Hell of a Summer
this is part two, click here for series masterlist
description: it's the summer leading into your senior year, and you decide to spend summer break with your best friend and roommate, violet munson. and of course, her dad. what starts as harmless flirting turns into something a little more...interesting.
pairing: dilf!eddie x reader (fem!reader)
tags: dilf!eddie, 21 y/o reader, no y/n, best friend's dad, age gap romance, eddie being jealous, girl dad eddie, eddie and violet are literally twins, single dad eddie, shameless flirting, metalhead x metalhead, emo/goth reader, domestic fluff (like fr), violet munson being an instigator, steve has a wife and daughter?, summer vibe
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!, age difference, mentions of toxic family dynamics
WC: 6.5k
A/N: AGH part two is finally here!!! sorry fics have been coming out slower than usual, between summer classes and work i've been BUSSYYYYY!! buuut, i'm so excited to hear what you guys think<3 reblogs are always appreciated :))
The annual start-of-summer lake day was apparently sacred in Hawkins. You discovered this at exactly eight-thirteen in the morning when a bikini top smacked you directly in the face. You jolted awake with a startled noise, immediately sitting upright as Violet stood in your doorway looking entirely too awake for a college student on summer break.
"Rise and shine."
You squinted at her through messy hair. "What time is it?"
"Lake day time."
"That's not a real time."
"It is in this house."
You groaned and flopped backward into the mattress. Unfortunately for you, Violet Munson had never been known for mercy. An hour later, you were sitting cross-legged on a kitchen stool nursing a cup of coffee while Violet packed enough snacks to survive a small apocalypse.
The house was quiet in Eddie's absence. He'd left for work before either of you woke up, disappearing sometime around six in the morning after leaving a note on the counter reminding Violet, "be there around four. please try not to drown anybody."
You'd stared at that note for far longer than necessary. Not because his handwriting was attractive, that would be ridiculous.
The front door opened dramatically, snapping you out of your lovestruck focus on Eddie’s chicken scratch. A blonde girl walked inside without knocking, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, and a set of car keys dangling from one finger.
"Please tell me somebody made coffee."
"Kitchen," Violet called.
The girl immediately rounded the corner before stopping when she saw you. For a second, she simply stared, then she looked at Violet. Then back at you.
"Huh."
"What?" Violet asked.
The girl pointed. "This is the roommate?"
"Yep."
"Huh."
"What does that mean?"
The girl shrugged. "Nothing. Just expected someone different."
She extended a hand toward you. "Harper Harrington."
You shook it. "The Harrington?"
She sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately."
The rest of the group filtered in over the next half hour, the same way Harper had; no knocking, no warning, just casually wandering into the Munson house like they owned part of it. By the time everyone finally piled into their respective cars, you'd met enough people to completely lose track of who belonged to who.
Apparently, that was another Hawkins thing. Everybody's parents knew everybody else's parents, everyone had grown up together, and somehow half the town seemed related through friendship if not blood. It was oddly comforting in a way you weren't used to, a kind of community that only seemed possible in places where people stayed.
The lake itself ended up being far prettier than you'd expected. Hawkins might've been small, but the water stretched wide beneath the summer sun, sparkling between the trees while boats drifted lazily across the surface.
The group immediately claimed a familiar patch of shoreline, unloading coolers and folding chairs with the efficiency of people who'd been doing this every summer since birth.
Before you'd even finished laying your towel out, somebody had already started music, somebody else had started a volleyball game, and Harper was loudly accusing one of the others of cheating at something.
Hours slipped by surprisingly fast after that. You swam, floated on your back in the lake, got dragged into a game of beach volleyball despite repeatedly insisting you sucked at sports, and somehow ended up sharing a giant bag of chips with Harper while she filled you in on years of Hawkins gossip.
By mid-afternoon, your skin was warm from the sun, your hair was damp from swimming, and for the first time since arriving in Indiana, you weren't really thinking about anything at all. Well, almost anything.
"Your eyes keep going to the parking lot."
You looked over at Harper. "What?"
She smirked. "Nothing."
Immediately suspicious, you narrowed your eyes. "Harper."
Before she could answer, a familiar roar of an engine echoed through the trees. And suddenly, half the group perked up. "Oh, they're here."
You turned instinctively toward the parking area, a big mistake. Huge mistake, actually. Because there, climbing out of the old van with a cooler balanced against one hip, was Eddie.
For a second, your brain didn't quite process what it was seeing. Then it did, and unfortunately, that made things significantly worse. Gone was the grease-stained work shirt you'd seen him leave in every morning.
