, eyes wide, shaking.
“T‑They… they were asleep,” he whispered, staring straight ahead as if afraid to blink. “I—I woke up because… because something felt warm…”
Steve’s face tightened. “Warm?”
Mike swallowed, a strangled sob escaping as he wiped his nose with the back of his shaking hand.
“It… it was in my sleeping bag,” he choked. “Their blood. I woke up in their blood.”
Robin turned away, pressing her fist to her mouth. Nancy made a small, wounded sound, pulling Mike into her arms and clinging to him like she might shatter otherwise.
The room tilted.
Your heartbeat skidded.
Your stomach surged violently.
“I—” you gasped, backing away, chest tightening. “I need—”
You didn’t finish the sentence.
You bolted.
You barely heard Eddie calling your name as you sprinted down the hallway, stumbling into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you. Your knees hit the tile hard as you braced yourself over the toilet. And then everything came up—liquor, grilled cheese, the sour sting of fear.
Your entire body shook.
The sound of your retching echoed horribly in the small room.
Tears blurred your vision, hot and relentless, as if your body was trying to purge the image burned into your mind.
A light knock came at the door.
Soft. Careful.
“Hey…” Eddie’s voice, low and shaky but trying to be steady. “It’s me. Are you—can I come in?”
You couldn’t answer. You retched again instead.
There was a moment of silence. Then the door cracked open gently—Eddie must’ve pushed slow enough to avoid the faulty latch clattering. He stepped in and shut it behind him.
“Jesus…” he breathed, kneeling beside you. He didn’t touch you at first—almost like he was afraid to break you—but then he rested a hand lightly between your shoulder blades. “It’s okay. Just—just breathe. I got you. You shouldn’t have seen that”
Another wave hit you, violent and sudden, and Eddie’s grip steadied you so you didn’t fall forward.
When the retching finally slowed to miserable dry heaves, he grabbed a few tissues from the counter and wiped your mouth carefully, his touch soft but trembling.
“They were kids Eddie, kids!” you cried between gags.
When you finally managed to sit back against the cold tile, gasping for air, the muffled chaos downstairs hit your ears like a second wave.
Shouts. Yelling. The sound of someone slamming against furniture.
You stumbled to your feet, supporting yourself against the sink, and cautiously opened the bathroom door. The living room was a scene of utter panic.
Steve and Jonathan were facing off, chests heaving, fists clenched. Steve’s eyes were wide with anger and disbelief, while Jonathan’s jaw was tight, his whole body radiating restrained fury.
“You think you can just waltz in here and show up like you own this place?!” Steve barked. His face was red, his hands trembling with rage. “You—YOU did this! Didn’t you? You brought this nightmare here!”
Jonathan froze, shock flickering across his face. “What the hell are you talking about, Harrington? I didn’t do anything!”
“You expect me to believe that?” Steve shouted, shoving Jonathan back. “Lucas and Dustin are dead, Jonathan! And you just stroll in like it’s nothing? You always have that damn look—like you know more than you’re telling us!”
Nancy’s face went pale. She moved toward the wall phone, fumbling with the receiver, voice shaking. “We… we need to call the cops.”
She lifted the handset, then froze. Her eyes widened. “The wire…” she whispered. She tugged at it, yanking the cord from the wall. It was cut—cleanly, deliberately.
“No signal,” she breathed, panic threading her voice. “We can’t call anyone.”
Steve’s face tightened, fists clenching. “Great. Just… perfect.” His eyes darted toward the front and back doors. “We can at least get out, right?”
You all rushed to the doors, hearts hammering. Panic surged. Both were jammed. No amount of yanking or pushing would budge them. The locks hadn’t been tampered with—they’d been blocked from the outside.
Eddie’s grin from earlier was gone. He pounded a fist against the front door. “Shit! You don’t think… they're still in the house!”
You swallow, before looking around at all of your friends. “Or… it’s one of us,” you breathe. Everyone turned, looking horrified in your direction.
Steve’s eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as he pointed a finger at Jonathan, shaking with barely-contained anger. “One of us? Don’t act innocent, Jonathan! You just show up here like nothing happened, and now—now Lucas and Dustin are dead! What, are you gonna tell me you had nothing to do with it?”
Jonathan stepped back, hands raised, voice low but firm. “Steve, I swear to God—I didn’t do this! You think I’d just stroll in here after something like that?”
Steve took a step closer, eyes wild, chest heaving. “You always have that calm, quiet thing about you. Always acting like you know more than anyone else. Well, newsflash—maybe you did! Maybe you were waiting to show up until it was convenient!”
Nancy grabbed Steve’s arm, her voice sharp but trembling. “Steve! Stop accusing him! We don’t know anything yet!”
Steve yanked his arm free, eyes flashing with rage. “Stop telling me what to do, Nancy! I’m not blind! I can see the way he walks in here, acting like a hero, and meanwhile—” He gestured wildly toward the boys’ room upstairs, “—look at what’s happened while he’s been gone!”
Eddie stepped forward, voice low but cutting, trying to anchor the group. “Steve, calm the hell down. Pointing fingers won’t bring anyone back. None of us knows who it is.”
Jonathan walked over to Eddie, angry and red. “Eddie, I am not the fucking killer,” he shouted, his chest heaving, eyes wide in disbelief.
Eddie looked down, placing a hand in his inside pocket. The room froze, all sound cut except for the shallow breaths of the group.
“I know,” he said softly, almost too calmly. His fingers tightened. Then, with a single deliberate click—BANG.
Jonathan collapsed to the floor, eyes wide in shock. A piercing scream erupted from Nancy, her hands flying to her mouth. Steve’s jaw dropped, a mix of rage and disbelief twisting his face.
Eddie swayed slightly, gun still trained on Steve, the dim living room light glinting off the metal. “Welcome to Act Three, Harrington,” he said, voice steady, almost theatrical.
Steve’s fists clenched, stepping forward despite the terror in his eyes. “You… you’re insane. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Robin stumbled back, trembling. “Eddie… you… What are you doing?!”
Mike froze in place, tears streaking down his face, gripping the edge of the couch as the reality hit him.
Eddie’s grin returned, small, sharp, terrifying. “It’s just the beginning,” he whispered, lowering the gun slightly but never removing his aim. “And don’t think it’s over yet. Not until the curtain falls.”
Robin stumbled back, trembling. “Eddie… you… what are you doing?!”
Eddie’s grin returned, small, sharp, terrifying. “Oh, Robin,” he murmured, almost fondly, “you really don’t understand your role yet.”
Before anyone could react, a deafening shot rang out. Robin’s scream cut through the room, sharp and horrified. She collapsed to the floor beside Jonathan, eyes wide, blood blossoming across her chest.
Nancy’s cries filled the room, raw and unending, as she clung to Jonathan’s lifeless body. The warm, chaotic living room from before had dissolved into horror, the flickering light casting monstrous shadows over blood-soaked carpet and terrified faces.
Steve’s eyes snapped, his jaw tightening. “I’m not letting this happen!” With a roar, he lunged at Eddie, shoving him backward and trying to wrestle the gun free.
Eddie staggered, laughing, but it was uneven, unhinged. “Ohhh, Harrington… that’s the spirit!”
The gun fired—a sharp, deafening crack—and Nancy screamed. She staggered backward, a hand pressed to her chest, blood blooming across her robe. “Ahhhh!”
Steve froze for just a heartbeat, horror washing over him. “Nancy!” He dove to her side, hands trembling as he assessed the wound. Nancy gasped, tears spilling freely, clutching at him. “It’s… it’s okay… I’m… I’m okay,” she whimpered, though her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper.
Eddie smirked, finger still twitching on the trigger, but Steve’s rage surged. With a desperate, forceful heave, he wrenched the gun from Eddie’s grasp, twisting it away and slamming Eddie against the wall. The metal clanged against the doorframe. Eddie let out a strangled curse, fury burning in his eyes, but he was unarmed.
Steve spun toward you and Mike, adrenaline propelling him. “Come on! Upstairs! Now!”
You and Mike didn’t hesitate. You grabbed each other’s hands as Steve pushed you toward the staircase. “Hurry, don’t look back!” he barked, dragging both of you up the steps, adrenaline screaming through every vein.
Behind you, you could hear Eddie’s curses, low and dangerous, echoing off the walls. The living room was chaos—Nancy’s cries, the metallic clatter of the gun hitting the floor, and Eddie’s deranged laughter mixing into a horrifying symphony.
Steve shoved the bathroom door open as you reached the landing. “Get in there, lock it!” he ordered, yanking you both inside. You slammed the door behind you, fumbling with the lock as Mike clutched your arm, shaking.
You sank against the door, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. “He… he’s insane,” you gasped, voice trembling.
Steve pressed himself against the door, breathing hard, forehead slick with sweat. “Yeah… but we’re alive, at least for now. And we’re not staying down there with him.”
Mike whimpered, burying his face in your shoulder. You wrapped an arm around him, trying to steady both your own fear and his. Outside, the sound of Eddie pounding on the front door, calling your names, grew louder.
Steve crouched beside you, voice low and determined. “We’re getting through this. I swear. No one else dies while I’m here. Not on my watch.”
Eddie’s pounding on the door grew relentless, the wood rattling under his fists. His voice—low, taunting, unhinged—slid through the cracks. “Come on! You can’t hide forever! I know you’re in there!”
Steve’s eyes darted to the doorknob, to the walls, to the terrified faces of you and Mike. His jaw tightened. He leaned closer, pressing himself against you, voice barely above a whisper, trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.
“I’ve always… always loved you,” he confessed, his forehead resting against yours, eyes fierce and desperate. “And I won’t let anything happen to you. Not while I’m here. Not ever.”
You froze for a heartbeat, the words hitting like a hammer—warm, raw, honest. You felt his hands tighten around you, pulling you close, shielding you from the chaos outside.
And then, in one motion so swift it blurred with adrenaline and shock, you drew a small knife from your jacket pocket into Steves back.
Steve’s eyes widened in disbelief as you pressed it against his back, just below the shoulder blades. “Y/N… what—”
You twisted the knife, and Steve gasped, stumbling forward, hands instinctively trying to grab yours—but it was too late. Pain and shock flooded his face, eyes locking with yours.
Mike screamed, clutching your arm, terror etched into every line of his small frame. “Y/N! No! Stop!”
Steve collapsed to the floor with a strangled cry, clutching at the wound, his mouth opening and closing like he had words but couldn’t form them. “Why… why… you?” he managed, voice ragged, disbelief and agony mixing into a single, haunting sound.
You stepped back from Steve, watching him crumple to the floor, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock. Mike’s small body pressed against yours, shaking, his sobs echoing in the small room.
For a moment, the world was silent—just your own ragged breathing and the distant, relentless pounding from Eddie outside. Then, almost casually, you reached for the lock on the door. With a twist and a soft click, it slid open.
Eddie’s grin widened before he even stepped inside, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. He strode in, slow and deliberate, soaking in the chaos you’d orchestrated upstairs.
“You made it easy,” Eddie said, voice smooth and low, like a predator savoring the kill. “I mean, really. Having all of you under one roof? I almost didn’t have to do anything.”
You glanced down at Steve, still gasping, half on the floor, half trying to push himself up. “It was too easy,” you murmured, voice calm, almost detached. “All I had to do was… nudge things along.”
Mike’s whimper turned into a shriek. “You… you’re not supposed to be doing this! You’re supposed to—” He broke off, tears blinding him.
Eddie stepped closer, looking at you with something that almost resembled admiration. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so… cooperative. But now? Now it’s perfect. All of them, right where we want them.”
You let your eyes meet his, a chilling smile tugging at your lips. “Exactly. It was too easy. Everyone thought the killer was one of the others… but we were always two steps ahead.”
The room seemed to shrink around you, Mike trembling between you, Steve’s groans punctuating the silence, and Eddie’s presence filling every shadow. The trap had closed, and the two of you had orchestrated it perfectly.
Hours earlier, the night was still young—or maybe it just felt that way, in the warped glow of anticipation. Eddie’s van rumbled down the quiet road, tires crunching on gravel, headlights slicing through the darkness like knives. You sat beside him in the passenger seat, knees brushing, heart thrumming with the pulse of what was to come.
“You ready for this?” Eddie asked, voice low, his hand brushing yours in a way that sent shivers up your spine. There was a grin in his tone, dark and sharp, like he could taste the chaos before it even happened.
You smirked, leaning close. “More than ready. Tonight… it’s going to be perfect.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, I still can’t get over it… your handwriting on the note we left for them. Seriously, ‘Y/N writes in cursive’—that’s cute, but also terrifying. You make even a threat look pretty.”
You laughed, leaning in, letting your forehead rest against his. “Pretty? That’s the idea. They won’t see it coming.”
“God… you’re going to make this fun,” he murmured, teeth flashing in the dim dashboard light. “I like that you even care about style while we’re… you know, planning murder.”
You leaned in again, brushing your lips against his ear, voice low and teasing. “It’s not just style. It’s intimidation. They’ll trust us… and never know it was you and me all along.”
The van idled at the edge of the driveway, shadows stretching long across the lawn. Outside, the quiet house waited, oblivious, as the two of you shared one last, heated kiss before stepping out. Hands entwined, hearts racing, the thrill of the night pulsed through your veins. You both knew—it had all been too easy.
Steve’s eyes widened, disbelief and pain twisting his face. “Y/N… why…?” His voice cracked, each word a mixture of betrayal and anguish.
You didn’t answer. Instead, you stepped back, watching him slump to the floor, struggling to catch his breath. Mike’s hands trembled as he reached for you. “Y/N… what are you doing?”
Eddie’s grin stretched wider, eyes glittering in the dim light. He moved closer, brushing a hand across your cheek. “See? Told you it’d be fun.”
Mike shook his head, panic overtaking him. “No… no! You can’t—”
You tilted your head, knife gleaming. “I saved him for last,” you said softly, voice almost playful. “Those sad, trusting eyes… I wanted to remember them before it was over.”
Eddie leaned in, pressing a brief, cruel kiss to your lips. “Perfection,” he murmured. “It really couldn’t have gone any better.”
The room reeked of terror, the silence after the chaos thick and suffocating. Steve’s shallow, ragged breaths were the only sound that reminded you he had ever been there, fighting for them all.
Mike’s scream echoed as he realised the betrayal, your calm detachment cutting deeper than any blade
The last echo of screams faded into an unbearable silence, broken only by the shallow gasps of Steve on the floor, taking his last breaths. Mike sat frozen, knife still trembling in your hand, eyes wide with disbelief and terror.
Eddie leaned casually against the wall, slipping his jacket on, his grin sharp and unrepentant. “Well,” he said, glancing at you, “that was easier than I thought.”
You wiped the blade clean on the carpet, your expression calm, almost serene. “All of them… gone. Just like we planned.”
Eddie clapped his hands together softly, almost like applause. “Come on, then. Let’s get out of this hellhole.”
You followed him to the front door. The night air hit your face as Eddie swung the door open. His van was waiting outside, lights off, engine idling, shadows stretching across the lawn.
“You think anyone will ever catch us?” Eddie asked, glancing at you, his grin wicked.
You shrugged, knife still in hand, eyes on the fading lights of the town. “Not a chance. We’re untouchable, baby,”
“Your so sexy with a knife in your hand, god I love you,” Eddie breathed. You leaned over, placing a kiss on his cheek.
The van disappeared into the darkness, carrying the two of you—and the night’s horrors—far, far away.
The road ahead was endless. And so was your freedom.
At Steve’s chaotic party, you and Eddie Munson circle each other like fire and gasoline, sharp insults, teasing glances, and a dangerous spark that refuses to die. Every interaction is a game of push and pull, and the tension between you is impossible to ignore.
WARNINGS: 18+, MDNI< its boutta get unholy up in here yall
WORDCOUNT: 5499
The music was loud, the kind of bass-heavy chaos that rattled your teeth and made Steve’s parties feel like their own small apocalypse. You were hovering near the kitchen, soda in hand, trying to avoid the sweaty crush of teenagers circling the living room when someone slid up beside you with a grin that could only belong to Eddie Munson.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Harrington,” he said, voice dripping with mock admiration. “Out here pretending you don’t want to be at your own brother's party?”
You arched a brow, taking a slow sip of your drink. “And you’re here pretending you don’t want to annoy me.”
He laughed low and long, like you’d just handed him the punchline of the century. “Touché. But let’s be honest—you do want to be here. And you secretly want to talk to me.”
“Secretly,” you echoed, voice flat but eyes narrowed. “Or you’re just full of shit.”
“Both,” he admitted instantly, tilting his head with that infuriating confidence of his. “I’m full of shit, and you love it.”
“Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, challenging him. “I loathe it. You are… how do I put this…utterly insufferable.”
He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying the verbal sparring. “Insufferable? Please. I’m charming. It’s a talent.”
You rolled your eyes, taking a deliberate, slow sip of your soda just to irritate him further. “If you’re charming, I must be blind. Or deaf. Definitely both.”
Eddie’s grin widened, and you immediately regretted the smile twitching at the corner of your mouth.
“I don’t,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction. You refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting that maybe, just maybe, he got under your skin in a way no one else could.
He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
You narrowed your eyes, giving him a pointed look. “And I bet you say that to every girl at these parties.”
“Every girl?” he echoed, mock offense in his tone. “Darling, you wound me. I save my best insults for special people.”
You blinked, heat crawling up your neck before you could stop it. “Cute. Very cute. Keep insulting me like that and I might start thinking you enjoy this.”
Eddie’s eyes lit up like you’d just dared him to do something reckless. He pushed off the counter, closing a fraction of the space between you with a swagger that made you want to roll your eyes and maybe shove him—hard.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, lowering his voice to something annoyingly smooth, “if I enjoyed this any more, Steve would throw me out of his own house.”
You scoffed. “Please. Steve would throw me out first.”
“Careful, Harrington,” he drawled. “Keep talking to me like that and someone might think you want me.”
You scoffed and shoved his shoulder just enough to rock him backward. “Relax, Munson. If I wanted you, you’d know.”
Eddie steadied himself, ringed hands raised in surrender, but his grin sharpened. “Is that a promise?”
“It’s a warning.”
“Ooh,” he breathed, stepping back toward you like you were gravity. “Even better.”
Someone yelled Eddie’s name from the living room—probably Gareth or Jeff or one of the other guys demanding he come defend his title in a very serious argument about Metallica—but Eddie didn’t move. Not yet.
He tipped his head, eyes dragging over your face with an annoyingly slow, annoyingly knowing sweep.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
“It never is,” you shot back.
Only then did he tear himself away, strutting off toward the noise—leaving you with your drink, a racing pulse, and the horrible realization that you were in trouble. Very big trouble.
—-
The music thumped from inside, but out here in the garden, it felt quieter, like the world had narrowed down to the grass under your feet and the dark sky above. You were swaying slightly, more from liquor than the wind, when you spotted him leaning against the railing, cigarette dangling between his fingers
“Eddie,” you called, voice sharp enough to cut through the buzz in your head. “Giving the party a break, or just trying to look like a tragic poet?”
He snorted, eyes glinting as he flicked ash onto the grass. “Tragic poet?” he slurred slightly, the alcohol loosening the usual edge of his voice. “Sweetheart, I like that. Want a cigarette?”
You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe. If you promise not to lick it first.”
“Hey,” he laughed, the sound low and rough, leaning closer so the smoke curled between you, “I don’t lick my smokes. That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. That’s different.”
“Good,” you shot back, stepping forward just enough to grab the cigarette, your fingers brushing his. Sparks—or maybe alcohol-fueled hormones—shot up your arm. “I like disgusting. Makes life more fun.”
He grinned, tipping the cigarette to his lips, eyes half-lidded. “You’re a nightmare. I like nightmares.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” you muttered, dragging a long inhale, holding it just to annoy him, “maybe someday you’ll believe it.”
Eddie leaned closer, too close, his grin mischievous and messy. “You’re drunk,” he said softly, voice teasing, “and meaner than usual. I like it.”
“Not drunk enough,” you shot back, voice low and rough, “or I’d set your hair on fire just to see you scream.”
He laughed, a low, rattling sound, tilting his head as if that idea excited him. “You’d get me hard before the fire, you know that, right?”
You snorted, bumping his shoulder. “Yeah, and I’d make sure you hated every second of it.”
He groaned dramatically, fumbling with the cigarette, still too close. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re a dick,” you said, smirking. “But somehow, I can’t stop looking at you.”
Eddie’s grin softened, just slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief and something warmer under the alcohol-fueled confidence. “Same,” he admitted, leaning back just enough to give you room, but not really. “Same, goddamn it.”
You snorted, taking a long drag and letting the smoke curl around you. “You’re lucky you’re drunk, Munson. Otherwise, I’d be kicking you into next week.”
He tilted his head, eyes dark, grin sharp. “And I’d like it. Maybe too much.”
“And you’re a dick,” you said, smirking as you flicked ash to the ground. “Annoying as hell, as usual.”
Eddie didn’t laugh this time. He went still—eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second before dragging back up to your eyes. His grin curved slow, lazy, dangerous.
“You know,” he said, voice low and rough, “for a total pain in the ass, I can’t stop looking at you tonight.”
Your stomach tightened, heat coiling low, but you forced a scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh please.”
He leaned in, just a fraction, enough that you could smell his cologne and cigarettes, enough that your pulse stuttered. “Don’t ‘oh please’ me. You look good tonight. Messy, drunk, irritating… and I like it.”
You covered it with another drag of your cigarette. “You’re lucky you’re drunk, Munson,” you said, exhaling smoke between you both, “otherwise, I’d be kicking you into next week.”
Eddie tilted his head, hair brushing his shoulders, grin gaining a wicked tilt. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “the way you look at me? You’re not kicking me anywhere.”
Your pulse jumped. You glared at him to hide it.
He stepped the slightest bit closer—close enough his breath warmed your cheek. “And if you did…” his voice dropped into something low and filthy, “I’d probably like it. A lot.”
The night felt suddenly too warm. He leaned back just a bit, muttering under his breath, half to himself, half to the universe, “Of course it has to be Steve’s sister…”
You froze, smirk tugging despite yourself. “Excuse me?”
Eddie’s eyes flicked up to yours, mischievous and slightly guilty, but that grin stayed sharp. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Eddie ran a hand through his hair, the cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers. “Seriously, you’re standing out here missing all the fun. You should go back in, you know… join the chaos.”
“I’m gonna head up to bed,” you said, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself, giving him one last sharp glance over your shoulder.
He frowned, muttering, “Bed? You’re abandoning the party already?” His grin faltered into something sharper, more deliberate. “C’mon, you’re making me feel like I should be punished for being fun.”
You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe you should.”
Eddie stepped a little closer, but you shook your head, flicking the cigarette away. “Anyway,” you said, voice softening just enough to make him catch it, “don’t get too comfortable with the party without me.”
You started up the stairs, pausing halfway to glance back at him. “Oh, and Eddie?”
“Yeah?” His grin was lazy, knowing, and entirely too confident.
“2nd floor,” you said, voice casual, like it was nothing. “Next to the bathroom on the left… in case you get bored of the party.”
His eyebrows shot up, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he watched you disappear down the hallway. “Next to the bathroom on the left,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head with that mix of frustration and excitement. “Of course it’s there…”
The party raged on below, oblivious, but upstairs, in that small, quiet hallway, the air felt suddenly charged. Eddie’s hand itched, as he dropped his cigarette on the floor, crushing it with his boot.
The music thumped from downstairs, but up here, the world had narrowed to the dim hallway, the faint smell of your perfume, and the heat that seemed to cling to him. Eddie ran a hand over his face, fingers tangled in his hair, trying to make sense of how someone could be so infuriating and magnetic at the same time.
He leaned against the wall, boots scraping softly against the wood floor, imagining what it would be like if he followed you up there. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them innocent. Every rational thought—the one telling him not to overstep, not to give Steve’s sister the wrong idea—was drowned out by a cocktail of alcohol, adrenaline, and desire.
“Next to the bathroom on the left…” He could feel that smirk still haunting him, teasing him with every step he took. He started up the stairs, boots thudding softly against the wood, each step calculated, purposeful, bringing him closer to you.
Halfway up, a shadow detached itself from the hall. Steve. His expression was casual enough, but Eddie could hear the curiosity in the drawl of his voice. “Hey—where’s Y/N?”
Eddie froze for just a second, weighing his options, then smirked and shrugged, turning on the charm. “Oh, uh… she said she wanted to crash early. You know, rest and all that. Party’s wild, gotta pace yourself.”
Steve raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but willing to let it go. “Alright, fair. Don’t do anything stupid, Munson.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie replied, voice smooth, eyes already darting toward the second-floor landing. Steve waved him off and went back downstairs, and Eddie exhaled slowly, letting the tension slip from his shoulders.
Once he was alone, the hallway felt different—quieter, charged, like the whole world had shrunk down to just him and the space between the stairs and your door. He paused for a fraction of a second, hand brushing the frame, savoring the thought of you just beyond it. He could hear faint creaks from inside, maybe the sound of you moving around, maybe not—it didn’t matter.
He leaned in slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips, whispering under his breath, “Let’s see how impossible you really are, Harrington.” Then, tapping lightly on the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him.
The room smelled faintly like you—your perfume, your shampoo, something familiar that made his chest tighten in an annoying, pleasant way. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying you. You were perched on the edge of your bed, hair a little mussed, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, a cigarette dangling lazily between your fingers.
“You actually came,” you said, voice sharp but teasing, eyes narrowing with the tiniest hint of a smile.
“Of course I did,” he said, stepping fully into the room, letting the door close behind him. “You didn’t think I’d let you sneak off to bed without saying hello, did you?”
You rolled your eyes, dragging on your cigarette and letting the smoke curl around you like a shield. “I said I was heading to bed. Didn’t say anything about company.”
“Right,” he said, tilting his head, grin spreading slowly. “Company that doesn’t have to follow the rules of Steve’s little party chaos. Company that can do… whatever it wants.”
You snorted, leaning back slightly on your hands. “Careful, Munson. You’re flirting dangerously close to the ‘I hate you’ line.”
He laughed, low and throaty, taking a step closer so the space between you felt electric. “Good,” he murmured. “I like it when you hate me. Makes the chase… fun.”
Your stomach fluttered despite yourself, and you shoved him lightly with just enough force to rock him back on his heels. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you love it,” he countered instantly, smirk sharp, eyes gleaming. “Admit it.”
You blinked at him, chest tightening in a way that was equal parts thrilling and infuriating. “Maybe,” you repeated, voice low, teasing, “if I felt like it.”
Eddie’s grin widened, slow and dangerous, and he took another step closer, closing the distance until the heat radiating off him brushed against your arm. “Mm,” he murmured, dragging out the sound, “you know… you’re really good at this—making me want things I shouldn’t want.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you shot back, scoffing, though your pulse betrayed your nerves.
“Oh, it’s a warning,” he said, voice dropping low, rough, laced with that messy confidence you couldn’t ignore. He tilted his head, eyes dragging over your face with that maddening, calculating look. “The way you look at me, the way you’re just… standing there like you own my brain right now… it’s—fuck it—driving me insane.”
Your breath hitched, and you shoved him again, harder this time, though not enough to really move him. “You’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice sharp, to hide the heat coiling low in your stomach.
“And you,” he countered, voice dropping even lower, “you’re making me think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about… right here, right now… and it’s making me fucking hard.”
Your eyes went wide for a split second, and he leaned in just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. “Eddie—”
“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, before closing the gap completely. His lips were on yours, claiming and bold, and the world shrank down to the taste of him, the rough scrape of stubble against your cheek, and the overwhelming electricity sparking between you.
You froze for a moment, stunned, before your body betrayed you, pressing forward, letting the kiss deepen. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place, and for all the teasing, the challenges, and the sharp words between you, this—this was unguarded, messy, and undeniably real.
His hands moved to your waist as he deepened the kiss.
“This,” you catch your breath. “This is a bad idea, Steve will kill you, he’ll kill me,”
Eddie chuckled low against your lips, the vibration sending heat straight through your chest. “Steve doesn’t need to know,” he murmured, voice rough, teasing, and dangerously close. He tilted his head, pressing just a little harder, fingers digging into your waist as if to anchor himself to you.
You tried to pull back slightly, fumbling for air, but he didn’t let you. “Bad idea, yeah?” he muttered, lips brushing against yours again in a soft, taunting graze. “Everything worth doing is a bad idea sometimes, sweetheart.”
You groaned, exhaling sharply, pressing into him despite your better judgment. “Eddie… we shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t what?” he teased, voice low, dangerous, brushing your ear as he nuzzled the side of your neck. “Tell me you don’t like this, and I’ll call bullshit on the spot.”
You froze, heart hammering, caught between the urge to shove him away and the undeniable pull of wanting him closer. “I—”
“Yeah,” he interrupted, grinning against your skin, “that’s what I thought.” His hands tightened at your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, harder this time, leaving no room for argument or hesitation. The world outside the room, Steve’s party, the music, the chaos,faded completely, leaving only you and him, tangled up in something reckless.
Eddie kissed you like he’d been waiting years for an excuse, mouth hot and greedy against yours, hands sliding from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him. The second your bodies collided, he exhaled something ragged, almost relieved, like finally getting his hands on you had knocked the air out of him.
You grabbed the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric, dragging him closer until there was no space left at all. His rings were cold against your skin as he cupped your jaw and tilted your head back, deepening the kiss with an urgency that made your knees go weak.
He broke away for only a second, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat, breath hot as he muttered against your skin, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
Your fingers slid under the hem of his shirt without thinking, feeling warm skin and the tense flex of muscle as he sucked in a sharp breath. “I shouldn’t be doing anything to you,” you managed, voice shaky. “This is—this is stupid. Steve will—”
Eddie cut you off with a laugh against your neck, low and breathless. “Steve’s not here,” he said, mouthing at your pulse. “And even if he was… you think I’d stop?”
You dragged him back up by his collar and kissed him again, harder this time. He groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing dangerously close to places that made your breath catch. Every pass of his hands felt deliberate, hungry, like he was mapping you.
He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed. The shift in balance made you grab onto his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to make him shudder.
“Careful,” he murmured, lips brushing yours, “you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna forget how to be a gentleman.”
“You were never a gentleman,” you shot back, but your voice was barely a whisper.
“Exactly,” he breathed, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper, like he wanted to memorize the taste of you. His hands settled at your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft dips there as he eased you down onto the mattress.
His hands crawled under your shirt and around to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a simple click. You gave him a somewhat look of respect, which he returned with a casual shrug before pushing your shirt up as he laid you down on the bed.
Eddie’s lips kissed up your stomach before landing at each nipple, giving them a light tug with his teeth, causing a sigh out of your mouth.
You lay there, still catching your breath, Eddie's weight a comforting press against you as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin. The afterglow hummed through your veins, but the distant thump of music from downstairs reminded you of the party raging on without you two. Eddie's lips curved into a smirk against your neck, his cock twitching inside you as if already stirring for more.
A sudden knock echoed through the door, sharp and insistent. Your heart leaped into your throat. "Y/N? You up here?" Steve's voice called out, muffled but clear. Panic flickered in your eyes, but Eddie just chuckled low, his hand clamping over your mouth briefly to silence any gasp.
"Shh," he whispered, eyes gleaming with wicked intent. He pulled out slowly, the slick slide making you bite your lip to stifle a whine. Before you could protest, he rolled off the bed, grabbing the duvet and comforter in a fluid motion. "Act natural, baby. Tell him you're fine."
You scrambled to sit up, yanking the sheet up to cover your chest as another knock came. Eddie dove under the covers at the foot of the bed, his hands immediately gripping your ankles and spreading your legs apart. The fabric tented slightly as he positioned himself between your thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.
"Yeah, Steve? What's up?" you called out, voice steadier than you felt. Your pulse raced, a thrill of danger mixing with the lingering ache between your legs.
"Have you seen my lighter? The one that says 'I heart Hooters'? I swear I had it downstairs, but it's gone. You didn't grab it or anything, did you?" Steve sounded annoyed, shifting his weight outside the door.
Under the duvet, Eddie's tongue flicked out, tracing a bold line up your inner thigh. You clenched your fists in the sheets, fighting to keep your expression neutral. "N-no, I haven't seen it," you managed, hips twitching involuntarily as his mouth reached your core. He didn't hesitate—his lips sealed over your pussy, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue delving into your folds to lap at the mix of your arousal and his cum still leaking from you.
"You sure? I need it for this joint everyone's passing around." Steve knocked again, lighter this time, like he was about to turn the knob.
Eddie's hands dug into your thighs, holding you open as he thrust his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it in slow, deliberate strokes. The wet sounds were barely muffled by the comforter, and you pressed your thighs together around his head, both to hide him and to chase the building pressure. "I'm sure," you replied, voice hitching slightly. "Maybe check the kitchen? Or ask someone else?"
He hummed against your clit, the vibration shooting straight through you, and you had to bite down on your knuckle to suppress a moan. His tongue circled the swollen nub, flicking relentlessly while one hand slid up to pinch your ass, pulling you closer to his face. He was devouring you, dominant even in secrecy, forcing your body to respond while you played innocent above.
"Alright, fine. But if you find it, holler. Party's dying without it." Steve's footsteps retreated down the hall, fading into the bass-heavy music below.
The second he was gone, Eddie growled against your skin, the sound possessive and hungry. He sucked your clit into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch off the bed. His fingers joined in, two plunging into your soaked entrance, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Good girl," he murmured, voice vibrating through you. "Keeping secrets for me. Now cum on my tongue before he comes back."
You shattered quietly, body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you, pussy clenching around his fingers while he licked every drop, unrelenting until you were spent and shaking. He emerged from under the covers, lips glistening, eyes dark with promise. "Told you this isn't over," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up to claim your mouth in a deep, tasting kiss.
—-
For the next few weeks, it felt like that night had rewired something between you—something dangerous, addictive, and impossible to undo. Eddie acted normal in public. You acted normal in public. But underneath every shared glance, every insult, every shove was the echo of his mouth on your skin and your legs locked around his waist. The two of you became very, very good at hiding it.
It started small.
After Hellfire, Eddie would offer you a ride home like it meant nothing. The moment the van doors shut, he’d grab the front of your shirt and drag you across the bench seat, pulling you into his lap. He kissed you like he’d been starving for days, hands everywhere, breath hot, windows fogging so fast you’d swear the air inside the van had turned molten. Sometimes the seatbelt would dig into your hip. Sometimes his rings would press into your thighs as he held you down. And every time, he’d murmur in your ear to be quiet or he’d make you louder.
The woods were worse. One night you slipped away from a bonfire with the excuse of “getting more beer,” and you barely made it ten steps before Eddie had you against a tree, messy and greedy. His rings were cold on your thighs, bark biting into your back, his hair tangled in your fingers as you tried to keep your noises swallowed.
You returned flushed, breathless, leaves in your hair, and Steve watched you the rest of the night with a suspicion that made your skin burn.
Then there was the trailer. With Wayne working double shifts, the moment the door clicked shut Eddie would pin you to the nearest surface—wall, couch, kitchen counter—and kiss you until your knees gave out. You’d pretend you’d stopped by to “drop something off,” but you never made it past the living room. Half the time you walked out with your shirt buttoned crooked and Eddie’s belt still undone.
The Harrington house was riskier. Much riskier. Which made it your favorite.
Sometimes, when the house was quiet and Steve had gone to bed, Eddie climbed up the porch railing and slipped through your second-story window like a man who’d done it a hundred times. He always came in a little breathless from the thrill, hair mussed from the wind. He’d cover your mouth with his hand as he kissed you, whispering against your lips to be quiet, sweetheart, before pushing you back onto the mattress with the softest, filthiest kind of urgency.
Other times were even worse.
Ten minutes before Steve came home from work, he’d have you in the laundry room, your back against the dryer, his hands gripping your jaw while the other fumbled with your waistband. You’d hear the garage door start to open, and the two of you would scramble into half-presentable shape, breathless and trembling, pretending nothing happened.
Or the upstairs bathroom—where you told Steve you were “fixing your eyeliner” and Eddie slipped in behind you, locking the door with a quiet click. He’d lift you onto the counter and kiss you like he dared the entire world to catch you, his fingers smearing your lip gloss, his breath warm against your throat as he murmured what he’d do if you weren’t both pressed for time.
It should’ve felt wrong. It should’ve been terrifying. Sometimes it was. But mostly, it was intoxicating—every stolen moment, every whispered insult, every time his fingers brushed yours under the table as if by accident, every time he muttered that you were impossible right before kissing you breathless.
You both claimed it was casual. Claimed it was just fun. Claimed no one would ever find out.
But sometimes Eddie looked at you in a way that made your stomach flip—like he remembered every sound you made that night, like he wanted to hear them all again.
And that look made one thing painfully clear:
Whatever this was, it wasn’t going away.
And it was only getting harder—much harder—to hide.
—--
You were already breathless, fingers gripping at his shoulders, the rhythm between you steady, familiar, addictive. Eddie hovered over you, curls falling into his face, breath warm against your cheek as he moved with you—slow, deep, like he wanted to feel every single second of it.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough, “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”
You let out a breathy laugh, pulling him closer with your legs around his waist, as he kept drilling his hips into you. “You say that every time.”
“That’s because it’s true.” His forehead dropped to yours, his smile crooked, eyes half-lidded and blown. “You—you have no idea what you do to me. None.”
You were about to tease him for being dramatic when you shifted your hips just a little too sharply, and the motion broke the rhythm—one of those clumsy, breathless slips that happened sometimes when you were too lost in each other to care.
Eddie froze.
Not because of the pause, but because in the space it created—one beat, one breath—something spilled out of him he didn’t plan.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his cock twitching inside you, voice cracking slightly, “I—I love you.”