Instead, he'd changed into a pair of faded black swim trunks hanging low on his hips and absolutely nothing else. His curls had been pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, exposing the tattoos crawling across his shoulders and chest, and the late afternoon sunlight caught against every silver ring still decorating his fingers.
Sweet fucking Jesus. You suddenly understood every poor decision women had ever made throughout history.
"Wow." The word escaped before you could stop it.
Harper followed your line of sight, then she looked at you, then back at Eddie. Then at you again. "Oh."
Your stomach dropped. "Oh no."
"Oh," Harper repeated, sounding somewhere between inquiry and suspicion.
Across the beach, Steve appeared from the passenger side, carrying enough bags to feed a football team. Beside him was a woman with dark hair and oversized sunglasses, effortlessly beautiful in the way that made you immediately understand why Steve Harrington had spent years getting himself into trouble.
"That's my mom," Harper informed you.
"She's gorgeous."
"I know. It's annoying."
Steve immediately spotted the group and lifted a hand. "Alright, move. Important people are here."
"Nobody asked you to come!" one of the kids yelled back.
Steve looked genuinely offended. "That's a terrible thing to say to the guy carrying burgers."
The entire group immediately changed sides.
"Welcome, Steve."
"Great to see you, Steve."
"We love you, Steve."
His wife snorted. "You people are shameless."
Meanwhile, you were doing your absolute best not to stare at Eddie. Unfortunately, Eddie wasn't making that particularly easy.
He'd abandoned the cooler near the picnic tables and was helping Steve unload supplies, muscles flexing every time he lifted something. The man wasn't even showing off. He looked completely unaware of the fact that he was walking around looking like every romance novel cover come to life.
Or maybe he was aware, because halfway through carrying a folding table, he glanced up. And immediately caught you staring. Fuck.
His eyebrows lifted, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Then, the bastard winked. You nearly swallowed your own tongue.
You snapped your head back to the lake, Harper immediately tilting her head. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you replied on impulse. She hummed in response, but it didn’t quite sound convinced.
Before you could formulate a solid response to her lack of one, Eddie finally started walking toward the group. The closer he got, the worse the situation became.
Up close, you could see the faint tan lines across his shoulders, the tattoos wrapping around his arms, the way a few escaped curls had fallen loose around his face despite the bun. It should've been illegal for a forty-year-old father to look like that.
Thirty-nine. Not that you knew that, or thought about it. Or remembered constantly.
"Hey, sweetheart." His voice alone was enough to make your stomach flip.
You looked up and immediately regretted it. Because now he was standing directly in front of you, still shirtless, still damp from whatever shower he'd apparently taken after work, and still looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Hey."
Eddie's eyes drifted over you slowly, taking in your swimsuit, your sun-kissed skin, and your damp hair. The look lingered just long enough to make heat crawl up your neck before he finally grinned.
"Looks like you're surviving Hawkins."
"Barely."
"Mhm."
Eventually, Steve decided he'd had enough of everyone picking at chips and snacks.
"Alright, listen up!" he shouted from beside the grills. "Food's done, and if you little gremlins don't come eat now, I'm not reheating anything later."
A chorus of complaints immediately followed.
"We're literally walking over!"
"Relax, dad!"
"You're not my dad!"
Steve pointed a spatula threateningly. "I could've been."
His wife rolled her eyes from where she was arranging burger toppings. "Ignore him. Everybody grab a plate."
The entire group migrated toward the picnic tables in a noisy mass of towels, sunscreen, half-finished conversations, and dripping lake water. Harper immediately stole a burger before Steve could finish serving everyone, earning a dramatic gasp from her father that she completely ignored.
You found yourself settling onto the end of one of the benches while everyone else naturally fell into conversations that had clearly been going on for years.
Maya and the twins were arguing about something that happened last summer. Harper was making fun of a guy she'd apparently gone to school with. Logan was telling some story that required absolutely zero context for everybody except you.
You smiled when appropriate and laughed when everyone else laughed. But after a while, you started feeling it, that subtle little distance.
Nobody was being unkind. Quite the opposite, actually. Everyone had gone out of their way to include you throughout the day. But there was still a difference between being welcomed into a group and having years of inside jokes and memories with them.
You were still catching up. Still learning names, stories, histories...still the new person.
For a moment, your thoughts drifted back home. To being the odd one out at family dinners. To sitting quietly while everyone else talked around you. To feeling like there wasn't really a place carved out for you anywhere, so you picked at your food.
The feeling only lasted a minute, maybe less. Because suddenly a shadow fell across the table, then Eddie slid onto the bench beside you.