The room went still.
Your fingers tightened on his arms. His eyes widened like he’d heard himself too late.
“Wait—no, I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he stammered, panic flickering across his face. “Not—not right now, not during—shit—”
You stared up at him, heart pounding for an entirely different reason.
“Eddie,” you breathed.
He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw flexing. “Just—pretend I didn’t say anything, okay? It slipped, that’s all, it’s—fuck, I didn’t want to mess this up. Not tonight.”
You were lost in him, breath ragged, heart hammering, fingers clutching at his shoulders when a sudden metallic scrape made both of you freeze.
"Hey, Munson, what you doing parked in front of my yard?"
Steve.
The van door swung open, and Steve’s eyes narrowed instantly, dark and furious. “What the hell—what are you two doing?!” he barked, stepping fully inside, voice rising over the music from the street.
Eddie’s eyes went wide, panic overtaking him. “Steve! No—wait, it’s not what it looks like!” he stammered, fumbling to cover you, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to shield you.
You scrambled, pulling the blanket and your jacket around yourself, cheeks burning. “Yeah! Totally innocent, Steve! We weren’t—”
Steve’s glare cut right through you both, sharp and accusatory. “I don’t want excuses, Munson. I… fuck I can’t believe you, my sister ?”
He swallowed hard, anger thick in his throat, then shook his head, eyes narrowing as if he were trying to process something obvious. “…But… honestly? This—this is kind of obvious. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, the way you act. I knew it. I should’ve known months ago.”
Eddie froze completely, his face a mixture of guilt and relief, while you clutched the blanket closer, heart hammering, cheeks flushed for entirely different reasons.
Steve let out a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re both idiots,” he muttered, anger still simmering, but now tempered with a resigned sort of acknowledgment. “Just… be smart about it.
The room hung in tense silence for a heartbeat before Steve stormed off, slamming the door, sleaving you and Eddie staring at each other, the air thick with heat, laughter, and something more dangerous than either of you had intended.
Eddie exhaled shakily, voice low and rough as he leaned in, brushing a stray curl from your face. “Well… that went… okay?”
You smirked, still breathless, still flushed, and shook your head. “Yeah, ‘okay.’ That’s one way to put it.”
Eddie coughs before turning to you. “ So what I said about, you know, how I said I love…”
Eddie leaned over you, chest pressed to yours, curls falling into his eyes, trying way too hard to look casual. He grinned crookedly, voice low and teasing, “So… that, uh… thing I said? Totally slipped. Didn’t happen. Forget it, okay?”
You raised an eyebrow, fingers tangling in his hair. “Oh really? Just slipped, huh?”
“Yeah!” he said, leaning back just enough to try and sound nonchalant. “Nothing. Forget it. Keep… keep doing whatever you were doing. Totally fine.” His attempt at casual was laughably transparent—heat still radiated off him, and the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
You smirked, pressing closer, lips brushing against his in a teasing, deliberate kiss. “Hmm… sure you want me to forget it?” you murmured against his mouth.
Eddie froze, eyes wide for a heartbeat, then groaned, leaning into the kiss, trying—and failing—to keep up the act. His hands found your waist, gripping, holding you close. “I… I didn’t mean it like that! I—shit, I wasn’t trying to—”
You cut him off, tilting your head and deepening the kiss, letting him taste your control for once. He let out a low, breathy laugh against your lips, curling around you anyway, surrendering just a little. “Fine,” he muttered, voice rough, “maybe I meant it. Just… don’t make it weird, okay?”
You smiled against his mouth, trailing your hands over his shoulders and down his back. “Weird’s overrated,” you whispered.
Eddie groaned, resting his forehead against yours, still trying to play it off, still trying to act like nothing had changed—but you could feel it, the way he kept leaning into you, the way his grip tightened as if letting go wasn’t an option. “Yeah… yeah, okay,” he admitted finally, voice low, half teasing, half raw. “Weird’s… fine. Just… don’t tell anyone I said anything, alright?”
You kissed him again, smirk tugging at your lips. “Mmm… I think I can keep that secret.”
At Steve’s chaotic party, you and Eddie Munson circle each other like fire and gasoline, sharp insults, teasing glances, and a dangerous spark that refuses to die. Every interaction is a game of push and pull, and the tension between you is impossible to ignore.
WARNINGS: 18+, MDNI< its boutta get unholy up in here yall
WORDCOUNT: 5499
The music was loud, the kind of bass-heavy chaos that rattled your teeth and made Steve’s parties feel like their own small apocalypse. You were hovering near the kitchen, soda in hand, trying to avoid the sweaty crush of teenagers circling the living room when someone slid up beside you with a grin that could only belong to Eddie Munson.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Harrington,” he said, voice dripping with mock admiration. “Out here pretending you don’t want to be at your own brother's party?”
You arched a brow, taking a slow sip of your drink. “And you’re here pretending you don’t want to annoy me.”
He laughed low and long, like you’d just handed him the punchline of the century. “Touché. But let’s be honest—you do want to be here. And you secretly want to talk to me.”
“Secretly,” you echoed, voice flat but eyes narrowed. “Or you’re just full of shit.”
“Both,” he admitted instantly, tilting his head with that infuriating confidence of his. “I’m full of shit, and you love it.”
“Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, challenging him. “I loathe it. You are… how do I put this…utterly insufferable.”
He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying the verbal sparring. “Insufferable? Please. I’m charming. It’s a talent.”
You rolled your eyes, taking a deliberate, slow sip of your soda just to irritate him further. “If you’re charming, I must be blind. Or deaf. Definitely both.”
Eddie’s grin widened, and you immediately regretted the smile twitching at the corner of your mouth.
“I don’t,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction. You refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting that maybe, just maybe, he got under your skin in a way no one else could.
He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
You narrowed your eyes, giving him a pointed look. “And I bet you say that to every girl at these parties.”
“Every girl?” he echoed, mock offense in his tone. “Darling, you wound me. I save my best insults for special people.”
You blinked, heat crawling up your neck before you could stop it. “Cute. Very cute. Keep insulting me like that and I might start thinking you enjoy this.”
Eddie’s eyes lit up like you’d just dared him to do something reckless. He pushed off the counter, closing a fraction of the space between you with a swagger that made you want to roll your eyes and maybe shove him—hard.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, lowering his voice to something annoyingly smooth, “if I enjoyed this any more, Steve would throw me out of his own house.”
You scoffed. “Please. Steve would throw me out first.”
“Careful, Harrington,” he drawled. “Keep talking to me like that and someone might think you want me.”
You scoffed and shoved his shoulder just enough to rock him backward. “Relax, Munson. If I wanted you, you’d know.”
Eddie steadied himself, ringed hands raised in surrender, but his grin sharpened. “Is that a promise?”
“It’s a warning.”
“Ooh,” he breathed, stepping back toward you like you were gravity. “Even better.”
Someone yelled Eddie’s name from the living room—probably Gareth or Jeff or one of the other guys demanding he come defend his title in a very serious argument about Metallica—but Eddie didn’t move. Not yet.
He tipped his head, eyes dragging over your face with an annoyingly slow, annoyingly knowing sweep.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
“It never is,” you shot back.
Only then did he tear himself away, strutting off toward the noise—leaving you with your drink, a racing pulse, and the horrible realization that you were in trouble. Very big trouble.
—-
The music thumped from inside, but out here in the garden, it felt quieter, like the world had narrowed down to the grass under your feet and the dark sky above. You were swaying slightly, more from liquor than the wind, when you spotted him leaning against the railing, cigarette dangling between his fingers
“Eddie,” you called, voice sharp enough to cut through the buzz in your head. “Giving the party a break, or just trying to look like a tragic poet?”
He snorted, eyes glinting as he flicked ash onto the grass. “Tragic poet?” he slurred slightly, the alcohol loosening the usual edge of his voice. “Sweetheart, I like that. Want a cigarette?”
You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe. If you promise not to lick it first.”
“Hey,” he laughed, the sound low and rough, leaning closer so the smoke curled between you, “I don’t lick my smokes. That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. That’s different.”
“Good,” you shot back, stepping forward just enough to grab the cigarette, your fingers brushing his. Sparks—or maybe alcohol-fueled hormones—shot up your arm. “I like disgusting. Makes life more fun.”
He grinned, tipping the cigarette to his lips, eyes half-lidded. “You’re a nightmare. I like nightmares.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” you muttered, dragging a long inhale, holding it just to annoy him, “maybe someday you’ll believe it.”
Eddie leaned closer, too close, his grin mischievous and messy. “You’re drunk,” he said softly, voice teasing, “and meaner than usual. I like it.”
“Not drunk enough,” you shot back, voice low and rough, “or I’d set your hair on fire just to see you scream.”
He laughed, a low, rattling sound, tilting his head as if that idea excited him. “You’d get me hard before the fire, you know that, right?”
You snorted, bumping his shoulder. “Yeah, and I’d make sure you hated every second of it.”
He groaned dramatically, fumbling with the cigarette, still too close. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re a dick,” you said, smirking. “But somehow, I can’t stop looking at you.”
Eddie’s grin softened, just slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief and something warmer under the alcohol-fueled confidence. “Same,” he admitted, leaning back just enough to give you room, but not really. “Same, goddamn it.”
You snorted, taking a long drag and letting the smoke curl around you. “You’re lucky you’re drunk, Munson. Otherwise, I’d be kicking you into next week.”
He tilted his head, eyes dark, grin sharp. “And I’d like it. Maybe too much.”
“And you’re a dick,” you said, smirking as you flicked ash to the ground. “Annoying as hell, as usual.”
Eddie didn’t laugh this time. He went still—eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second before dragging back up to your eyes. His grin curved slow, lazy, dangerous.
“You know,” he said, voice low and rough, “for a total pain in the ass, I can’t stop looking at you tonight.”
Your stomach tightened, heat coiling low, but you forced a scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh please.”
He leaned in, just a fraction, enough that you could smell his cologne and cigarettes, enough that your pulse stuttered. “Don’t ‘oh please’ me. You look good tonight. Messy, drunk, irritating… and I like it.”
You covered it with another drag of your cigarette. “You’re lucky you’re drunk, Munson,” you said, exhaling smoke between you both, “otherwise, I’d be kicking you into next week.”
Eddie tilted his head, hair brushing his shoulders, grin gaining a wicked tilt. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “the way you look at me? You’re not kicking me anywhere.”
Your pulse jumped. You glared at him to hide it.
He stepped the slightest bit closer—close enough his breath warmed your cheek. “And if you did…” his voice dropped into something low and filthy, “I’d probably like it. A lot.”
The night felt suddenly too warm. He leaned back just a bit, muttering under his breath, half to himself, half to the universe, “Of course it has to be Steve’s sister…”
You froze, smirk tugging despite yourself. “Excuse me?”
Eddie’s eyes flicked up to yours, mischievous and slightly guilty, but that grin stayed sharp. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Eddie ran a hand through his hair, the cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers. “Seriously, you’re standing out here missing all the fun. You should go back in, you know… join the chaos.”
“I’m gonna head up to bed,” you said, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself, giving him one last sharp glance over your shoulder.
He frowned, muttering, “Bed? You’re abandoning the party already?” His grin faltered into something sharper, more deliberate. “C’mon, you’re making me feel like I should be punished for being fun.”
You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe you should.”
Eddie stepped a little closer, but you shook your head, flicking the cigarette away. “Anyway,” you said, voice softening just enough to make him catch it, “don’t get too comfortable with the party without me.”
You started up the stairs, pausing halfway to glance back at him. “Oh, and Eddie?”
“Yeah?” His grin was lazy, knowing, and entirely too confident.
“2nd floor,” you said, voice casual, like it was nothing. “Next to the bathroom on the left… in case you get bored of the party.”
His eyebrows shot up, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he watched you disappear down the hallway. “Next to the bathroom on the left,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head with that mix of frustration and excitement. “Of course it’s there…”
The party raged on below, oblivious, but upstairs, in that small, quiet hallway, the air felt suddenly charged. Eddie’s hand itched, as he dropped his cigarette on the floor, crushing it with his boot.
The music thumped from downstairs, but up here, the world had narrowed to the dim hallway, the faint smell of your perfume, and the heat that seemed to cling to him. Eddie ran a hand over his face, fingers tangled in his hair, trying to make sense of how someone could be so infuriating and magnetic at the same time.
He leaned against the wall, boots scraping softly against the wood floor, imagining what it would be like if he followed you up there. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them innocent. Every rational thought—the one telling him not to overstep, not to give Steve’s sister the wrong idea—was drowned out by a cocktail of alcohol, adrenaline, and desire.
“Next to the bathroom on the left…” He could feel that smirk still haunting him, teasing him with every step he took. He started up the stairs, boots thudding softly against the wood, each step calculated, purposeful, bringing him closer to you.
Halfway up, a shadow detached itself from the hall. Steve. His expression was casual enough, but Eddie could hear the curiosity in the drawl of his voice. “Hey—where’s Y/N?”
Eddie froze for just a second, weighing his options, then smirked and shrugged, turning on the charm. “Oh, uh… she said she wanted to crash early. You know, rest and all that. Party’s wild, gotta pace yourself.”
Steve raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but willing to let it go. “Alright, fair. Don’t do anything stupid, Munson.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie replied, voice smooth, eyes already darting toward the second-floor landing. Steve waved him off and went back downstairs, and Eddie exhaled slowly, letting the tension slip from his shoulders.
Once he was alone, the hallway felt different—quieter, charged, like the whole world had shrunk down to just him and the space between the stairs and your door. He paused for a fraction of a second, hand brushing the frame, savoring the thought of you just beyond it. He could hear faint creaks from inside, maybe the sound of you moving around, maybe not—it didn’t matter.
He leaned in slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips, whispering under his breath, “Let’s see how impossible you really are, Harrington.” Then, tapping lightly on the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him.
The room smelled faintly like you—your perfume, your shampoo, something familiar that made his chest tighten in an annoying, pleasant way. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying you. You were perched on the edge of your bed, hair a little mussed, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, a cigarette dangling lazily between your fingers.
“You actually came,” you said, voice sharp but teasing, eyes narrowing with the tiniest hint of a smile.
“Of course I did,” he said, stepping fully into the room, letting the door close behind him. “You didn’t think I’d let you sneak off to bed without saying hello, did you?”
You rolled your eyes, dragging on your cigarette and letting the smoke curl around you like a shield. “I said I was heading to bed. Didn’t say anything about company.”
“Right,” he said, tilting his head, grin spreading slowly. “Company that doesn’t have to follow the rules of Steve’s little party chaos. Company that can do… whatever it wants.”
You snorted, leaning back slightly on your hands. “Careful, Munson. You’re flirting dangerously close to the ‘I hate you’ line.”
He laughed, low and throaty, taking a step closer so the space between you felt electric. “Good,” he murmured. “I like it when you hate me. Makes the chase… fun.”
Your stomach fluttered despite yourself, and you shoved him lightly with just enough force to rock him back on his heels. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you love it,” he countered instantly, smirk sharp, eyes gleaming. “Admit it.”
You blinked at him, chest tightening in a way that was equal parts thrilling and infuriating. “Maybe,” you repeated, voice low, teasing, “if I felt like it.”
Eddie’s grin widened, slow and dangerous, and he took another step closer, closing the distance until the heat radiating off him brushed against your arm. “Mm,” he murmured, dragging out the sound, “you know… you’re really good at this—making me want things I shouldn’t want.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you shot back, scoffing, though your pulse betrayed your nerves.
“Oh, it’s a warning,” he said, voice dropping low, rough, laced with that messy confidence you couldn’t ignore. He tilted his head, eyes dragging over your face with that maddening, calculating look. “The way you look at me, the way you’re just… standing there like you own my brain right now… it’s—fuck it—driving me insane.”
Your breath hitched, and you shoved him again, harder this time, though not enough to really move him. “You’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice sharp, to hide the heat coiling low in your stomach.
“And you,” he countered, voice dropping even lower, “you’re making me think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about… right here, right now… and it’s making me fucking hard.”
Your eyes went wide for a split second, and he leaned in just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. “Eddie—”
“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, before closing the gap completely. His lips were on yours, claiming and bold, and the world shrank down to the taste of him, the rough scrape of stubble against your cheek, and the overwhelming electricity sparking between you.
You froze for a moment, stunned, before your body betrayed you, pressing forward, letting the kiss deepen. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place, and for all the teasing, the challenges, and the sharp words between you, this—this was unguarded, messy, and undeniably real.
His hands moved to your waist as he deepened the kiss.
“This,” you catch your breath. “This is a bad idea, Steve will kill you, he’ll kill me,”
Eddie chuckled low against your lips, the vibration sending heat straight through your chest. “Steve doesn’t need to know,” he murmured, voice rough, teasing, and dangerously close. He tilted his head, pressing just a little harder, fingers digging into your waist as if to anchor himself to you.
You tried to pull back slightly, fumbling for air, but he didn’t let you. “Bad idea, yeah?” he muttered, lips brushing against yours again in a soft, taunting graze. “Everything worth doing is a bad idea sometimes, sweetheart.”
You groaned, exhaling sharply, pressing into him despite your better judgment. “Eddie… we shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t what?” he teased, voice low, dangerous, brushing your ear as he nuzzled the side of your neck. “Tell me you don’t like this, and I’ll call bullshit on the spot.”
You froze, heart hammering, caught between the urge to shove him away and the undeniable pull of wanting him closer. “I—”
“Yeah,” he interrupted, grinning against your skin, “that’s what I thought.” His hands tightened at your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, harder this time, leaving no room for argument or hesitation. The world outside the room, Steve’s party, the music, the chaos,faded completely, leaving only you and him, tangled up in something reckless.
Eddie kissed you like he’d been waiting years for an excuse, mouth hot and greedy against yours, hands sliding from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him. The second your bodies collided, he exhaled something ragged, almost relieved, like finally getting his hands on you had knocked the air out of him.
You grabbed the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric, dragging him closer until there was no space left at all. His rings were cold against your skin as he cupped your jaw and tilted your head back, deepening the kiss with an urgency that made your knees go weak.
He broke away for only a second, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat, breath hot as he muttered against your skin, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
Your fingers slid under the hem of his shirt without thinking, feeling warm skin and the tense flex of muscle as he sucked in a sharp breath. “I shouldn’t be doing anything to you,” you managed, voice shaky. “This is—this is stupid. Steve will—”
Eddie cut you off with a laugh against your neck, low and breathless. “Steve’s not here,” he said, mouthing at your pulse. “And even if he was… you think I’d stop?”
You dragged him back up by his collar and kissed him again, harder this time. He groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing dangerously close to places that made your breath catch. Every pass of his hands felt deliberate, hungry, like he was mapping you.
He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed. The shift in balance made you grab onto his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to make him shudder.
“Careful,” he murmured, lips brushing yours, “you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna forget how to be a gentleman.”
“You were never a gentleman,” you shot back, but your voice was barely a whisper.
“Exactly,” he breathed, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper, like he wanted to memorize the taste of you. His hands settled at your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft dips there as he eased you down onto the mattress.
His hands crawled under your shirt and around to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a simple click. You gave him a somewhat look of respect, which he returned with a casual shrug before pushing your shirt up as he laid you down on the bed.
Eddie’s lips kissed up your stomach before landing at each nipple, giving them a light tug with his teeth, causing a sigh out of your mouth.
You lay there, still catching your breath, Eddie's weight a comforting press against you as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin. The afterglow hummed through your veins, but the distant thump of music from downstairs reminded you of the party raging on without you two. Eddie's lips curved into a smirk against your neck, his cock twitching inside you as if already stirring for more.
A sudden knock echoed through the door, sharp and insistent. Your heart leaped into your throat. "Y/N? You up here?" Steve's voice called out, muffled but clear. Panic flickered in your eyes, but Eddie just chuckled low, his hand clamping over your mouth briefly to silence any gasp.
"Shh," he whispered, eyes gleaming with wicked intent. He pulled out slowly, the slick slide making you bite your lip to stifle a whine. Before you could protest, he rolled off the bed, grabbing the duvet and comforter in a fluid motion. "Act natural, baby. Tell him you're fine."
You scrambled to sit up, yanking the sheet up to cover your chest as another knock came. Eddie dove under the covers at the foot of the bed, his hands immediately gripping your ankles and spreading your legs apart. The fabric tented slightly as he positioned himself between your thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.
"Yeah, Steve? What's up?" you called out, voice steadier than you felt. Your pulse raced, a thrill of danger mixing with the lingering ache between your legs.
"Have you seen my lighter? The one that says 'I heart Hooters'? I swear I had it downstairs, but it's gone. You didn't grab it or anything, did you?" Steve sounded annoyed, shifting his weight outside the door.
Under the duvet, Eddie's tongue flicked out, tracing a bold line up your inner thigh. You clenched your fists in the sheets, fighting to keep your expression neutral. "N-no, I haven't seen it," you managed, hips twitching involuntarily as his mouth reached your core. He didn't hesitate—his lips sealed over your pussy, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue delving into your folds to lap at the mix of your arousal and his cum still leaking from you.
"You sure? I need it for this joint everyone's passing around." Steve knocked again, lighter this time, like he was about to turn the knob.
Eddie's hands dug into your thighs, holding you open as he thrust his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it in slow, deliberate strokes. The wet sounds were barely muffled by the comforter, and you pressed your thighs together around his head, both to hide him and to chase the building pressure. "I'm sure," you replied, voice hitching slightly. "Maybe check the kitchen? Or ask someone else?"
He hummed against your clit, the vibration shooting straight through you, and you had to bite down on your knuckle to suppress a moan. His tongue circled the swollen nub, flicking relentlessly while one hand slid up to pinch your ass, pulling you closer to his face. He was devouring you, dominant even in secrecy, forcing your body to respond while you played innocent above.
"Alright, fine. But if you find it, holler. Party's dying without it." Steve's footsteps retreated down the hall, fading into the bass-heavy music below.
The second he was gone, Eddie growled against your skin, the sound possessive and hungry. He sucked your clit into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch off the bed. His fingers joined in, two plunging into your soaked entrance, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Good girl," he murmured, voice vibrating through you. "Keeping secrets for me. Now cum on my tongue before he comes back."
You shattered quietly, body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you, pussy clenching around his fingers while he licked every drop, unrelenting until you were spent and shaking. He emerged from under the covers, lips glistening, eyes dark with promise. "Told you this isn't over," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up to claim your mouth in a deep, tasting kiss.
—-
For the next few weeks, it felt like that night had rewired something between you—something dangerous, addictive, and impossible to undo. Eddie acted normal in public. You acted normal in public. But underneath every shared glance, every insult, every shove was the echo of his mouth on your skin and your legs locked around his waist. The two of you became very, very good at hiding it.
It started small.
After Hellfire, Eddie would offer you a ride home like it meant nothing. The moment the van doors shut, he’d grab the front of your shirt and drag you across the bench seat, pulling you into his lap. He kissed you like he’d been starving for days, hands everywhere, breath hot, windows fogging so fast you’d swear the air inside the van had turned molten. Sometimes the seatbelt would dig into your hip. Sometimes his rings would press into your thighs as he held you down. And every time, he’d murmur in your ear to be quiet or he’d make you louder.
The woods were worse. One night you slipped away from a bonfire with the excuse of “getting more beer,” and you barely made it ten steps before Eddie had you against a tree, messy and greedy. His rings were cold on your thighs, bark biting into your back, his hair tangled in your fingers as you tried to keep your noises swallowed.
You returned flushed, breathless, leaves in your hair, and Steve watched you the rest of the night with a suspicion that made your skin burn.
Then there was the trailer. With Wayne working double shifts, the moment the door clicked shut Eddie would pin you to the nearest surface—wall, couch, kitchen counter—and kiss you until your knees gave out. You’d pretend you’d stopped by to “drop something off,” but you never made it past the living room. Half the time you walked out with your shirt buttoned crooked and Eddie’s belt still undone.
The Harrington house was riskier. Much riskier. Which made it your favorite.
Sometimes, when the house was quiet and Steve had gone to bed, Eddie climbed up the porch railing and slipped through your second-story window like a man who’d done it a hundred times. He always came in a little breathless from the thrill, hair mussed from the wind. He’d cover your mouth with his hand as he kissed you, whispering against your lips to be quiet, sweetheart, before pushing you back onto the mattress with the softest, filthiest kind of urgency.
Other times were even worse.
Ten minutes before Steve came home from work, he’d have you in the laundry room, your back against the dryer, his hands gripping your jaw while the other fumbled with your waistband. You’d hear the garage door start to open, and the two of you would scramble into half-presentable shape, breathless and trembling, pretending nothing happened.
Or the upstairs bathroom—where you told Steve you were “fixing your eyeliner” and Eddie slipped in behind you, locking the door with a quiet click. He’d lift you onto the counter and kiss you like he dared the entire world to catch you, his fingers smearing your lip gloss, his breath warm against your throat as he murmured what he’d do if you weren’t both pressed for time.
It should’ve felt wrong. It should’ve been terrifying. Sometimes it was. But mostly, it was intoxicating—every stolen moment, every whispered insult, every time his fingers brushed yours under the table as if by accident, every time he muttered that you were impossible right before kissing you breathless.
You both claimed it was casual. Claimed it was just fun. Claimed no one would ever find out.
But sometimes Eddie looked at you in a way that made your stomach flip—like he remembered every sound you made that night, like he wanted to hear them all again.
And that look made one thing painfully clear:
Whatever this was, it wasn’t going away.
And it was only getting harder—much harder—to hide.
—--
You were already breathless, fingers gripping at his shoulders, the rhythm between you steady, familiar, addictive. Eddie hovered over you, curls falling into his face, breath warm against your cheek as he moved with you—slow, deep, like he wanted to feel every single second of it.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough, “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”
You let out a breathy laugh, pulling him closer with your legs around his waist, as he kept drilling his hips into you. “You say that every time.”
“That’s because it’s true.” His forehead dropped to yours, his smile crooked, eyes half-lidded and blown. “You—you have no idea what you do to me. None.”
You were about to tease him for being dramatic when you shifted your hips just a little too sharply, and the motion broke the rhythm—one of those clumsy, breathless slips that happened sometimes when you were too lost in each other to care.
Eddie froze.
Not because of the pause, but because in the space it created—one beat, one breath—something spilled out of him he didn’t plan.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his cock twitching inside you, voice cracking slightly, “I—I love you.”
The room went still.
Your fingers tightened on his arms. His eyes widened like he’d heard himself too late.
“Wait—no, I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he stammered, panic flickering across his face. “Not—not right now, not during—shit—”
You stared up at him, heart pounding for an entirely different reason.
“Eddie,” you breathed.
He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw flexing. “Just—pretend I didn’t say anything, okay? It slipped, that’s all, it’s—fuck, I didn’t want to mess this up. Not tonight.”
You were lost in him, breath ragged, heart hammering, fingers clutching at his shoulders when a sudden metallic scrape made both of you freeze.
"Hey, Munson, what you doing parked in front of my yard?"
Steve.
The van door swung open, and Steve’s eyes narrowed instantly, dark and furious. “What the hell—what are you two doing?!” he barked, stepping fully inside, voice rising over the music from the street.
Eddie’s eyes went wide, panic overtaking him. “Steve! No—wait, it’s not what it looks like!” he stammered, fumbling to cover you, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to shield you.
You scrambled, pulling the blanket and your jacket around yourself, cheeks burning. “Yeah! Totally innocent, Steve! We weren’t—”
Steve’s glare cut right through you both, sharp and accusatory. “I don’t want excuses, Munson. I… fuck I can’t believe you, my sister ?”
He swallowed hard, anger thick in his throat, then shook his head, eyes narrowing as if he were trying to process something obvious. “…But… honestly? This—this is kind of obvious. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, the way you act. I knew it. I should’ve known months ago.”
Eddie froze completely, his face a mixture of guilt and relief, while you clutched the blanket closer, heart hammering, cheeks flushed for entirely different reasons.
Steve let out a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re both idiots,” he muttered, anger still simmering, but now tempered with a resigned sort of acknowledgment. “Just… be smart about it.
The room hung in tense silence for a heartbeat before Steve stormed off, slamming the door, sleaving you and Eddie staring at each other, the air thick with heat, laughter, and something more dangerous than either of you had intended.
Eddie exhaled shakily, voice low and rough as he leaned in, brushing a stray curl from your face. “Well… that went… okay?”
You smirked, still breathless, still flushed, and shook your head. “Yeah, ‘okay.’ That’s one way to put it.”
Eddie coughs before turning to you. “ So what I said about, you know, how I said I love…”
Eddie leaned over you, chest pressed to yours, curls falling into his eyes, trying way too hard to look casual. He grinned crookedly, voice low and teasing, “So… that, uh… thing I said? Totally slipped. Didn’t happen. Forget it, okay?”
You raised an eyebrow, fingers tangling in his hair. “Oh really? Just slipped, huh?”
“Yeah!” he said, leaning back just enough to try and sound nonchalant. “Nothing. Forget it. Keep… keep doing whatever you were doing. Totally fine.” His attempt at casual was laughably transparent—heat still radiated off him, and the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
You smirked, pressing closer, lips brushing against his in a teasing, deliberate kiss. “Hmm… sure you want me to forget it?” you murmured against his mouth.
Eddie froze, eyes wide for a heartbeat, then groaned, leaning into the kiss, trying—and failing—to keep up the act. His hands found your waist, gripping, holding you close. “I… I didn’t mean it like that! I—shit, I wasn’t trying to—”
You cut him off, tilting your head and deepening the kiss, letting him taste your control for once. He let out a low, breathy laugh against your lips, curling around you anyway, surrendering just a little. “Fine,” he muttered, voice rough, “maybe I meant it. Just… don’t make it weird, okay?”
You smiled against his mouth, trailing your hands over his shoulders and down his back. “Weird’s overrated,” you whispered.
Eddie groaned, resting his forehead against yours, still trying to play it off, still trying to act like nothing had changed—but you could feel it, the way he kept leaning into you, the way his grip tightened as if letting go wasn’t an option. “Yeah… yeah, okay,” he admitted finally, voice low, half teasing, half raw. “Weird’s… fine. Just… don’t tell anyone I said anything, alright?”
You kissed him again, smirk tugging at your lips. “Mmm… I think I can keep that secret.”
You’re both the most popular for your categories on the site you do your work on but Eddie is just that tiny bit more popular than you.
You’re kind of jealous until you decide to watch his videos and you’re like oh okay I get it now.
Those big brown eyes, the slightly pathetic way he begs and moans that really does it for you and that curly hair you’d just love to pull.
You make a response video to his latest post, moaning his name as you fuck yourself on various dildos and it blows up. Everyone wants you two to make a video together.
Eddie has actually been the biggest fan of yours for a while, using a fake account to interact with your stuff and cannot believe his luck.
Eddie makes a saucy video asking you to come over and film some time.
“Hey, peaches. I saw you really liked my video and uh.. if you wanted.. we could make one together?”
He’s on his knees looking up at the camera all shy and flushed.
You can’t say no to an offer like that and when that video launches, it crashes the whole website with how popular it is.
Pretty Sweet - Eddie Munson X Henderson Sister Reader
masterlist
Summary: Dustin Henderson always leaves Hellfire early to keep his older sister far away from Eddie Munson’s obvious crush, but one forgotten character sheet ruins everything and gives Eddie the perfect chance to finally charm her right in front of Dustin’s horrified eyes.
Word Count: 1.5k
There was a reason Dustin Henderson always left Hellfire Club five minutes early, and it wasn’t because he had to make it back for curfew.
It was because you, his older sister, picked him up.
And because Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master with a flair for dramatics, had developed a hopeless, obvious crush on you the first time he saw you waiting by your car, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to whatever song was stuck in your head.
Dustin had caught the look instantly.
“Don’t even think about it,” he had warned Eddie that very first day, grabbing his backpack like it was a shield. “I’m serious, Eddie. She’s off-limits.”
Eddie had only grinned, popping the cap on his marker. “Off-limits? Henderson, she drove you here. She’s literally right there. In the parking lot. Breathing the same air as me.”
“Exactly the problem!”
And so a system was born—one Dustin upheld with military precision. Every campaign night: five minutes early. No exceptions. No stragglers. No chance for Eddie to “accidentally” walk out at the same time.
Until tonight.
Tonight, the dice betrayed him.
A natural 1.
Not in the game, oh no, Dustin had rolled a 20 for that, but in real life, fumbling for his bag and realising too late that he’d forgotten his character sheet somewhere in the mess of snack wrappers and graph paper.
By the time he sprinted back into the room, Eddie was already strolling toward the doors, humming something off-key, twirling his ringed keys around his finger.
And outside—right outside—you were leaning against the car, Hawkins’ sunset painting you in gold.
Dustin skidded to a halt. “No, no, no. Abort mission. Turn around. Eddie, don’t go out there!”
Eddie froze mid-step, eyes lighting up with the slow-building grin of a man who finally caught the monster he’d been chasing.
“Why’s that Henderson, you tryna hide something from me?” Eddie looked ahead, over Dustin's shoulder, with a large grin on his face. “Ah, someone?”
Eddie didn’t wait for Dustin’s answer. He brushed past him with that maddening, self-satisfied swagger, boots thudding on the linoleum as he pushed open the doors. The warm evening light hit his face, and he squinted dramatically, as if he’d just stepped into some divine realm—your realm. You glanced up at the sound, lifting your head from whatever you’d been scribbling on a notepad, and your eyes met Eddie’s.
He nearly tripped.
“Hey,” he said, suddenly softer, suddenly shy, like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. “Uh—hi. Didn’t know you were the designated Henderson chauffeur tonight.”
You gave him a small, amused smile. “I’m always the designated Henderson chauffeur.”
Behind Eddie, Dustin groaned loudly, breaking the air. “Oh my god. Y/N disengage, get in the car, and drive”
Eddie ignored him entirely. “Well, lucky us.”
You raised a brow. “‘Us’?”
Eddie cleared his throat. “Uh—me. Lucky me.”
Dustin threw his hands up. “No. Nope. Eddie, abort. Retreat. Go back inside and pretend this never happened—”
You tugged open the passenger door for your brother. “Dustin, it’s fine, get in the car. Let him talk. You never let me meet your friends”
Eddie visibly perked up whilst Dustin visibly died inside.
Eddie placed a hand over his heart, staggering back a step like he’d just been given divine permission to breathe.
“You hear that, Henderson?” he said, eyes shining with theatrical triumph. “Your sister wants to meet your friends. Specifically me. Mostly me.”
Dustin shoved his backpack into the car with a force that suggested he wished it were Eddie instead. “I hate this. I hate both of you. I’m telling Mom.”
“You do that,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be devastated to hear that someone finds her daughter interesting.”
Eddie snorted, then tried to disguise it as a suave laugh. It absolutely failed.
You shut Dustin’s door before he could protest again and turned back to Eddie, crossing your arms lightly over your chest. “So. Eddie Munson.”
He straightened like someone had just called his name at roll call. “That is me. In the flesh. In the leather.” He gestured vaguely at his jacket. “And the denim.”
You fought a smile. “Dustin talks about you a lot.”
Behind the rolled-up window, Dustin slapped both hands against the glass. “NO I DON’T.”
Eddie beamed. “Oh yeah? All good things, I hope.”
“Depends what you consider ‘good.’” You smirked. “Lots of yelling. Something about unfair campaigns. A dramatic monologue about you killing his character two weeks ago.”
Eddie gasped, affronted. “I didn’t kill his character. He threw himself into a pit trap after I explicitly told him not to.”
Dustin yelled through the closed window: “YOU SAID IT WASN’T A TRAP!”
“I lied! That’s storytelling!” Eddie shouted back, no longer looking at him, still looking at you.
You laughed, genuinely, bright and warm, and Eddie looked like he could live off that sound for a year. He rubbed his palms against his jeans, suddenly restless. “So, uh… since fate has clearly intervened tonight—thanks for the nat 1, Henderson—I was thinking… maybe… if you’re not too busy sometime, we could… I dunno.” He shrugged, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Hang out? Maybe grab something to eat? Talk without your brother trying to tackle me?”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider it even though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away.
“That depends,” you said. “Would Dustin survive the shock?”
From inside the car, Dustin pressed his face to the window, eyes wide with horror. “PLEASE DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM.”
Eddie placed a hand on the car roof, leaning in closer, hopeful and helpless in the same breath. “I’ll take my chances.”
You cut him off. “Maybe.”
Eddie blinked. “Maybe?”
You shrugged. “Maybe we can hang out,”
Eddie grinned, slow and stunned and triumphant. “I’ll take a ‘maybe.’ ‘Maybe’ sounds like a strong ‘yes’ waiting to happen.”
Eddie’s grin was still stretching across his face, wide and triumphant, when he moved toward your car. He hooked his fingers around the handle like he had done it a hundred times before, although the truth showed in the careful and almost reverent way he pulled the door open. Inside, Dustin snapped his head toward him, eyes narrowed into the kind of death stare usually saved for mortal enemies or, apparently, potential brothers-in-law.
“Don’t you dare,” Dustin warned, his voice high with panic and disbelief. Eddie leaned down just enough to meet the younger Henderson’s eyes directly. The two of them froze, locked in an entirely ridiculous yet absolutely serious battle of wills.
Dustin’s glare promised violence. Eddie’s stare promised trouble.
The tension held for a moment. Then Eddie’s expression shifted slowly, showing a smug smile before he lifted his hand in one deliberate motion and flipped Dustin off right in his face.
“You absolute—!” Dustin sputtered, smacking his palm against the window with enough force to rattle the whole door.