"Hey."
You glanced over. "Hey."
He balanced a paper plate on one knee and took a bite of his burger before speaking again.
"You look like you're plotting something."
You snorted. "I promise I'm not."
"Mhm."
"What?"
Eddie tilted his head slightly. "You got quiet."
"I'm okay."
"I know."
His voice was soft enough that nobody else would've heard it over the surrounding conversations.
Then he nodded toward the group, "They can be a lot."
You laughed quietly. "That's one way to put it."
"Trust me, sweetheart. I've known most of these idiots since before they could drive."
"Feels like everybody here has known each other forever."
"Pretty much."
Eddie picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Harper was born when Vi was little. Maya's parents live three streets over. Logan practically grew up at my garage. Steve's wife still makes fun of me for a haircut I got in nineteen ninety-three."
You laughed. "What was wrong with the haircut?"
"Oh, it was terrible."
"Really?"
"It was magnificent."
"Those are two different answers."
"Both can be true." His shoulder bumped yours lightly, and you couldn't help smiling.
The conversations around you continued, but somehow they felt less overwhelming now. Maybe because Eddie wasn't trying to force you into them. He wasn't doing the awkward introduction thing or drawing attention to the fact that you were newer than everyone else.
"You know," he said after a minute, looking out toward the water, "when I first moved into Wayne's, I barely spoke for an entire summer."
You blinked. "You?"
"Hard to believe, I know."
"Impossible, actually."
Eddie grinned. "Seriously. I was awkward as hell."
"No way."
"Way."
You studied him skeptically. Just before this, the man had an entire picnic table laughing at half of what he said. "You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You expect me to believe you were shy?"
His grin softened slightly. "Not shy."
He looked down at his beer. "Just didn't think people wanted me around."
The admission surprised you enough that you didn't answer right away. Because for a second, you caught a glimpse of something underneath all the confidence and sarcasm; something younger.
Eddie glanced over and immediately noticed your expression. "Hey."
"Hm?"
"Don't get all sad on me."
You laughed. "I'm not sad."
"Good."
Then he reached over and stole one of your fries, again.
"Hey!"
"Occupational hazard. Gotta make sure it’s not poison."
"That's not what that means."
"It does if I say it does."
The Hideout was somehow even more charming now than it had been in all the stories Violet told. Maybe it was the nostalgia baked into the place. The old wooden bar, the dim lighting, the neon beer signs buzzing softly against the walls.
Maybe it was because half the people inside seemed to know Eddie by name. Or maybe it was because every few minutes someone would stop by your table to greet either Steve, Eddie, or both, and you'd get to watch them slip so naturally into the lives they'd built here.
You, Harper, and Violet had claimed a booth near the back while Steve and Eddie wandered over toward the dart boards with beers in hand. A local band was setting up in the corner, tuning guitars and testing microphones while conversations drifted through the crowded room.
Meanwhile, across the room, Steve lined up a shot at the dart board while Eddie leaned against the wall beside him. The dart landed with a satisfying thunk.
"Ha."
"Congratulations," Eddie deadpanned. "You're winning against a mechanic."
Steve ignored him. For a minute, they stood there in comfortable silence, watching the girls at the booth. Harper was talking animatedly about something while Violet argued with her. You sat between them, laughing at whatever ridiculous story was being told.
Then Steve glanced sideways. "So."
Eddie sighed immediately. "No."
"I didn't even say anything."
"You were about to."
Steve threw another dart. "You gonna tell me what's going on there?"
Eddie looked offended. "Nothing's going on."
"Bullshit."
"Steve."
"Eddie."
The older man took a sip of his beer, and Steve pointed subtly toward your booth.
"You talked to her almost the entire barbecue."
"We were talking."
"You were talking."
"That's what I said."
Steve stared, and Eddie stared back. Neither moved, then finally Steve sighed.
"I feel like I'm watching a train derail in slow motion."
"Jesus Christ."
"Eddie."
"What?"
"That's your daughter's best friend."
"I know who she is."
Steve rubbed his face. "I liked you better when your bad decisions only affected you."
Eddie barked out a laugh despite himself. "Nothing's happening."
Steve looked like he wanted to believe him, then his expression changed when his eyes drifted toward the bar. Eddie followed his gaze and immediately wished he hadn't.
Because sometime during the conversation, Violet and Harper had wandered over to grab another round of drinks. You'd stayed behind at the booth, scrolling through the jukebox selections alone.
Unfortunately, somebody else had noticed. A guy. Young, mid-twenties maybe. Definitely closer to your age than Eddie's. The guy leaned casually against the edge of your booth and said something.