Eddie had already stopped paying attention. When he turned back to you, the mischief fell away instantly. His posture straightened, and he pushed the door open a little more with exaggerated gentleness, almost as if he needed you to know he did have manners, even if he used them selectively.
“There you go,” he said, his voice softer. “Wouldn’t want the designated Henderson chauffeur to deal with any complications.”
You could not help smiling. There was something undeniably endearing about how quickly he could shift from menace to sweet. “Thanks,” you said, sincere despite Dustin’s meltdown.
“Anytime,” Eddie replied. The word came out like a promise, and his grin grew smaller and warmer. He looked like he was trying very hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet.
Inside the car, Dustin made a dramatic noise that sounded half wounded animal and half outraged brother. “I cannot believe this. He flipped me off. In front of you.”
You shut his door before he could work himself up further and moved around the car to take your seat behind the wheel. Through the windshield, you caught Eddie backing away with that same stunned, proud smile on his face. He lifted a hand in a small wave. You returned it before starting the engine.
The moment the car rolled forward, Dustin erupted.
“Why are you smiling?” he demanded. He twisted in his seat with an expression that accused you of committing several crimes. “He insulted me. He flipped me off. He is trying to date you. How is any of this funny?”
You shrugged lightly as you merged onto the road, fingers tapping the steering wheel in a rhythm you did not think about. “I do not know, Dustybun. Maybe because he is sweet.”
Dustin made a strangled noise and slumped dramatically into his seatbelt. “Sweet? Sweet? Eddie Munson is not sweet. Eddie Munson is chaos in denim.”
“It could be worse,” you said with a tiny smirk.
Dustin threw his hands up in complete exasperation. “How? How could this possibly be worse?”
In the rearview mirror, you caught one last image of the parking lot. Eddie was still standing there, fists raised, bouncing on his heels like someone celebrating a long-awaited victory. He looked absolutely thrilled.
To Hell And Back - Vampire Eddie X Reader Part Six
PART ONE LINK:
PART TWO LINK:
PART THREE LINK:
PART FOUR LINK:
PART FIVE LINK:
"If you wanna save her, you're gonna have to trust a dead guy."
Season 5 spoilers:
Y/N was never meant to enter the Upside Down but when Holly Wheeler is dragged into it by a monster, she follows without hesitation. Now she's trapped in a rotting reflection of Hawkins… and the only one who can help her is a boy who should be dead.
Eddie Munson isn't human anymore. And Holly is running out of time.
Word Count: 2392
Stranger Things fanfiction | Dark Eddie | Angst | Horror | AU
I woke to the feeling of being watched.
Not in the way the Upside Down watched you — not with hunger or malice or something ancient pressing against your skin. With care.
The red lamp was still glowing low beside Eddie’s bed, its light watered down by shadow, turning the mess of his trailer into something almost soft. Almost safe. The air was quiet in a way that felt earned rather than empty.
Eddie was awake.
He always was.
I shifted, my body heavy and sore in the slow, aching way that meant I’d actually slept properly slept for the first time since Holly had been taken. His arm rested along the back of the mattress, close enough that I could feel warmth without being caged by it. He hadn’t moved it. Hadn’t dared.
Like he was afraid breaking the stillness might break me too.
“You’re staring,” I murmured, voice rough with sleep.
He flinched ,just slightly ,like he’d been caught with a hand in something soft and fragile and not meant for him.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” I shifted onto my side so I could see him properly. His face looked different like this — less haunted in the dim light, less carved into shadow. Still sharp. Still dangerous in that Eddie way.
I shifted under the blanket, the movement making the mattress dip softly between us. His head turned instantly.
“Hey,” he murmured.
It wasn’t teasing this time.
Not cocky.
Just real.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
The quiet stretched again, thick with the weight of everything we hadn’t said when our mouths were busy doing other things.
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, suddenly shy in a way I hadn’t been hours ago. Eddie noticed. He always noticed.
“You don’t gotta hide,” he said gently. “I’m not—”
“I know,” I cut in, then softened. “I just… don’t know how to act right now ”, my head dips. “Holly is out there and I’m here…”
“…Holly is out there and I’m here,” I finished quietly, staring down at the tangled blanket like it might judge me too. “I don’t know how to be… this, when she’s still missing. It feels wrong. Like I’m not allowed to breathe until she’s safe.”
Eddie didn’t answer right away.
When he did, his voice was low and careful, like he was afraid certain words might cut deeper than any blade. “You’re allowed,” he said simply. “You’re allowed to feel warm and alive even if the world’s on fire. Especially then.”
I shook my head, tears burning hot and sudden behind my eyes. “What if something happens to her while I’m lying here pretending I can forget for even a second?”
“Then that second didn’t erase your love for her,” he said, a quiet urgency slipping into his voice now. “It just gave you strength to keep going.”
I finally looked at him.
Really looked.
He wasn’t teasing. Not hiding behind sarcasm or swagger or anything loud enough to keep the truth from touching him. He looked like someone who had lost everything and was still offering pieces of himself anyway.
“You think I planned any of this?” I whispered. “I didn’t ask for… for you. Or this. I didn’t want to fall into something when everything’s broken.”
His jaw tightened. “Neither did I,” he admitted. “But here you are. And here I am. Breathing anyway.”
He hesitated. Then reached out, not touching me at first. Just close enough that I could feel the heat of his hand at my wrist. A crackling noise came from the radio on his bedside table.
A soft click came from the radio.
Not static this time. Music spilled into the room instead—low, warped around the edges, but unmistakable.
I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany. I knew it from the first four counts.
The sound shouldn’t have worked. Nothing electronic ever did in this place. Yet there it was, gentle and out of place, seeping into the trailer like a ghost that had wandered out of the wrong decade. I froze. Eddie did too.
The music wasn’t loud. It didn’t demand attention. It just… existed. Warm and almost tender in a world that gave nothing away for free.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My hand drifted over the blanket without thinking and brushed against Eddie’s fingers. He didn’t pull away. If anything, his hand shifted closer, pressing into mine like the contact mattered more now that something else had intruded.
I tilted my head, glancing at the radio as the song played. “Has it ever done that before?” I asked quietly, my voice barely above the soft melody.
Eddie shook his head, eyes fixed on the flickering red light rather than the speaker. “No. Never.”
I swallowed, the tight knot in my chest tugging at me. “Could… could it be Holly?” I whispered, the thought catching somewhere between hope and fear.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand brushed mine again, grounding me when the possibility felt too big, too fragile. Finally, his voice came, low and careful. “I don’t know. But… if it is, we’ll find her.”
The soft strains of I Think We’re Alone Now filled the trailer, and we both began gathering our clothes, the quiet intimacy stretching between us like a fragile thread. I tugged my shirt over my head, glancing at him from under my lashes. “Eddie… do you think… last night was a mistake?”
He paused, pulling his shirt over his shoulders, then turned just enough to meet my gaze. His lips quirked into that crooked half-smile, half-smirk that always made my chest tighten. “A mistake?” he echoed, his voice low, teasing but warm. “Y/N… I’ve been dreaming about doing that with you since middle school. If anything, it was… exactly what I’ve wanted for years.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly, half in disbelief, half in awe of the way he could make the world shrink down to just us in a single sentence.
I tugged my shirt on, tugging the fabric over my shoulders as the music played softly, my mind half on Eddie, half on Holly. I met his gaze, voice quiet but steady. “When we save Holly… when we get her out… we will get out here the real world, all of it. And then… you can go home.”
Eddie froze mid-motion, his hands stilling over his shirt. His jaw tightened, and for a long, heavy beat, he didn’t answer. I held my breath, searching his face, but all I got was that familiar shadow passing over his dark eyes.
Finally, he muttered, almost to himself, “Yeah… I wish it were that simple.”
That single sentence, weighed down with things unsaid, hit me harder than any punch. I realised, with a sinking knot in my chest, that he might not be able to leave this place. The Upside Down wasn’t just a nightmare anymore — it was his cage.
I frowned, taking a cautious step closer. “What do you mean?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Why wouldn’t you just… come back with us?”
Eddie’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, then he looked back at me, dark eyes heavy with something I couldn’t quite name. “Think about it,” he said slowly, voice low, almost bitter. “Why haven’t I ever tried to get back through a gate before? Not once?”
I blinked, trying to read him. “I… don’t know. I thought… I thought maybe you were hiding, or—”
“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “I can’t. I can’t leave.” His hand clenched into a fist at his side. “The Upside Down… it’s the only reason I’m still… me. It’s keeping me alive.”
The words hung between us, heavy and sharp. The music in the background softened, almost reverent, as if the world itself had paused. I swallowed, feeling the weight of what he was saying settle deep into my chest. This wasn’t just about monsters or danger anymore — it was about Eddie, and the world that had claimed him long before I found him.
“You haven’t even tried,” anger fills my face.
“You haven’t even tried,” I said again, quieter now, the words shaking as they left me. My hands curled into the blanket, knuckles white. “You could’ve tried. You should’ve… at least once.”
Eddie’s eyes flicked up to mine, something sharp and pained in them. He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then thought better of it. His shoulders sagged just a little instead.
“I know,” he said.
The fight drained out of me all at once. What was left behind hurt worse.
I swallowed and looked away from him, staring at the far wall of the trailer, at cracks in the rusted metal that looked like they’d been there forever. “I just…” My voice broke. “I hate that this place gets to keep you. I hate that it’s already stolen so much from you and now it wants to pretend it’s the only thing holding you together.”
He didn’t say anything.
After a moment, I shook my head slowly. “But I also know you,” I added, quieter. “And you wouldn’t just give up. Not on something like this. Not on your own life.”
I finally looked back at him.
“And if you’re saying you can’t leave… then I believe you. Even if I don’t want to.”
His breath hitched slightly at that.
“You always were too good at seeing through me,” he murmured.
I gave a small, sad smile. “Someone had to.”
The music from the radio drifted around us, soft and distorted, like it was struggling to survive in a place that didn’t want it. Eddie reached out then, not grabbing me, just resting his hand against mine, warm and steady.
“We’ll get her back,” he said quietly. “I promise you that much.”
I laced my fingers through his, tightening my grip. “Then that’s what we do first,” I whispered. “Everything else… we’ll figure out after.”
He squeezed my hand once, a silent promise in return.
Eddie and I moved like shadows through the blackened, twisted landscape, avoiding the larger horrors and clinging to the rhythm we had settled into: step, pause, scan, repeat.
-------------------
Eventually, the trees thinned, giving way to a strange, suffocating stillness. Ahead, a wall rose from the ground, impossibly tall and thick, composed entirely of writhing, dark vines. They pulsed as if a heartbeat ran through them, sending soft, rhythmic thumps into the ground beneath our feet. The wall stretched endlessly in both directions, merging into the gray horizon that seemed to bend the light—or the absence of it—into a permanent twilight.
I stopped, breath catching in my throat. “It… it just keeps going,” I whispered. My voice sounded small, swallowed by the oppressive presence of the living barrier.
Eddie’s eyes scanned it carefully, sharp and assessing. His jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s not just a fence. It’s… alive. And it knows we’re here.”
I stepped closer, reaching out tentatively to touch one of the vines. It shivered under my fingers, a faint pulse traveling up my arm. My stomach lurched. “Alive… like it can think?”
Eddie shook his head, crouching slightly to the ground. “Not thinking like us. But it reacts. Defends. Senses.” He glanced back at me, expression dark, tense. “We’re gonna have to be smart. This isn’t something you just walk through.”
The sheer scale of it pressed down on me. Width, height, length… endless. Pulsating. Watching. I shivered, instinctively pulling closer to him, feeling the warmth of his presence anchor me amid the alien terror.
Eddie takes a knife from his jacket pocket, stabbing it directly into the wall.
Eddie’s hand tightened around the knife’s handle. He plunged it into one of the pulsing vines, and for a brief second, it quivered violently—almost as if it had flinched. The wall didn’t recoil or scream, but the pulse beneath our feet shifted, faster, uneven, like a heartbeat that had skipped.
I instinctively jumped back, my fingers tightening around his arm. “Eddie… what—what was that?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the wall. “Testing,” he muttered, voice low, strained with focus. I look at the knife, with a sense of longing.
“Let me try,” I mutter.
“Look Prom Queen, I’m not tryna doubt your girl power but…” I snatch the knife from him. “And she’s taken my knife,” he sighs.
I snatched the knife from his hand before he could protest. “Let me try,” I muttered, determination burning hotter than fear.
“Look, Prom Queen, I’m not—” he started, but the words died in his throat as I plunged the blade into the writhing mass.
At first, it seemed like it would yield, just like his stab had, quivering slightly under the pressure of the steel. Then—suddenly—the vine constricted, cold and unrelenting, around my forearm. The pulse beneath the ground stuttered violently, and a sharp pain lanced up my arm. I yelped, struggling to pull back, but it wasn’t giving.
“Y/N!” Eddie hissed, dropping to his knees beside me, hands gripping my arm. “Pull back, okay? Just… we’ll get you—”
But the wall wasn’t letting go. It was alive in a way I’d never imagined, not just pulsing but sensing, reacting. Slowly, inexorably, the vine began to draw me in. My heart hammered, breath catching as I realized I was being swallowed—arm first, shoulder next—into the wall itself.
The cold, slick pressure crawled up my skin as the vines shifted, opening around my arm like a mouth.
“It’s— it’s not letting go!” I cried.
Eddie braced his boots into the ground, hauling with everything he had. His grip burned against my ribs.
“I’ve got you! I’ve got you—don’t let it take you!”
The vines inched upward.
Shoulder.
Neck.
The wall wasn’t pulling violently.
It was absorbing me.
“Eddie—” I sobbed.
His eyes were wild now, dark veins standing out against his skin. “No—No—NO—!”
He yanked with a snarl that didn’t sound human.
The vines surged.
My body slipped from his grasp.
The world twisted cold and dark as the wall swallowed me whole.
My last glimpse of him was Eddie on his knees, clawing at the living barrier, screaming my name into a wall that did not care.
To Hell And Back - Vampire Eddie X Reader Part Five
PART ONE LINK:
PART TWO LINK:
PART THREE LINK:
PART FOUR LINK:
"If you wanna save her, you're gonna have to trust a dead guy."
Season 5 spoilers:
Y/N was never meant to enter the Upside Down but when Holly Wheeler is dragged into it by a monster, she follows without hesitation. Now she's trapped in a rotting reflection of Hawkins… and the only one who can help her is a boy who should be dead.
Eddie Munson isn't human anymore. And Holly is running out of time.
Word Count: 4447
Stranger Things fanfiction | Dark Eddie | Angst | Horror | AU
The first thing I felt was motion.
Not walking. Not falling.
Being dragged through space.
The truck lurched beneath me, the floor vibrating violently with every uneven turn of whatever dead road we were on. My head throbbed from where something had struck me earlier, and it took a few seconds too long for my foggy brain to catch up to the present. When it did, panic hit like a second blow.
Chains.
Cold, real, biting into my wrists and ankles. Heavy enough that even shifting sent a sharp clatter reverberating through the metal walls of the truck. My arms were pinned awkwardly at my sides, my feet locked in place on the ridged floor. I sucked in a breath and the air tasted wrong — stale, metallic, thick with oil and rust.
“Eddie,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I twisted my wrists uselessly against the metal. “Eddie—”
I turned my head as far as the chain would allow and saw him slumped against the opposite wall of the truck, arms shackled high, head tilted slightly forward. In the dim red emergency lights, his face looked wrong — too pale, eyes sunk deep into shadow, dark veins faintly marbling the skin around them.
For a terrifying second, I thought he wasn’t breathing.
“Eddie,” I said louder, panic clawing up my throat. “Eddie!”
His lashes fluttered.
“…Hey,” he rasped.
The sound of his voice hit harder than the truck’s jolting wheels. Relief punched the air from my lungs in one shaking breath.
“You’re awake,” I whispered.
“Barely,” he muttered, lifting his head with visible effort. “You, uh… you look worse.”
I let out a wet laugh that immediately broke into a sob. “I’m chained to the floor of a government truck in hell, Eddie.”
“Fair,” he murmured. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… valid.”
The truck hit a rut and the chains jerked hard, biting into my skin. A sharp cry ripped from my throat before I could stop it. My breath came too fast, too shallow, the walls suddenly pressing in too close, too tight, too everywhere.
“I can’t get out,” I gasped. “I can’t— I can’t move—”
“Hey,” Eddie cut in, his voice low and firm despite the strain behind it. “Prom Queen. Eyes on me.”
I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. “Eddie, I can’t breathe.”
“Yes, you can,” he said quietly. “You’re doing it right now. It just feels wrong because you’re scared.”
That somehow made it worse — but also real.
“Look at me,” he repeated, softer this time.
I forced my eyes to his.
His gaze was sharp even through exhaustion. Anchoring. Holding me in place when everything else felt like it was slipping sideways.
“Breathe with me,” he said. “In slow. Out slower.”
I tried. Failed. Tried again.
My lungs burned.
The panic didn’t vanish — but it dulled around the edges.
“There you go,” he said gently. “Good girl. Now again.”
I hated that my chest eased at his voice. Hated that he could still calm me even like this — shackled and half‑broken.
When my breathing finally steadied into something close to normal, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and tested the cuffs again, slower this time, more careful.
“Where are they taking us?” I asked, my voice thin beneath the grinding engine and rattling chains.
Eddie lifted his head slightly, eyes tracking the dark metal ceiling like he could see through miles of concrete and rot. “Someplace they don’t plan on letting us leave,” he said quietly. There was no humor in it. No edge. Just fact.
The truck swayed sharply and the cuffs cut into my wrists again. I flinched and sucked in a breath, fighting the hot sting that crawled up my arms. Panic threatened to rise again, but I clung to the sound of Eddie’s breathing on the other side of the truck. It was shallow. Uneven. Wrong.
“You don’t look okay,” I said, forcing the words out. “Eddie… you look worse than before.”
He didn’t answer right away.
In the low red emergency light, the dark veins beneath his eyes stood out even more, like ink bleeding into pale skin. His lips were slightly parted, his chest barely rising. He looked… hollow. Like something essential had already been taken from him.
“You’re starving,” I whispered.
His jaw tightened.
“…Yeah.”
The word landed heavy.
“For how long?” I asked.
He closed his eyes briefly, like even thinking about it hurt. “Too long.”
The truth of it made my throat tighten.
I looked down at my own hands — chafed, dirty, trembling in their restraints. I swallowed hard and then lifted my head again. “Then take mine.”
His eyes snapped open.
“No.”
“Eddie—”
“No.” His voice was sharper now, rougher. “Don’t even say that.”
“You’re barely conscious,” I said. “And if you pass out, then it’s over. For both of us.”
“That’s not a reason,” he muttered.
“It is when you’re the only one still breathing like this is a choice.”
He shook his head violently, chains rattling. “You don’t get it. I can’t stop once I start. It’s not like a sip of water. It’s not controlled. It’s hunger. It’s—” He broke off and swallowed thickly. “It’s ugly.”
“So is getting dragged off by armed men into a lab in hell,” I whispered. “But here we are.”
Silence swallowed the truck for a moment, broken only by the roar of the engine and the faint clink of metal.
“You never should’ve followed her,” he muttered, quieter now. “And you definitely never should’ve followed me.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I did. And now you’re here too. So we deal with it together.”
He looked at me then. Truly looked. Not like I was fragile. Not like I was prey.
Like I was choosing him anyway.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said hoarsely.
“You already are,” I replied softly. “Just by fading.”
The words hung between us, thick and trembling.
Eddie shut his eyes and leaned his forehead back against the wall of the truck, the movement slow, exhausted.
“…I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he whispered.
I met his gaze through the dim light. “I’m already afraid of everything else.”
The truck jolted again, carrying us deeper into something neither of us could see — or stop. And this time, Eddie didn’t pull away when he moved a little closer.
Eddie shifted closer.
The movement was slow and deliberate, as if his body itself was taking permission from his mind before going any further. The chains dragged softly across the truck floor as he leaned toward me, close enough now that I could feel his breath against my skin.
“Don’t look at me,” he said under his breath.
Not sharp. Not teasing. Raw.
I swallowed hard. “Eddie—”
“Please,” he whispered, and there was something in his voice that made my chest ache. “I can’t… not if you’re looking at me.”
I turned my head away, fixing my eyes on the scratched metal wall beside me. My heart hammered against my ribs as I held out my wrist with shaking fingers, the chain sliding when my arm moved.
I felt him hesitate. Then his hand wrapped around my wrist. His fingers were warm but rings cold.
He lifted my hand slightly — not the way someone does when they’re taking something, but the way you move something precious, something breakable.
And then, his lips brushed against my skin. A kiss. Soft. Barely there. A whisper of contact that sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with fear. It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t taking.It was goodbye in a language neither of us spoke out loud.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
His breath lingered where his mouth had been.
My pulse jumped beneath his thumb as the truck lurched forward, dragging us deeper into whatever darkness was waiting ahead.
And for one fragile second…
I forgot the chains.
My breath hitched. His forehead tilted down closer, warm against my arm, and then his teeth pressed against me. Not hard, a bite that was sudden, sharp, a sting that flared across my nerves before melting into a strange, spreading heat that left my pulse roaring. The chains rattled with the truck’s movement, metal clinking harshly against metal, but all I could feel was him, the tight, terrifying, intimate pull.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my focus inward. It was uncomfortable. Unsettling. My blood raced in a way that made my ears hum and my stomach churn, but I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Not when he was leaning so close, not when his hands gripped me with a tension that was half restraint, half desperation.
“I—tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, his voice raw and strained, as if the effort of holding himself back was costing him more than I realized.
The moment stretched. I could hear the truck shuddering, feel the chains bite into my skin with every jolt, feel Eddie’s every shuddering inhale against my wrist. Then the sensation spread — a tug deep inside, like something inside me had shifted slightly, a current running through my veins that made my knees go weak and my fingers tingle.
He stilled instantly, tilting his head slightly as if he could feel my reaction through the chain, through the faint warmth of my pulse against his lips. “…I’m sorry,” he murmured against my skin, the words so soft they might have been lost in the rumble of the truck, “I can stop.”
“No,” I whispered, my fingers clutching weakly at his sleeve, desperate. “Just… don’t leave.”
His hand lifted, bracing against the wall as his forehead pressed lightly to my arm. The tension in his shoulders, the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the tremor in his fingers — everything screamed that this was almost unbearable for him. Almost uncontrollable. The truck lurched again, chains rattling, and I felt it, the strange pull inside me, the blood pounding in my veins, the world tilting, and yet I stayed conscious. Still here. Still me.
“Eddie,” I breathed, and he jerked back so fast my pulse threatened to leave my chest with it, like he’d realized just how much he’d let himself slip. His eyes, darkened and fierce in the flickering light, were wide and terrified, reflecting the shadowed red of the truck around us.
“I didn’t mean to—” he started, voice low, strained, almost breaking. “I just— I couldn’t—”
I was dizzy, heart racing, breath uneven, but I managed a soft, shaky laugh through the panic. “You didn’t hurt me,” I said, voice trembling. “You stopped.”
His shoulders slumped slightly, like the weight of guilt and fear and exhaustion all pooled there in a heavy wave. “…I’m supposed to be a monster,” he whispered.
I swallowed hard, tasting fear and iron and the faint tang of his proximity, and forced a quiet, firm answer. “Then you’re doing a really bad job at it.”
A tension lingered between us — unspoken, thick, like the very air in the truck had pulled tight — and yet for the first time since we’d been captured, I felt something solid. Something like trust. Something like hope, fragile as it was, threading through the clamor of chains, the heat of blood, the oppressive sway of the truck around us.
Eddie leaned back, shuddering as the strength slowly returned to his limbs. I watched, half terrified, half mesmerized, as the color returned to his pale skin, his dark veins fading slightly, his shoulders regaining some of their former bulk. The chains rattled lightly as he tested his wrists, flexing fingers that had moments ago felt like they belonged to someone else entirely.
I sat across from him, still shaky, still slick with sweat and blood, and tried to process the shift. “You… you’re… really back?” I asked, voice trembling.
He gave a short, crooked laugh, one corner of his mouth pulling up like a shadow of the Eddie I had known. “Back enough,” he muttered. Then his eyes flicked toward mine, dark and intense. “We don’t have much time. We need a plan.”
I swallowed hard, nodding. My head still throbbed, my wrists burned where the chains bit into my skin. “Okay,” I whispered, “what do we do?”
He leaned in closer, chains rattling as he shifted. “Listen, Prom Queen,” he said quietly, almost casually, “they’re moving us somewhere else soon. Probably to a holding area, maybe to the lab. But we have a small window. They don’t expect resistance from… well, someone who looks like you.”
I stared straight at him, chest tight, pulse hammering. “Really, Eddie? Me? You think I look like someone who can’t fight back? Someone you have to protect?” My voice had more bite than I meant, but I needed the shield.
Eddie’s dark eyes darted away for a fraction of a second, then back to mine, veins dark around the edges. His lips twitched like he was about to say something, then stopped. Finally, he muttered, almost under his breath, “You… uh… you’re… really pretty, you know that?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He scratched the back of his neck, leaning awkwardly against the wall, the chains rattling with his movement. “I mean… uh… it’s not the time for this, I know, but… yeah. Pretty. And smart. And, you know… probably better at this than me.” His gaze flicked to the floor for a heartbeat, then back to mine, unsteady but intense.
I felt my chest heat, but I masked it with a sharp laugh. “Great. Thanks for the pep talk, undead Eddie. You’ve got me motivated and blushing all at once, okay back to the plan”
Eddie’s lips twitched into that half-smile that had once made me feel like I could survive anything. “We trick them. You’ll pretend to be—well, dead. They’ve already been feeding us these tazers, right? So we look the part. But the moment the doors open…” His hand gestured toward me, his eyes bright with dangerous focus, “we act.”
My stomach twisted. “And you? You—how will you?”
He flexed his fingers, shadows dancing across his veins as he tested his newfound strength. “I’ve got it. You just have to follow my lead, trust me. One wrong move and we’re done.”
I swallowed, nodding. “Okay. I can do that. But…” My voice wavered. “You have to stay in control. I can’t—”
“I know,” he interrupted, voice low, commanding. “I won’t touch you. Not until it’s necessary. We’re a team, yeah? But right now, you do your part.”
I nodded, biting my lip, trying to steady my fear.
___
Time passed in tense silence, broken only by the low rumble of the truck’s engine and the occasional scrape of metal against metal. My chest still ached, my wrists and ankles burned, but I focused on Eddie, on the plan, on keeping my panic from spiraling.
Then it happened. The truck slowed, a low clank of the rear doors unlocking reverberating through the metal walls. My stomach dropped. I froze. The faint red glow of emergency lights illuminated the floor, the chains, and Eddie’s sharp, unreadable face.
The back doors creaked open. A man in a uniform appeared, rifle at the ready, flashlight sweeping the interior. I barely breathed.
Eddie’s eyes met mine, dark and electric. A dangerous gleam settled there. He was alive, fully alive, but he had been waiting for this.
The guard stepped inside, crouching slightly, hands going to Eddie’s neck. My pulse thundered in my ears.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then Eddie acted.
In one fluid motion, he surged forward. His hand locked around the guard’s throat with terrifying speed and strength. The man barely had time to react — the rifle clattered to the floor, his body slammed into the metal wall, and he crumpled, unconscious before I even processed what had happened.
I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Eddie wiped his mouth slowly, dark eyes still scanning, still dangerous.
“Never… trust a fake corpse,” he muttered quietly, and I realized then that the entire time he had been conserving his strength, preparing for exactly this moment.
We moved fast. Chains rattled as we shifted to the edge of the truck’s interior, testing the cuffs. I pulled, twisted, tugged. Eddie pressed close behind me, whispering instructions, helping me leverage my weight. The metal cut into my skin, but we worked together, synchronizing our movements with sharp nods and hand signals.
“You’re going to push, I’m going to pull,” he instructed, his voice low and urgent. “Ready?”
I nodded, gritting my teeth. “Ready.”
On three, we strained. My muscles screamed, the chains groaned. The guard outside hadn’t noticed yet — the sound of his distant footsteps and muffled shouts from the road barely carried.
“Now!” Eddie hissed. He braced his feet, yanked with all his weight. The chains shuddered violently, bolts straining. My heart thudded so hard I thought it might explode.
The metal gave way with a loud snap, one cuff popping free from the floor. I twisted, kicking the last one against the side of the truck. Eddie lunged, levering it off.
We were free — at least, almost. But the moment had passed. Another guard might appear at any second. We had to move, had to think, had to get somewhere safe.
where the metal had dug in. Eddie’s presence at my side was both comforting and unsettling — steady, aware, and yet… different. Stronger, sharper, his senses clearly tuned to every rustle and twitch in the corrupted forest around us.
The Upside Down stretched out before us like a nightmare etched in color and shadow. Dead trees arched toward the bruised sky, their skeletal branches curling like blackened fingers. Vines moved faintly under their own will, crawling across the cracked earth and slick, rotted leaves. Every step I took made the ground squelch beneath my boots, a sick, wet sound that made my stomach twist.
“Stay close,” Eddie murmured, his voice low, threading through the unnatural quiet like a lifeline.
I tried to match his pace, though each step felt heavier than the last. The stench of rot and stormwater clung to my lungs, but the fear that had clawed at me before was tempered by his calm. “Eddie… how do you even see in this?” I whispered, craning my neck to look around, but the dim, sickly glow of the sky made every shadow stretch too long.
He gave a faint, crooked smile, almost invisible in the gloom. “You get used to it. Smell the air. Hear it. You can tell which way danger’s coming.” His eyes flicked to mine, dark and unnervingly sharp. “And besides… I have a pretty good idea where we’re going.”
The forest seemed to shift around us as we moved, trees twisting subtly in the corners of my vision, like the Upside Down itself was alive and watching. I could hear faint echoes — maybe my imagination, maybe something following — and each one made my chest tighten. Holly’s face flashed through my mind, pale and terrified, and my pace quickened despite Eddie’s steadying grip on my elbow.
“Careful,” he hissed, tugging gently. “Don’t fall. Don’t make noise.”
I swallowed, forcing my breathing to calm as we ducked under a particularly thick, pulsating vine. The ground slicked beneath my boots, and I almost slipped, but Eddie caught me in an instant, his hands strong and precise. “You’re fine,” he muttered, his voice quiet but firm, grounding me in a place that otherwise had no anchors.
We moved through the haze of death and rot, Eddie leading, and I followed, trusting despite every instinct screaming at me to panic. At some point, the forest started to thin, and the familiar crooked outline of his trailer appeared through the trees, warped but unmistakable. Relief surged in me, sharp and immediate. The trailer, fragile and human amidst the endless wrongness of this world, felt like a lifeline. And as the trailer’s warped metal walls loomed in the dim glow, I realized just how much I depended on Eddie — for strength, for guidance, and maybe, in a way I wasn’t ready to admit, for more.
We reached the trailer’s door, its warped metal groaning as Eddie nudged it open. Inside, the familiar dim clutter greeted us — shelves stacked with Dungeons & Dragons books, scattered dice, and makeshift whittled miniatures, the faint smell of smoke and oil lingering in the air. The shadows seemed less oppressive here, less alive, but the echo of the Upside Down still clung to the edges of the room.
“Sit,” Eddie murmured, gesturing to the worn futon pushed against the wall. I eased down carefully, every joint stiff and sore from the trek. He crouched in front of me, eyes scanning my wrist where the chains had cut deep, the skin raw and streaked with blood.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, tugging a strip of cloth from his jacket. He worked quickly but gently, wrapping the wound with careful precision. His fingers brushed my skin more than once, and each time a shiver ran through me. I tried not to notice, tried not to think about the way his touch lingered, the heat it left behind.
“You okay?” he asked softly, meeting my gaze. The faint red glow from the makeshift lamp flickered across his features, catching the dark veins around his eyes, the sharp planes of his face, and the vulnerability that sometimes peeked through his usual bravado.
“I… will be,” I whispered, my voice quiet, almost lost in the cluttered silence.
Eddie’s hand hovered over my wrist for a second longer than necessary. Then, almost hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You’re… pretty stubborn,” he said, his tone teasing but low, intimate.
I laughed softly, a brittle sound that caught in my throat. “And you’re… unpredictable.”
The moment stretched, thick and warm, the chaos of the Upside Down and the world outside fading for just a heartbeat. His eyes met mine, searching, and I found myself leaning closer before I even realized it. His hand slipped over mine, thumb brushing the back of my fingers. A shiver ran up my arm, and I let my hand stay there, letting the warmth of his touch anchor me in the small bubble of safety inside his trailer.
“Don’t make me get used to this,” he murmured, half a warning, half a confession.
“Get used to what?”
Eddie’s lips twitched, half-smile, half-smirk, and his dark eyes glimmered in the red light. “You.” he said softly, almost like he was testing the words on his tongue. His hand stayed over mine, the weight and warmth grounding in a way that made my chest tighten.
Then, almost hesitantly, he lifted his other hand and brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering at my cheek for just a moment longer than necessary.
Before I could even respond, he leaned in slowly, giving me time to pull back, though I didn’t. His lips met mine in a gentle, searching kiss, tentative at first, like he was testing the world to see if it would let him stay in this small bubble of safety with me. Each brush of his lips grew more insistent, more heated. His thumb traced slow, teasing patterns over the back of my hand while his mouth moved with a boldness that stole my breath. The red glow from the lamp flickered across us, shadows dancing over the sharp planes of his face as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head, pressing closer, his body heat radiating through me.
When he finally broke the kiss, just enough to let us breathe, his forehead rested against mine, breath mingling, eyes dark and unreadable, yet searching. “You’re… something else,” he whispered, almost hoarse, and I could only nod, heart hammering, pulse wild, knowing that nothing.
The air between us was thick, electric, heavy with heat and danger. Eddie’s hands slid from my shoulders down to my sides, fingers pressing firmly through the fabric of my clothes, mapping curves, testing boundaries. My own hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, craving the friction, the warmth, the pulse of him against me.
He kissed me again, slower this time, deep and demanding, lips moving with a dark insistence that made my knees threaten to buckle. His mouth trailed down my jaw, over my throat, and I shivered violently at the contact, every nerve ending alight. He hesitated for a heartbeat at the base of my neck, eyes dark, almost feral, before brushing his lips there in a soft, teasing press. I swallowed hard, chest rising and falling rapidly.
The trailer was filled with the sounds of ragged breathing, quiet gasps, each moment tethered to danger outside but utterly consumed by what was happening inside.
Finally, his lips ghosted down my collarbone, chest heaving, and he lifted his head slightly, eyes locked with mine. “You… you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, voice thick, almost pleading. And I knew exactly what I was doing.
The heat between us thickened until it was almost unbearable. Eddie’s hands roamed with a deliberate urgency, tracing along my sides, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I hesitated for a fraction, then let him, the tension between us too potent to resist. His dark eyes met mine, searching, daring me, and I felt the thrill of surrender.
Slowly, methodically, he helped peel my clothing back, brushing my skin with his fingers as he went, each touch electric. I shivered under him, hands tangling in his hair, feeling the press of his body through his own clothes. He leaned closer, lips never leaving mine for long, pressing kisses along my neck and jaw as he worked, every motion purposeful, intimate, teasing.
I matched his movements, tugging at his jacket, fingers brushing against the exposed skin beneath. The warmth radiating off him was intoxicating, mixing with the lingering tension of fear and adrenaline from the Upside Down. Every touch, every graze of skin against skin, made the space between us shrink, the world outside the trailer fading into irrelevance.
“Y/N…” he murmured, voice rough, low, almost a growl as he paused to meet my gaze. His hands hovered over me for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and I felt the weight of him, the pull, the unspoken promise in the dark gleam of his eyes. “Are you sure?”
warnings: this is 18+, mdni, reader and eddie are 18+, tons of flirting, eddie is snarky, reader is also snarky, they grew up together but are no longer close, talks of sex with other people, mentions of std's, eddie wants reader and reader wants him, kissing. 2.1k words
After middle school, you did not relate to Eddie anymore
It may have to do with how his style changed, his music interests leaning more towards the darker side, he started to grow his hair out, his attitude towards authority shifting. You just felt that your friendship would dissipate.
But Eddie would still say hi to you in the hallway, trying to get your attention.
After junior year, you two were virtually strangers.
So when senior year came around and you and your new friends made big plans for an End of Year Bash, you reluctantly invited Eddie at lunch.
“Well look what the cat dragged in… How are you sweetheart? Still listening to that Prince cassette I got you for your 13th birthday?”
You roll your eyes, extending an invitation out to him. “Me and my friends are throwing an end of year party. I was gonna invite you.”
“Was?”
You narrow your eyes at him, scanning him for any sign of a smirk. He was fucking with you and while you knew it, you wanted to see him break. “I think I’m gonna give your invite to Jeff or Gareth, because you’re annoying me.”
“Oh come on, where’s the silly snarky girl I once knew? I miss her.”
“She got tits and grew up. Are you gonna come or what?”
He gladly accepts the invitation, telling you that you better save him a dance.
You don’t even really think about Eddie again until you spot him in the middle of your friend’s living room, sticking out like a sore thumb. You swirl your jungle juice in your cup and down the rest before approaching him.
You were a bit tipsy, but not drunk. You lick your lips as you walk through the crowd, tapping Eddie on his shoulder.
“Thanks for coming.” You say, before he locks eyes with you. God, he did something different today, he looks… good.
“I don’t know what to do with myself.” He yells over the bumping music.
“Follow me, I’ll get you a drink.”
You get him a drink and have him come outside to smoke with you. You had picked up a bad habit, and luckily he had the same one. When you light up the cigarette, he matches your motions.