You smiled politely, and the guy smiled wider. Eddie's jaw tightened instantly. Steve saw it happen in real time.
"Oh no."
"I'm fine."
"You are absolutely not fine."
"I'm completely fine."
The guy sat down at your booth, across from you, knee brushing yours slightly under the table. Steve physically winced.
"Oh, that's bad."
"I'm gonna go say hi."
"You don't know him."
"I know enough."
"Eddie."
But Eddie was already moving. Across the room, you were only half paying attention to whatever the guy was saying.
Something about being from Indianapolis. Something about visiting family. Something about your tattoos. Honestly, he seemed perfectly nice.
Then suddenly his expression changed, and you frowned.
"What?"
The guy glanced up and immediately looked nervous. A familiar tattooed arm draped itself across the back of your booth, then another appeared on the opposite side, boxing you in completely.
"Oh," Eddie said pleasantly. "There you are, sweetheart."
The guy looked between the two of you. "Oh."
Eddie smiled, but not his real smile. The dangerous one. The one you'd already learned meant trouble. "Sorry, man. Didn't realize somebody was sitting here."
The guy stood up so fast he nearly knocked his drink over. "No, no, you're good."
"Mhm." Eddie never stopped smiling.
The guy made a very quick decision. "Well. Nice meeting you." Then he practically disappeared into the crowd.
The second he was gone, you looked up at Eddie.
"Eddie."
"What?"
"What was that?"
He looked genuinely confused. "I came to say hi."
You stared, and he stared back, for approximately three seconds. Then you started laughing, because somehow that was even less convincing than whatever excuse he'd intended to use.
"You are ridiculous."
"Maybe." His grin softened, then he brushed his fingers briefly against your shoulder. "Just checking on you."
The warmth in his voice immediately ruined any chance of staying annoyed.
"You're impossible."
"Been told that."
A few minutes later, after you'd disappeared toward the restroom, Eddie eventually wandered back to the dart boards, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Steve was waiting with a beer in hand and a flat expression.
Eddie immediately knew. "No."
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"Seriously?"
Eddie grabbed another dart while Steve pointed toward the booth.
"The kid practically evacuated."
"He left."
"You ran him off."
"I didn't run him off."
"Eddie."
"He made his own choices."
Steve laughed in disbelief. "You are forty years old."
"Thirty-nine."
"That somehow makes this worse."
Eddie threw his dart. Bullseye. "Don't."
Steve stared at him for a second, then looked toward the bathroom where you'd disappeared, then back toward Eddie. Then finally sighed. "You're screwed."
The second you came back from the bathroom, Eddie was waiting. Not in an obvious way, not standing outside the door like some lovesick teenager. Just leaning casually against the dart board wall with a beer in one hand and entirely too much amusement in his eyes.
The second he spotted you weaving through the crowd, his face brightened ever so slightly. A tiny thing, small enough that most people wouldn't notice it.
"Sweetheart."
You rolled your eyes as you approached. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever this is."
Eddie grinned. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
"Liar."
"Prove it."
You opened your mouth, then closed it, because annoyingly enough, you couldn't. Which only made his smile wider.
"That's what I thought."
"You're insufferable."
"And yet."
"And yet nothing."
"And yet you're still standing here." You hated when he had a point, especially when he looked so pleased about it.
The dart board behind him sat abandoned now, Steve having wandered off to join his wife and Harper near the booths. A few empty lanes sat open, and before you could stop him, Eddie was already pulling a set of darts from the board.
"You ever play?"
You eyed them suspiciously. "Not really."
"Oh."
The grin returned, the dangerous one. "Perfect."
Immediately, you groaned. "No."
"Yes."
"Eddie."
"C'mon."
The next thing you knew, a dart had been pressed into your hand. Five minutes later, you were learning very quickly that Eddie Munson was the most distracting teacher alive. Because at first, he genuinely tried, for all of about thirty seconds.
"You wanna hold it like this."
His hand settled over yours; warm, calloused, and large enough to completely engulf your grip. Your stomach betrayed you immediately, then he stepped behind you, which was somehow worse.
"Oh, my god."
"What?"
"You know exactly what."
"I am literally teaching you darts."
His voice was directly beside your ear, maybe lower, and definitely rougher. You hated him.
"You stand like this."
His hands settled briefly on your hips, “adjusting”, supposedly. The problem was that neither of you seemed particularly focused on darts anymore.
Your heart was pounding loud enough that you were worried somebody else would hear it while Eddie leaned slightly closer.
"Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"You just missed the board entirely."
You looked, and the dart was currently embedded in the wall. "...Okay."
Eddie barked out a laugh, the sound vibrating straight through your chest. "See?"
"Shut up."
"Can't."
His hand slid down your arm, adjusting your grip again. You were beginning to suspect the lesson wasn't real.
Across the room, Steve looked up from his booth and immediately regretted it. "Oh, for the love of God." His wife followed his gaze, then immediately started laughing.
Meanwhile, Harper and Violet were sitting across from one another sharing fries. Harper watched the dart situation unfold for approximately thirty seconds, then another thirty. Then finally turned toward her friend.
"Can I ask you something?"
Violet didn't even look up from her food. "You already are."
"Does this not bother you?"
For the first time all night, Violet's attention shifted toward the dart boards. Toward you. Toward her father. You were laughing at something Eddie had said. Head tipped back, smile huge, the kind of laugh that made your entire face light up.
Violet's expression softened immediately, and the sarcasm disappeared for a second. "Honestly?"
Harper nodded. Violet watched you for another moment before speaking. "No."
Harper looked surprised. "Really?"
"Nope."
Her fingers traced the rim of her drink absentmindedly. "That's probably the happiest she's looked in years."
Something in her tone made Harper pause. "What do you mean?"
Violet was quiet for a second. "Freshman year."
Harper waited.
"There was this guy."
Immediately Harper winced. "Oh."
"Yeah."
The response alone said enough. "Bad?"
"Not physically." Violet sighed. "But he spent two years making her feel like everything about her was too much."
Her eyes drifted back toward you, toward the smile currently plastered across your face.
"He hated her music,” she laughed softly. "Hated her clothes. Hated her tattoos. Thought she was dramatic every time she had feelings."
Harper frowned. "What a dick."
"Exactly."
The relationship had ended almost two years ago now, yet Harper noticed something sad in Violet's expression anyway.
"She hasn't dated since."
Across the room, Eddie was currently saying something that had you doubled over laughing. Whatever it was made him grin too. The look on his face wasn't subtle, not even a little.
And for some reason, instead of making Violet uncomfortable, it made her chest feel warm.
Because she remembered crying with you in your dorm room, remembered helping you pick up the pieces afterward. Remembered all the nights you'd insisted nobody would ever actually want all of you.
Not the loud parts. Not the messy parts. Not the emotional parts. All of it. Yet there you were, laughing, flirting, happy, for the first time in forever.
Harper followed her gaze, then smiled. "Oh."
"Yeah."
Violet grinned into her drink. "Besides."
"What?"
She looked back toward her father, then toward you and smirked that usual Munson smirk. "My dad's obsessed with her."
Across the room, Eddie's hand settled briefly against the small of your back as he helped you line up another throw.
Harper burst out laughing. "Obsessed is an understatement."
A couple hours later, the Hideout had gotten significantly louder.
The local band had long since started playing, conversations were being shouted over music, and somehow your group had managed to push three tables together into one giant mess of empty baskets, beer bottles, and half-finished stories. Steve's wife had eventually given up trying to keep everyone organized, settling instead into laughing at the chaos from a safe distance.
You, unfortunately, were drunk. Not blackout drunk, not Violet-at-the-lake drunk, but definitely drunk enough that everything felt pleasantly fuzzy around the edges.
Unfortunately, Eddie seemed to be in exactly the same boat, which was proving dangerous for everyone involved, especially you. Because sober Eddie at least attempted restraint. Drunk Eddie apparently thought personal space was a government conspiracy.
By ten-thirty, his arm had somehow become permanently draped across the back of your chair. Every time he laughed, he leaned into you. Every time he told a story, his hand found your shoulder, your arm, the small of your back. The man seemed physically incapable of existing more than six inches away from you.
And the worst part? You weren't exactly discouraging it.
"You are so full of shit."
Eddie pressed a hand dramatically over his heart. "That hurts, sweetheart."
"You're lying."
"I'm embellishing."
"That's just lying with confidence."
Steve nearly choked on his drink. "Jesus Christ, she's got your number."
"I don't like this," Eddie muttered.
"You love it."
"Maybe."
The answer came so fast that the entire table immediately started laughing. Harper physically dropped her head onto the table. "Oh, my god."
"What?" Eddie asked.
"Nothing."
"It was definitely something."
Across from you, Violet was grinning into her drink like this was the greatest show she'd ever witnessed. "He's not even trying anymore."
"I'm sitting right here."
"I know." The grin only got bigger.
By eleven-thirty, Steve had finally announced that he was taking his wife home before Harper somehow got herself banned from the establishment.
"I've done nothing wrong."
Steve pointed. "You started three separate arguments."
"I won all three."
"Goodnight, Harper."
The group slowly began breaking apart after that. Goodbyes were exchanged. Tabs were closed. Chairs scraped across the floor as people gathered their things. You stood up and immediately regretted it as the room tilted slightly.
"Oh."
Eddie looked over. "Oh no."
"I'm fine."
"You almost walked into a table."
"The table moved."
"The table did not move."
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at the furniture, and Eddie started laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. Ten minutes later, you were outside in the warm summer air waiting while Steve finished saying goodbye to someone.
The night was quiet compared to the noise of the bar. Crickets chirped in the distance while streetlights cast soft yellow pools across the pavement. You were halfway through explaining a very important theory about why raccoons probably conversed through telekinesis when Eddie suddenly crouched in front of you.
"What're you doing?"
He pointed at your shoes. "You can't walk."
"I can absolutely walk."
To prove your point, you immediately stumbled. Eddie looked at Violet, and Violet looked at Eddie. The two of them started laughing.
"I hate everybody."
"No, you don't."
Then, before you could argue, Eddie hooked an arm behind your knees. You squeaked as the ground beneath you disappeared. "Oh, my god."
"There we go."
"Eddie!"
Suddenly you were being carried like it was nothing. One arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back. You stared at him, and he stared back.
"What?"
"You picked me up."
"Congratulations."
"You're carrying me."
"Mhm."
"Why?"
"Because you're drunk."
You considered this. "Fair."
Violet made a choking noise behind you. When you looked over, she was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.
"What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
"You look insane."
She pointed. "No, you look insane."
The walk home wasn't particularly long, but apparently that didn't matter. Because every time you suggested being put down, Eddie refused, every single time.
At one point, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your cheek against his shoulder. The man practically preened.
"Look at him," Violet whispered.
"Oh my god," Harper whispered back.
"He loves this."
"He absolutely loves this."
Eddie ignored both of them, or pretended to. The smile he was trying to hide said otherwise. By the time the Munson house came into view, you'd gone completely boneless against him, warm and sleepy from the alcohol and the summer air.
"Comfortable?"
"Mhm."
"Good."
You hummed contentedly. Behind you, Violet immediately gagged.
"Dad."
"What?"
"You're gross."
"Am not."
"Are so. You carried her two miles."
"It was half a mile."
"You know that's not the point."
Eddie just laughed, then adjusted his grip slightly and carried you up the front steps anyway. By the time you got inside, Harper was heading toward her own car parked down the street. She paused halfway down the driveway, pointing between you and Eddie.
"I'm not saying anything."
"Good," Eddie called.
"But I'm thinking a lot."
"Harper."
She grinned. "Night, lovebirds."
Then she disappeared before either of you could throw something at her. The second the front door opened, Violet immediately announced, "I am going to bed before one of you says or does something that permanently changes my brain chemistry."
You barked out a laugh. "You are so dramatic."
Violet looked toward the ceiling as if she were asking God for patience. "Goodnight." Without another word, she disappeared down the hall, and a few seconds later, her bedroom door slammed.
Eddie finally set you down on the couch like you were something fragile, which was ridiculous. You immediately sank into the cushions with a satisfied sigh.
"Oh."
His mouth twitched. "What?"
"This couch is amazing."
"It's literally a couch."
"It's a really good couch."
"You're drunk."
You pointed at him. "So are you."
"Yeah." At least he was honest.
Eddie snorted softly and dropped down onto the floor in front of you, resting his arms across his knees. The position put him directly between your legs. Not touching, but close enough that your foot bumped his shoulder.
The soft yellow kitchen light caught the amber in his eyes while he looked up at you. God, the man was unfair. His curls had mostly fallen out of the bun by now, loose strands hanging around his face. His cheeks were flushed from alcohol and laughter, eyes warm and heavy-lidded.
You were in trouble.
"So."
You narrowed your eyes. "So."
Eddie grinned. "You're drunk."
You gasped dramatically. "The audacity."
Eddie laughed, head tipping back slightly, and suddenly you understood why everybody in Hawkins liked him so much.
It wasn't just that he was funny. It was that he laughed with his entire body, like he genuinely enjoyed existing, like he enjoyed being around you. The thought made your stomach flutter.
"You know," you said after a moment.
"Oh boy."
"You scared that guy away."
Eddie immediately looked innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Liar."
"I'm serious."
"You practically chased him out of the Hideout."