The moonlight adds a cast over his features that sends you spiraling into the thoughts of possibly finding him attractive. When you were kids, you always thought he was just baby cute. But now… he looks like a man.
His ripped jeans, his layed leather jacket and jean vest. He may have the rocker look, but his features are still soft. Especially his lips.
“You good?” He asks you, noticing your piercing gaze.
You sit back in the lawn chair, pulling your cigarette out of your mouth. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m good. Just a bit tipsy.”
“You are still not good at lying. Never were.”
You throw your head back, giggling, “Shut up, Munson. You don’t know me.”
He throws his hands up in mock surrender, “You still talk with that high pitched voice, especially when you lie. Your eyebrows also do this thing-”
“My eyebrows do not do a thing.” You say as your eyebrows do a thing.
“They are doing it now.”
You roll your eyes, giggling to yourself. You how he’s right, but you can’t admit it to him, especially when he’s looking at you with such intention.
“You look good, dollface. Popularity didn’t change you too much.”
You smirk up at him, not taking much offense to the statement. “Being a huge nerd changed you, though.”
He chuckles, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Is it the long hair or?”
You point to his free hand,“The tattoos. And all those rings.”
“What you don’t like?” He flicks some hair off his forehead, which for some reason makes you stare more.
You smirk, shaking your head and finally coming back to reality, “You’re a dork.”
“You used to be, too.”
You chew on your cheek, flicking some ash. You shift your ass on the chair to face him fully. He’s looking at you with a questionable expression, like he’s trying to read your mind.
You hear someone starting to open the back door and you see a couple of your girlfriends drunkenly stumbling out. You call after them, making sure they are good. The one, Marissa, notes you and Eddie sitting together.
“Ooo, you got the hots for the Freak?”
You want to die in that moment. You had told them all plenty of times of your childhood with Eddie and how much he had changed since you knew him. You never said it as a particularly bad thing, but your friends thought he was too strange for comfort.
You glance over at Eddie, wondering if you should respond or just act like you did not hear them. But he’s watching you carefully, indicating that he needed you to answer her.
You clear your throat, “Eddie is just a friend, remember?”
“I saw you through the door. You were staring at him like you wanted to suck his di-”
You do not dare let her finish, screaming, “Marissa!”
She giggles as she walks towards the firepit with the other girls, leaving you and Eddie alone again. You want to just flip your chair off the edge of the deck, but you resist the urge.
Eddie stares into the side of your face, practically burning a hole into your cheek.
“You were staring at me like you wanted-”
“I’ll kill you with my bare hands if you finish that sentence.”
Somehow, you end up spending the entire night talking with Eddie outside. You catch up about life, what new music you are into, and how you are excited to be working at a clothing store in downtown Hawkins.
The night ends with you walking Eddie to his van and wishing him a goodnight.
Eddie opens up his door, the edge resting on the hinge of his arm,“So I’ll see you around, I guess.”
“Yeah, we should… hangout sometime.”
“Yeah, we should. Are you busy this weekend?”
You think for a beat, “I work til 8 tomorrow and Sunday. Maybe we could-”
He doesn’t let you finish, shaking his curls and grinning, “I’ll come see ya tomorrow. Maybe we can grab a late night dinner at Hank’s. That’s nearby right?”
“Right next door.”
“Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
He gets to your work the next day at 7:30. It was odd seeing the guy who scares half of the females in your school in the middle of a women’s clothing store, but you knew he was harmless. You give him a smile, nodding your approval that he actually came through.
“Well, well, well… Welcome to Patricia’s Boutique, can I help you find something, sir?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for this hot chick who works here.”
“No hot chicks here. Just me.”
“I guess you’ll do, then,” He teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
You could not help but blush at his stupidity. You advise him that you have to do some last minute cleaning and you’ll lock up so you can fill your stomach with a milkshake and burger next door.
He’s patient, leaning against some displays and chatting to you about how the work day was. You get a good look at him when he’s inspecting some earrings you have on display.
His lips. God, his lips.
Before he catches you staring, you act as you are mopping the same place you already did for the millionth time.
Once you clean up, you turn off the lights and lock the doors. You walk with Eddie right next door, occupying a booth right next to the vast windows of the diner. The older waitress jots down your orders and you both settle into easy conversation as the cook whips up your burger and Eddie’s cheesesteak.
“So I heard you were dating Kenny Lopez at the beginning of the school year. From the way he was just… not at your side at that party, I’m assuming you two aren’t a thing anymore?”
You wiggle your nose, rolling your eyes at the thought of your ex. “He was too immature. He was also a bit too religious for my liking. Said that if we had sex or anything I would have to repent. Which is insane because I found out later that he was cheating on with other girls and having sex with them.”
“Woah, woah, woah-”
You cut him off, giggling a bit as you sip your soda,“Yeah, I know.”
He abruptly speaks up, “Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Have sex?”
You cock your head to the side, letting out a quiet scoff.
“No. We didn’t.”
He lets out a random sigh of relief, “Good. I heard he gave Janet Huggins chlamydia.”
“Jesus, Eds.”
He throws his hands up in surrender, a cute smile plastered across his face,“What?! Just cause I’m a loser doesn’t mean I don’t hear the rumors about people.”
You quirk your brow, playing with your straw. You were morbidly curious about your own status on the food chain, “Any about me?”
“Some.”
“Like what?”
He stops, licking his lips painstakingly slow. He has to know what he’s doing to you, “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
Your food comes as soon as you approve to hear the dish on yourself. You grab a fry from your plate, obnoxiously smacking.
“Well?”
He matches your annoying chewing, “Some are just… statements about you-”
“Like?”
“You have great tits.”
“Eddie!”
“Hey- we all have eyes here.”
“Okay, ew,” You chew another fry, “What else, though?”
“Last year I heard you smoked pot with Kendra Traverse under the bleachers.”
You shake your head immediately, “Never happened.”
“Damn, I was hoping that one was true.”
“What else?”
He takes a bite of his meal, trying not to enjoy the sight of you eagerly asking about what people say about you. “I heard your a great kisser. Amongst… other things.”
“This is all locker room talk. I want something juicy.”
“You’re really setting yourself up for a joke there-”
“Shut up.”
He giggles. Like really giggles. It’s a sound you vividly remember listening to growing up. You can sometimes still hear it in your dreams.
“Other than what I’ve told you, I just heard whenever you were possibly dating someone.”
“Ah,” You half smirk, wiping your mouth with a nearby napkin, “Well… those things never last that long.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because no guys around here are really worth a damn. I wasted a whole school year on a stupid guy when I could’ve just been having fun.”
“No guys, huh?”
You roll your eyes at his question, “Don’t say ‘well I’m worth a damn’. We already know that.”
“So I am the exception?”
“For now. Until you piss me off, somehow.”
“So I have…” He looks at his watch jokingly, “T-minus 10 minutes to be an exception.”
God, he was so quick it gave you goosebumps.
You two sit in that booth for two hours, laughing and carrying on. Eventually you tell him you have to go home before your parents assume you got kidnapped. He laughs and jokes that they will be reassured to know you were with your childhood best friend and not some stranger.
"You should come by and see them. They would love to hear how you’re doing.”
He scoffs, shaking his head, “Your parents only put up with me because I was always around.”
“My mom found you cute,” You reply, walking side by side with him to your car, “She used to tell me I should date you.”
He grows silent for a moment and clears his throat, “Wise woman.”
You turn to him, folding your arms over your chest. There was a twinkle in his eye that you had seen a couple times in the last two days. Something hopeful.
“Is that not what you’re doing right now? Taking me on a date?” You say, your heart practically beating out of your chest.
He cocks his head at you curiously before connecting the dots. Your smile practically takes up your entire face, watching the cogs turn in his brain. You stop in front of your car, waiting for a response.
"So…” He looks over at your car, raising his eyebrows, “Is this the point in the date where I get to kiss you?”
You feel dizzy just thinking about it. “Is that how you end your dates?”
He shakes his head, taking two steps towards you. His arms wrap around your waist, making you drop your arms over his biceps.
“What dates? The only girl I’ve ever had eyes for was you.”
You swallow, looking up at those big brown doe eyes, “Well, how would you like to end this date, with me?”
And he kisses you. He does it without a single ounce of hesitation. He’s soft but still eager, his perfectly plump lips slotting between yours. Your arms wrap around his neck and for once, in all the years you’ve tried forgetting about Eddie, you realize he’s all you’ll ever want and need.
warnings: mdni! 18+ only, porn without plot, it's literally just smut, eddie is toxic, arguing about anything and everything, spitting, unprotected sex, no foreplay, aggressive dirty talk, dom!reader and dom!eddie at the same time(?), no aftercare. 1.1k words
Eddie’s the type of boyfriend who would try to grab at you when you’re still pissed at him. You had been livid for hours and each minute that passed, his mere presence infuriated you further.
You are standing in the kitchen, waving your hands and fussing about the millions of things he was supposed to do today and didn’t.
You are just fucking raging at this point. And all he’s doing pulling you towards him, hands working around the hem of your clothes. You are trying to push him away, begging him to just listen.
But Eddie has always had a one track mind.
The moment his exploratory fingers grace the slight raise of your nipples, you slap his arm.
There’s a way to get pent up aggression out, and that’s what Eddie’s trying to hint at. you can resolve the issue later since there’s no real rationalizing with you when you’re this heated.
You push your hands over your forehead, “Jesus, Eddie, you’re so fucking frustrating!”
He grabs your belt loops, pulling you closer. You practically trip into him. His voice is deep and teasing, “You wanna fuck about it, I know you do.”
You shake your head, pushing him off of you and storming to the bedroom. You wait in the room, arms crossed, waiting for him to bust in there like he usually did when you walk away from an argument.
It's always like he was right. You do want to fuck about it.
But on your terms.
He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you pouting, hip jutted, arms pushing up your boobs in your tank top.
“Take your fucking pants off,” you demand, voice stern and unwavering.
He smirks, knowing there’s no way you’re directing him around, “Mhm, as long as I get a good look at you-”
“I cannot stand you,” You yank your pants down in unison with him, matching his haphazard stripping method. Pants and underwear first, shirt next and swiftly, “you're such an asshole.”
He has no time to lick his wounds. Your words do hurt, but they fuel another fire within him.
He grabs onto your arms, trying to direct you to bend over the bed. Face down.
“Yeah? What else?”
You lock your legs before you can fall into the unmade bed. You flutter your lashes incredulously. How dare he think he is running the show here? You’re still fucking mad.
“Nope, I’m facing you.” you press yourself against his nude chest, “not getting on my stomach.”
Eddie tenses, his anger flaring a bit because you just won't listen. “Why?”
“Cause I'm not done arguing with you.”
You drop onto the ruffled top sheet, all splayed out for him. You widen your legs, not leaving anything to the imagination. You scrunch your eyebrows as Eddie pumps himself a couple times before submitting and drops his knee on the bed between your knees.
“You gonna take this cock? hm?” He shifts his hips over you, draping himself over your curves. He drags his cock between your already slick folds.
You may be pissed at him, but it doesn't take much time of looking at Eddie's nude body for you to get absolutely soaked.
“Just do something, for fucks sake-" You look between your legs as Eddie tilts his cock down and presses his hips forward, "Eddie oh my god.”
He fucking smirks as he snaps his hips again, the slapping of skin adding fuel to your fire, “Yeah, sweetheart, all bark, no bite.”
He's above you, hair falling over his shoulders like a curtain. The fire you felt before only tangles up into the desire for him, “Fuck you. can’t fucking stand you. just shut up-“
He thrusts forward harder, halting abruptly just to cut you off, “Or what?”
You gape at him, appalled by his boldness. You latch onto the thought of grabbing his face, so you do. You move quickly to pull his cheeks together with your thumb and other fingers. His mouth forms into a small 'o' as you pull him closer to your face. His hips don't stop moving the entire time, his cock dragging deeper and deeper into you.
When his spit makes contact with your lips, you curl your fingers into the flesh of his cheeks, “Did you just fucking spit on me?”
You release him, practically pushing him off you. But his hands are locked onto your hips, his fingers latched onto your skin. Cock still dragging inside you.
“You wanted missionary, baby.”
He sits back on his knees, fucking into you harder. You cannot help but whimper your jibe, “So you can look at the disdain on my face.”
That smirk returns. The pleasure in your tummy starts to build up as his pelvis shifts against you. “Looks like pleasure to me, darling.”
“Faster,” You look down at when your bodies connect. You need him to pick up the pace if you're going to cum. You needed that release if he was going to put you through this. You move your hand down to swipe at your sensitive clit, “Now.”
“How about harder? You want me to-“
You slap his shoulder with your free hand before your nails dig into him, “Shut up an fuckin’ do it!”
He just chuckles darkly, "You really do wanna fight, huh?"
The glisten from your own wetness coats Eddie's cock and it's painfully delicious to look at. You almost want to push him off you and suck it off. But that's almost too much of a reward for him. And he didn't deserve that.
Now that you think about it, him finishing inside you is something he didn't deserve.
You add two more fingers over your sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles so you could squeeze the shit out of him and soak his pelvis as you finish.
"Yeah, that's it, baby. Play with yourself while I fuck this cunt of yours," Eddie interjects through clenched teeth.
The white hot pleasure comes in no time at all after his filthy mouth eggs you on. Before Eddie can throw his head back and revel in the feeling, you leverage your foot onto his chest and push him completely out of you.
Your body falls limp as he completely loses sensation around his cock and he cums at the same time his back slams into the dresser across from the bed. The ropes of white stain the dirty clothes pile he left at the center of the room. All his work clothes.
You cannot help but laugh, watching his face contort in confusion and irritation.
"What the fuck babe-"
"Looks like you really need to do some laundry now, huh?"
When he looks down at the mountain of clothes he tripped over, his jaw ticks. "I hate it when you play dirty."
"I hate when you don't do what I ask," You remind him, standing up in all your lustrous glory. You slip out of bed, grabbing your folded robe nearby. You wrap it around your body while he stands there, still flabbergasted, "Washer is open, go ahead and throw those in."
To Hell And Back - Vampire Eddie X Reader Part Four
PART ONE LINK:
PART TWO LINK:
PART THREE LINK:
"If you wanna save her, you're gonna have to trust a dead guy."
Season 5 spoilers:
Y/N was never meant to enter the Upside Down but when Holly Wheeler is dragged into it by a monster, she follows without hesitation. Now she's trapped in a rotting reflection of Hawkins… and the only one who can help her is a boy who should be dead.
Eddie Munson isn't human anymore. And Holly is running out of time.
Word Count: 4399
Stranger Things fanfiction | Dark Eddie | Angst | Horror | AU
----------------------
Holly was sinking.
Not falling — sinking, like the world itself was swallowing her whole.
Her tiny fingers slipped through mine again and again, no matter how tightly I tried to hold on. The floor beneath us was soft and alive, pulsing like a slow heartbeat, and everywhere around us the walls stretched and warped like they were breathing. I dragged her toward the light tearing open in the distance, my throat burning as I called her name over and over, but the sound came out wrong here — thin, broken, barely real.
“Holly!” I screamed, my voice breaking into nothing.
She cried out for me, her small body jerking violently as something unseen yanked her backward. The light behind her flared red and sickeningly bright, painting her face in shadows that didn’t belong on a child. Veins spread across the walls like black lightning, crawling closer to her feet with every second.
“I’m trying,” I sobbed, my nails digging into her skin. “I’ve got you — I’ve got you!”
But I didn’t.
Her tiny hand tore free.
She was ripped from my grasp and dragged screaming into the tearing dark, her voice echoing around me, not fading — multiplying. Coming from everywhere. From nowhere. The world collapsed inward as the gate sealed shut, flesh knitting itself closed where she had been.
And then she was gone.
I stumbled forward into emptiness, choking on my own breath, my chest tearing itself apart as I screamed her name into a world that no longer answered me.
I woke up gasping.
My body lurched violently against the thin mattress, my heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to escape.Bile burnt my throat as hands clawed at the sheets, my fingers curling into fabric that wasn’t flesh, wasn’t bone, wasn’t Holly.
The scream strangled itself in my throat and dissolved into a sharp, panicked breath instead.
The trailer ceiling swam into focus above me, warped and too close, lit faintly by the cold glow seeping through the window.
It was Eddie’s room. And Holly was still gone.
The door flew open.
It slammed against the wall hard enough to make me flinch, my breath hitching violently as a shadow filled the doorway. For half a second, terror seized my chest all over again — that split second where my brain couldn’t tell nightmare from reality.
Then I saw him.
Eddie stood in the doorway like he’d been dragged out of hell itself, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes wide and wild. The faint blue glow from outside caught the edges of his face, and I realized with a jolt that the veins along his temples and beneath his eyes were darker than they’d been before — not blue, not purple, but almost black, threading faintly across pale skin like cracks in glass.
“Y/N.” My name left his mouth raw and urgent. Not joking. Not teasing. Real. “Are you hurt?”
I pushed myself up on shaking arms, my head still swimming, my throat tight. “I— I was dreaming,” I whispered, the words sounding small even to my own ears. “I thought… I thought I lost her again.”
He crossed the room in three long strides and dropped down in front of me like his knees had finally given out under the weight he carried. His hands hovered near my legs, unsure whether he was allowed to touch, like he was afraid I might break if he did.
“You were screaming,” he muttered. “Look your here, none of that was real.”
I dragged a hand down my face, my skin slick with cold sweat. “It felt real,” I said brokenly. “Like it was happening over again and I couldn’t— I couldn’t stop it.”
His jaw clenched, something sharp and wounded flickering in his eyes. I watched the dark veins pulse faintly under his skin, shadowing movements that didn’t belong to him before. Whatever the demobats had done… it hadn’t let him go. It had stayed.
“You’re here,” Eddie said quietly. “You’re not in that house anymore. Holly is going to be saved. You’re breathing. I can hear it.” I tried to anchor myself to his voice, dragging air into my lungs in uneven pulls.
“I thought you were gone too,” I whispered. “In my dream, everyone was gone.”
Eddie’s face twisted like that hit deeper than anything else. He hesitated, before placing both of his hands on either side of my face
“I’m right here,” he said immediately. “Feel that, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not on you.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then I swallowed. “Your eyes…”
He froze.
“Do they look bad?” he asked softly.
“Not bad,” I said, even though my chest felt tight looking at him like this. “Just… different. Darker.”
He exhaled slowly and rubbed beneath one eye with the heel of his hand like he might wipe it away. “It happens when I get too worked up,” he admitted. “Adrenaline or… whatever passes for it now. It’s like my body flips a switch.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
“Hey.” His voice gentled instantly. “None of this is your fault.”
Silence settled again, thin but real.
Then, quietly, “Do you want me to stay?”
I nodded without hesitation, not trusting my voice.
Without another word, Eddie shifted down to sit against the bedframe, close enough that I could see him breathe, like he was guarding the last thing in the world that mattered. The dark veins slowly faded from his skin as his breathing stilled, but his eyes never left mine.