His grin widened. "He left on his own accord."
"Mmhm."
"He did."
"Eddie."
The man actually had the nerve to shrug. "He seemed like a smart kid."
You laughed. "Oh, my god."
"What?"
"You were jealous."
His eyebrows shot upward. "Jealous?"
"Very."
"Of a twenty-something wearing boat shoes?"
You burst out laughing since the immediate answer told you everything. "Aha."
"No."
"That's not a denial."
"It is."
"It was a terrible denial."
Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, trying and failing to hide a smile. "You are exhausting."
"Because I'm right."
"You're not."
"You totally are."
The two of you stared at each other, then Eddie sighed dramatically. "Maybe I didn't love him talking to you."
Victory. You pointed immediately. "I knew it."
"Oh, don't look so proud of yourself."
"I am."
"You shouldn't be."
But he was smiling again, the soft kind this time, the one that made your chest feel warm. His eyes drifted across your face for a second before he spoke again.
"You know what my problem is?"
"What?"
Eddie leaned back slightly against the couch. "I forget how old you are."
You blinked. "What?"
"I spend all day talking to you and hanging out with you, and it feels normal." His voice had gotten quieter. "Then some guy your age walks over, and suddenly I remember you're twenty-one."
You stared at him, because there wasn't really a joke hidden inside that one. Eddie looked away first, shaking his head. "Forget I said that."
"No."
His eyes returned to yours. "No?"
"No."
"I like talking to you." The confession left your mouth before you could stop it.
Eddie's expression softened instantly. "Yeah?"
You nodded. "Yeah."
Something warm flashed across his face, like you'd handed him something precious.
"Good." The word came out almost embarrassingly gentle.
For a second neither of you spoke, neither of you seemed particularly interested in breaking whatever this was. Then Eddie glanced upward, down the hall towards Violet’s room. And a mischievous grin slowly appeared.
"Oh."
You immediately recognized that look. "What?"
"I just realized something."
"Eddie."
"If you become my girlfriend—"
"Oh, my god."
"—Vi is gonna be so annoying about it."
You laughed so hard you nearly fell sideways off the couch.
You were still smiling when you looked down at Eddie. He was resting his arms on the couch cushion beside your legs now, chin tilted upward as he watched you.
"You know," you said quietly, "I think Harper's gonna make fun of me tomorrow."
Eddie snorted. "Harper's gonna make fun of me tomorrow."
"Fair."
"Steve definitely is."
"Oh, absolutely."
The thought made you laugh again, and Eddie smiled immediately at the sound. God. There it was; that damn look again. The one he'd been giving you all summer. The one that always felt like he was seeing something in you that nobody else quite did.
Neither of you spoke, just slowly drifted closer until the distance between you felt ridiculous. Then Eddie's hand settled lightly against your knee. A question, not a demand, just an invitation.
You answered by leaning forward first. The kiss was soft, almost embarrassingly sweet compared to the way you'd started things the first night. Just Eddie smiling against your mouth halfway through it because apparently he couldn't help himself.
"Hi," he murmured.
You laughed. "Hi."
"Thought about doing that all night."
"You're impossible."
"Been told."
His thumb traced absentminded circles against your leg while he looked up at you. For a second, neither of you spoke. Then the thought slipped out before you could stop it.
"Would you actually want that?"
Eddie's brows knit together slightly. "What?"
You suddenly felt nervous, which was stupid, but there it was anyway. "The girlfriend thing."
"What?"
You shrugged awkwardly. "Earlier."
When realization dawned, something softened in his face. "Sweetheart."
The nickname came out quieter than usual. You looked away first, which only made him smile.
"Yeah."
Your eyes snapped back to his. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." There wasn't even a second of hesitation.
His hand slid over yours. "I wouldn't joke about that."
Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
You laughed softly, and Eddie squeezed your hand once. "So?"
"So?"
He grinned. "Would you?"
You immediately narrowed your eyes. "Oh, now who's asking questions?"
"Me."
"You can't just reverse it."
"I absolutely can."
You laughed despite yourself, then looked down at your intertwined fingers. At the rings on his hand. At the way he was watching you.
"I'd think about it."
Eddie barked out a laugh. "You'd think about it?"
"I would."
"That's cold."
You nudged his shoulder with your foot. "Shut up."
"I'm serious."
"You should be grateful I'm considering it at all."
His grin widened. "Considering it."
"Mhm."
"Well."
The look that crossed his face immediately made you suspicious. "What?"
Eddie stood slowly, still holding your hand, still smiling. "I might have a way to improve my chances."
"Oh, do you?"