I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, listening to the faint creaks of the trailer settling around us like a ship at sea. My heart had slowed, but my mind hadn’t. The question had been sitting in my throat since the moment I’d seen him again — heavy and rotting and impossible to ignore.
“Eddie?” I whispered into the dark.
He shifted slightly where he sat on the floor beside the bed. “Yeah, Prom Queen?”
I swallowed. “Did you… did you really do it?”
The silence that followed wasn’t sharp. It was heavy. Like I’d placed something fragile between us and neither of us knew how to move without breaking it.
Eddie tilted his head back against the mattress and let out a slow breath through his nose. When he spoke, his voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “Wow. Okay. Cool. Didn’t take long for you to ask.”
My chest twisted. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”
“I’m messing with you,” he said quickly, glancing up at me. “Mostly.”
Then he sobered.
“No,” he said simply. “I didn’t kill Chrissy Cunningham.”
My eyes burned. “I didn’t want to believe it. I just— everyone in Hawkins—”
“Yeah. I know.” His mouth twitched, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They turned me into the town’s favorite bedtime story real fast. Satanic cult leader. Witchcraft. Human sacrifices. All the good hits.” He shook his head. “Real flattering stuff, honestly. Makes selling drugs look downright wholesome.”
I let out a weak, shaky breath that almost passed for a laugh.
“What happened?” I asked.
Eddie inhaled and stared at the floor like it might answer for him. “She came by my trailer after the game like we planned. She was scared. Really scared. Worse than before.” His jaw tightened. “I gave her something to calm her nerves. Never anything heavy. Never something dangerous. And then…” He swallowed. “Then the lights started freaking out. And she did too. Like she was seeing something I wasn’t.”
My hands clenched in the blanket.
“She lifted off the floor,” he whispered. “Not metaphorically. Not drugs. Not a bad reaction. She floated. And I couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t do anything but watch.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“And then,” he said quietly, “she broke. Right in front of me. And I didn’t even get to touch her. Didn’t even get to help.”
The room felt colder.
When he looked up at me again, his expression was raw in a way that stripped all the bravado away. “So no. I didn’t kill her. But I sure as hell had to swallow the horror of seeing it.”
My throat ached.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked like that.”
Eddie blinked and then scoffed softly. “Nah. You absolutely should’ve.” He glanced at me sideways, a familiar grin flickering back to life despite everything. “I mean, come on. You’ve known me since I was eating mulch and claiming I’d be a rock god by age twelve. If I were a murderer, I would’ve been way more dramatic about it.”
Despite myself, a tiny laugh escaped.
“Still,” he continued, smirking faintly, “I can’t believe you’d even consider it. Me? A psychopathic ritual killer?” He gestured at himself. “Look at me. I can barely commit to a haircut.”
I rolled my eyes weakly. “You did wear leather in a town allergic to difference.”
“And you danced with pom-poms and perfect hair in front of the entire student body.” He shot back. “If anyone was going to snap and go full slasher, my money was on you.”
I snorted before I could stop myself.
Then quieter, softer, “I never stopped being me, you know,” I said.
His expression shifted instantly.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore.
It was safe.
And for the first time since Hawkins burned his name into the shape of a monster…
I saw Eddie Munson for exactly who he’d always been.
The quiet stretched again, not uncomfortable — just full. The kind that presses on your ribs until your heart spills out something you didn’t plan on saying.
Eddie shifted, fingers drumming once against his knee before stopping. His jaw worked like he was chewing on words that tasted wrong. Then he cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in a crack in the floorboard.
“…I used to watch you at practice.”
I blinked. “What?”
He winced immediately. “God, okay, that sounded horrific. Let me rephrase before you call the undead police.”
A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. “Eddie—”
“I mean cheer practice,” he rushed. “From the bleachers. Or the hallway. Or accidentally on purpose when Hellfire let out early and I had no reason to be near the gym whatsoever.”
I stared at him, heat flooding my face. “You… watched me?”
He finally looked at me, face flushed, eyes bright in that strange Upside Down glow. “Not in a creepy way,” he insisted. “In a really stupid, painfully fourteen-year-old-boy way. You know. Quiet. From a distance. With absolutely zero game.”
I laughed under my breath. “You could’ve just talked to me.”
He barked out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, because the cheer captain and the town metal freak had so much in common.”
I softened. “We knew each other before. You weren’t just some guy in a jacket.”
He swallowed.
“I didn’t think you remembered me at all,” he admitted. “And every year it felt like you got further away. Different friends. Different world.” He shrugged lightly, like he could toss aside the weight of it. “So I just… kept you the way you were in my head. Maple Park you. Purple backpack. Scraped knees. Laughing so loud the boys wanted to be quieter.”
My chest ached.
“So sometimes,” he continued quietly, “I’d just sit there and think… great. She’s real. She didn’t disappear after all.”
I didn’t trust my voice.
“You were never invisible to me,” I said instead.
Eddie let out a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh trying not to break.
“Well,” he murmured, “guess that just makes me the world’s deadliest cheer fan.”
I reached forward before I even thought about it and nudged his arm.
“For the record,” I said, “I would’ve sat with you.”
He blinked at me.
Then smiled — slow and real and entirely Eddie Munson.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I think… I would’ve liked that.”
I hesitated, then glanced toward the small table near the wall — the one cluttered with candles melted down into warped little towers, scraps of wire, and the familiar shapes I’d tried not to stare at earlier.
“Eddie… I saw the pieces,” I said quietly. “In the hallway. The D&D ones.”
His shoulders tensed instantly.
“You weren’t snooping, were you?” he asked lightly, but the joke didn’t land. His eyes flicked away.
I shook my head. “No. I just… noticed them.”
For a second, he didn’t speak. He scratched at the back of his neck, jaw tightening like he wasn’t sure how much to say.
“I had to keep my hands busy,” he admitted finally. “Mind too.” He huffed under his breath. “If I didn’t, I’d start thinking. And in this place? That’s a real bad hobby.”
My gaze softened. “So you made a whole party.”
He nodded. “Every one from memory. Mike’s stupid little staff. Dustin’s hat. Lucas’ sling. I even carved Steve’s dumb hair into a knight once. Didn’t turn out great. Kept looking like a medieval pineapple.”
I smiled weakly. Then frowned. “You were… planning on seeing them again.”
He swallowed.
“I had a campaign ready,” he said. “Mapped it out in my head. Full arcs. Boss fights. Tragic near-deaths. Terrible accents.” He gave a faint shrug. “Told myself if I kept it ready, then… maybe that meant I would.”
There was something fragile in that confession, thin as glass.
“You really thought they’d come for you?” I asked gently.
Eddie shook his head slowly. “No. I thought I’d find them first.” His mouth twitched into a sad smile. “I figured if I ever got back… I’d walk up like nothing happened and go, ‘Gentlemen, Hellfire reconvenes tonight. No excuses. No dying.’”
My chest tightened.
“And if they weren’t there,” he added quietly, “at least I’d know I remembered them right.”
Silence folded itself around us.
“You didn’t forget them,” I whispered.
“Never,” he said immediately.
I hesitated… then said the thing that had stuck in my throat.
“You kept yourself alive for them.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
Then just as quietly:
“Yeah.”
Eddie glanced back at the table like she’d just pointed out something alive, then slowly looked back at me, one corner of his mouth lifting like he was trying to decide whether to joke or tell the truth.
I shifted on the edge of the bed, nerves buzzing under my skin. “If… if I was part of one of your campaigns,” I said, picking at a loose thread on the blanket, “what character would you make for me?”
He blinked once, like the question caught him off guard more than anything else I’d said all night. “For you?” he echoed, softer.
I nodded. “Yeah. If I was one of them. What would I be?”
He leaned back against the cluttered counter, crossing his arms, eyes narrowing slightly in that familiar way — like he was already building a world in his head. “First of all,” he said with a faint smirk, “you don’t get made. You’d roll your own fate. That’s kind of the whole point.”
I huffed quietly. “Okay, but hypothetically. If you were cheating.”
That earned a low laugh from him, the sound rough but real. “Alright. Hypothetically.”
He studied me like I was already a character sheet laid out in front of him. “You’d be something dangerous in a quiet way,” he said after a moment. “Not the loud, flashy hero. You’re the type that walks into a room and the mood changes without anyone knowing why.”
I swallowed. “That sounds… ominous.”
“It’s not,” he said quickly. “It’s powerful.”
He tapped his fingers against the counter like he was thinking. “Maybe a cleric,” he mused. “No. Too gentle. You’ve got more bite than that.” His mouth twitched. “A ranger. You survive when the map gives up. Or a warlock,” he added, glancing at me sideways. “You’ve got real ‘bad things are drawn to you for a reason’ energy.”
I frowned. “That is the opposite of comforting.”
“It’s a compliment,” he shot back. “Means destiny keeps tabs on you.”
I waited, my heart thudding way too loud in my chest.
“But honestly?” he said, quieter now. “I’d make you a multiclass. Someone who knows how to heal when it really counts… and still knows how to hurt things that deserve it.”
Warmth spread through my chest. “You make me sound cooler than I actually am.”
Eddie shook his head once. “No. I make you sound like you.”
I hesitated before asking the next thing. “…What about alignment? Am I evil in your little fantasy world?”
He didn’t even have to think. “Chaotic good,” he said immediately. “You don’t follow rules. You follow people. That’s different.”
The words sat heavy in the air between us.
Then he added, almost under his breath, “And you’d survive the campaign. No matter how messed up the world got… you’d still be there at the end.”
My chest tightened. “I don’t feel like someone who survives things.”
For once, he didn’t joke.
“That’s how you know you’re the hero.”
Eddie tilted his head, his grin sharpening as he stepped closer, the faint glow from the trailer casting shadows that made his sharp angles look almost predatory. “Y’know,” he said slowly, letting his fingers brush against the edge of the counter near me, “for someone who swears she’s never played, you’re asking a hell of a lot of dangerously specific questions.”
I blinked, a shiver running through me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He leaned in a fraction closer, letting his hand lightly touch my shoulder, just grazing me, enough to make me notice. “Alignment? Multiclassing? Cleric versus warlock?” His smirk widened. “Prom Queen, that is not the vocabulary of someone who’s just ‘seen it around.’”
I swallowed hard, my pulse spiking. “I— I’ve just… picked things up. From people. Observing.”
He laughed quietly, that low Eddie laugh that always set my stomach on edge. “Uh-huh. Sure. And I learned guitar from ‘observing.’”
My cheeks heated. “Maybe I paid attention.”
“Oh,” he murmured, letting his hand slide a little from my shoulder to my arm, light, teasing. “So the perfect, shiny, all-American cheerleader has a secret nerd streak? Hawkins is not emotionally prepared for that revelation.”
I shivered at the contact, and before I could stop myself, my hand found his, letting my fingers tangle with his. “I was not perfect,” I muttered, trying to sound nonchalant.
He tilted his head, eyes darkening with amusement. “You danced with pom-poms and dated guys who looked like toothpaste models. That’s social gold, baby. But clearly…” His thumb brushed the back of my hand slowly, deliberately, “you’ve got your own… hobbies.”
I let a soft laugh escape, leaning into the touch. “Maybe I did.”
“Maybe,” he echoed, closing the small distance between us so our arms brushed. “So you did watch us then? From the outside looking in?”
I nodded, fingers tightening around his. “Sometimes. I didn’t understand it all, but it sounded like a different world. One where bad things still happened… but you got to fight them. Together.”
His grin softened, thumb tracing tiny circles over my knuckles. “Damn,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Didn’t know I was running escapism 101 for Hawkins royalty.”
I let my hand squeeze his, leaning just slightly closer. “You are unbearable,” I whispered.
He leaned his forehead almost against mine, voice low and teasing, “And yet…” His lips brushed the shell of my ear, sending warmth down my spine, “…you know what multiclassing is. Somewhere in that cheerleader heart of yours… there’s a very tiny, very repressed dungeon dweller.”
I laughed softly, breath warm against him, my other hand resting lightly on his chest. “Don’t get used to it.”
His grin returned, more possessive this time, fingers lacing with mine. “Too late, Prom Queen. You’re already party material.”
The air between us hummed, the teasing laced with something heavier, warmer, and I didn’t pull away.
Then suddenly, a scream tore through the trailer, rattling the walls and making my stomach lurch. Then, over the creature’s shriek, other sounds rose: shouted commands, the clatter of boots, and the sharp, echoing cracks of gunfire. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Eddie’s eyes darkened, veins almost black around the edges, jaw tightening into a hard line. “Army supply drops,” he muttered, voice low, grim. “They keep sending stuff to the lab… operating out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the twisted, flickering landscape beyond the trailer walls. “In the Upside Down.”
I swallowed hard. “The army? They… go in there?”
“They do,” he said tersely, then his lips curved into a dark, almost feral smirk. “Lucky I didn’t get to them first.”
I froze, my pulse spiking. “Wait—what do you mean, didn’t get to them first?”
Eddie dropped my hand, leaving the room exiting out of his trailer with such pace. I leapt out of the bed and followed him out.
I scrambled out of the trailer after him, the door slamming behind me with a deafening crash that seemed to echo through the distorted landscape. The cold, heavy air of the Upside Down hit me instantly, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood and the oppressive, pulsing stench of decay. Eddie was already moving ahead, his steps swift and certain across the uneven, spongy ground, vines brushing against our legs like grasping fingers.
“Eddie! Wait!” I shouted, my voice cracking with panic. “What do you mean you didn’t get to them first? What the hell are you talking about?”
He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes dark, veins almost black around the edges. “I mean exactly what I said,” he muttered, but his pace didn’t slow. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Yes, I would! You’ve been dodging me this whole time!” I hissed, fumbling to keep up, my hands slick with the residual blood on my skin and the cold sweat that clung to my temples. “What did you do to them? Eddie, I need to know!”
He stopped abruptly, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me to face him. His gaze pierced mine, sharp and unyielding, and the flickering glow from the Upside Down made the shadows in his eyes dance unnaturally. “You want to know the truth?” he growled, low and dangerous. “Since the bats infected me… since they bit me, the only thing that keeps me moving, keeps me alive, is blood.”
I staggered back, shock hitting me harder than the alien chill around us. “Blood? You mean… like…”
“Yeah,” he cut in, his voice dropping further, almost a whisper meant to haunt. “The only thing that sustains me now… is blood. Mine, yours, anyone’s. That’s why I can get to places no one else can, why I can hear, smell, move like this.” His hand grazed mine, brushing over the warmth of my wrist, lingering just a fraction too long. The pressure was intimate, possessive, and it made my chest clench in a mix of fear and something else I couldn’t name.
He scoffed softly, the sound bitter, almost a laugh without any humor in it. “You just had to follow her,” he snapped, dropping his hand from my wrist like the contact burned. His face twisted with a frustration that looked far deeper than anger. “Out of all the stupid, brave, self‑destructive things you could’ve done… you picked that.”
I flinched. “I wasn’t going to let her go alone,” I shot back, my voice shaking. “She’s seven, Eddie. She’s scared and who knows what that creature wanted with her.”
“And now so are you,” he growled, running a hand through his hair, pacing a short, sharp line in the dirt like a caged animal. “And now you’re here. Bleeding. Human. Breakable.” His jaw clenched hard. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
I lifted my chin, forcing myself not to step back. “I’m not sorry for trying to save her.”
“I didn’t say you should be,” he fired back, eyes flashing. “I’m just saying now I’m stuck with you. Which means I don’t just have to get one kid out of this hellhole… I’ve got to protect you too.”
“Protect me?” I scoffed weakly. “You just told me you drink blood.”
“Exactly!” he shot back, voice cracking for just a second before he tried to crush it down. “You have any idea how messed up that is? That I’m trying not to think about the fact that your heart’s pounding in my ears right now like a countdown clock? That you smell like copper and fear and something that still feels alive and warm and—” He cut himself off sharply, breathing hard. As he shouts, its as if his canine teeth are longer than usual. Vampiric and cunning.
My throat tightened. “So you hate me for being here.”
He looked at me like I’d stabbed him. “No,” he said, quieter now. Raw. “I hate that you’re in danger because of me. I hate that this place will chew you up if I screw up even once. And I hate that I can’t afford to.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and humming.
“I didn’t ask you to be stuck with me,” I whispered. “But I’m not leaving Holly. And… I’m not leaving you either.”
Eddie looked away, jaw tight, shoulders rising and falling like he was barely holding something inside. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s kind of the problem.”
I shook my head, anger finally slicing through the fear in my chest. “I didn’t ask you to save me,” I snapped, my voice cracking louder than I meant it to. “I didn’t ask you to look after me, or protect me, or whatever you think you’re doing right now.”
Eddie turned back to me sharply, eyes flashing.
“And hell,” I went on, blinking hard, “up until twelve hours ago, I thought you were dead. Just like everyone else in Hawkins did. A body in the ground and a name people whispered like it was a curse. You don’t get to act like I dragged you into this when I didn’t even know you were still breathing.”
His mouth opened like he wanted to interrupt, but I didn’t let him.
“I came here for Holly. Not you. Not whatever you’ve turned into. I followed her because she needed me, not because I wanted some dark hero to keep me alive.”
The words spilled out before I could stop them, raw and shaking.
“So don’t stand there and tell me you’re ‘stuck’ with me like I ruined your life. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose monsters or gates or you coming back from the dead. I chose a little girl who was scared.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and bruising.Eddie stared like I’d just knocked the air out of him. The anger drained from his face, leaving something quieter behind it—something raw.
“You really thought I was gone,” he said, soft.
I swallowed. “Everyone did.”
The words were still hanging between us when it happened.
A sharp thwick cut through the air.
For a split second, I didn’t understand what I was looking at—just a thin wire-lined dart buried in Eddie’s shoulder, a flash of electricity cracking across his arm. He sucked in a breath that sounded wrong, staggered once toward me—
And then another bite of impact slammed into my side.
Pain exploded white-hot through my ribs. My legs buckled instantly, my nerves screaming like they’d been ripped inside out. A sound tore out of my throat that I didn’t recognize as my own as electricity flooded through me, violent and blinding.
Eddie dropped to his knees beside me, teeth clenched, a hoarse growl ripping from his chest as the current tore through him too. His eyes met mine for half a second—wide, furious, helpless—
“Run—” he tried to say.
But his body locked up. So did mine.
My fingers curled uselessly against the ground as everything seized at once, muscles convulsing, breath jerking in shallow, broken gasps. The world tilted and fractured, sound warping into a dull roar in my ears.
Boots crunched through the dead leaves.
Shapes loomed through my blurred vision, dark uniforms, raised rifles, faces hidden behind masks that meant nothing in this ruined place. Voices barked words I couldn’t understand over the ringing in my skull.
Eddie collapsed fully onto the ground beside me, his hand twitching once toward mine before going still.
I tried to reach him. I couldn’t move.
The last thing I felt was cold flooding my veins. Then everything went black.
A/N thIs is my fave chapter yet, yes i know this burn be going extraaa slow but just think about it, its only been a couple hours, be patient!