"Mhm." Eddie’s grin turns wicked as he tugs you up from the couch by your hand, pulling you flush against his chest.
“You’ve been teasing me all damn night in this little skirt,” he murmurs, voice dropping low. “Then some college prick thinks he can talk to you at the bar? Nah. I think it’s time I remind you exactly who this pussy belongs to.”
He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he walks you backward down the hallway, kissing you hard, tongue claiming your mouth while his hands slide under your skirt and grab two handfuls of your ass. The second his bedroom door shuts, the switch flips completely.
“Clothes off. Now.”
You move fast, but apparently not fast enough. Eddie spins you around, bends you over the edge of his bed, and yanks your skirt and panties down in one rough motion. He kicks your legs wider, drops to his knees, and buries his face in your cunt from behind without warning.
“Fuck— Eddie!”
He eats you like a man starved. Messy, loud, and filthy. Long drags of his tongue, sucking hard on your clit, then fucking his tongue into you while his grip on your hips keeps you pinned exactly where he wants you. You’re already shaking by the time he pulls back, lips shiny.
“Think that little boy at the bar could eat this pussy like that?” he growls, standing up and shoving two thick fingers into you. “You think any of those college boys could make you drip down their chin the way you do for me?”
You moan helplessly, pushing back on his fingers. He curls them perfectly, stroking that spot that makes your knees buckle. He flips you onto your back on the bed, strips his shirt off, then yanks his belt open. His cock springs out, hard and leaking, but he doesn’t fuck you yet.
Instead, he reaches into the nightstand and pulls out the black vibrator.
“Eddie—”
“Yeah, baby?” His smile is dark, predatory. “Gonna make you so fucking sensitive you forget any other man exists.”
He clicks it on and presses the buzzing head directly against your swollen clit. At the same time, he pushes his cock into you in one slow, deep thrust. You cry out, back arching hard.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, bottoming out. “So goddamn tight. This pussy was made for me.”
He starts fucking you in hard, steady strokes while the vibrator stays glued to your clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming — his thick cock stretching you open, dragging against your walls, and the relentless buzz making your thighs tremble violently.
“Look at you,” he taunts, voice rough as he leans over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other keeping the vibrator exactly where he wants it. “Taking my cock so fucking well. You’d never go back to some twenty-one-year-old loser after this, would you?”
You shake your head frantically, moaning loudly.
“Say it.”
“I—I wouldn’t,” you gasp. “Never— fuck, Eddie—”
He clicks the vibrator up a setting, and your eyes roll back.
“That’s right. Because no college boy is ever gonna fuck you like I do. None of them are gonna make you come so many times you can’t even speak. None of them know how to ruin this pretty cunt the way I do.”
He fucks you harder, hips snapping, the wet sound of you obscene in the room. The vibrator never leaves your clit, and you come the first time with a broken cry, clenching around his cock so hard he curses.
But he doesn’t stop. He keeps the vibrator pressed tight, keeps thrusting deep, drawing out every aftershock until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and twitching.
“Too much— Eddie, please—”
“You can take it,” he growls, leaning down to bite at your neck. “You’re gonna come again. Gonna soak my cock while you’re crying for me.”
He angles his hips just right and turns the vibrator even higher, and the overstimulation hits like a freight train. You’re sobbing his name, nails raking down his back, legs shaking uncontrollably as another brutal orgasm rips through you.
Only then does he pull the vibrator away, toss it aside, and fuck you like he’s trying to claim you completely. Deep, punishing strokes. His hand wraps around your throat tight, and high enough to hold you there while he stares into your eyes.
“Say you’re mine,” he demands, voice wrecked. “Say you’ll be mine. Let me take care of you all fucking summer. Hell, however long you’ll let me.”
“I’m yours,” you moan, voice hoarse. “I’ll be your girlfriend, whatever you want—fuck, I’m yours, Eddie—”
He kisses you filthy and deep, then buries himself to the hilt and comes hard, groaning your name against your mouth as he fills you. For a minute, the only sounds are your ragged breathing.
Eddie pulls out gently, then collapses beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms. His hands are soft now, stroking down your back, pressing kisses to your sweaty forehead, your cheeks, your lips.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice gentle again.
You nod, still trembling. “Yeah… Jesus Christ.”
He chuckles lowly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Good. Because I meant every word. I want you to be mine, not just for the summer.”
You smile against his chest, pressing a kiss over one of his tattoos.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I want that too.”
Eddie’s arms tighten around you, and for the first time all night, his smile is soft.
“That’s my girl.”
hope you guys liked it ;)
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