An answer for @rebelfell from this post about WIPs that'll probably never get written who asked: 'Feelings denial, meet-cutes, fluffy & smutty times? What more could I ask for???? 🐶' (your ask initially disappeared when I tried to save a draft so I did it as a new post 🤷♀️)
From London With Love (working title)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!London-born reader who comes to Hawkins to support an ailing aunt
Premise: You're both early 20s. You're on a gap year after finishing uni with a degree in Biology & Dance or Creative Expressive Therapies with a focus on dance & movement (both genuine courses that I've actually considered). Eddie’s attending the community college part-time, doing odd jobs and dealing on the side, not really knowing what he wants to do with his life.
You first encounter Eddie at a semi-traditional annual camping event where all the kids and YA get together near Lover's Lake and you're chaperoning your two younger f!cousins. There's much glancing and who's that type questions from both sides, probably featuring stay away from him and you've got no chance dude type answers from either side. Eddie watches as you entertain the younger kids, maybe showing them English playground games that they've never heard of and choreographing a group routine to Footloose that you showcase in the afternoon (even the boys join in, Mike, Lucas and Dustin surprising you with air guitar at their improv bit, and Jeff shocks everyone by running in and jive dancing with you near the end, explaining afterwards that his aunt taught him and he loves it bc it keeps him fit and he gets to dance with beautiful women). You enjoy watching Eddie dicking around with the CC boys, heaving logs about and generally helping to set up the camp, although he seems oddly bristly with Jeff after the whole dance thing. You eventually get introduced and talk over whisky at the campfire (with much cute dialogue which I cannot reveal lest I use it somewhere else eventually). Other camping-related events include Eddie being up uncharacteristically early to make coffee in the communal cooking area and watching you struggle to back out of your tent ass-first clutching breakfast goods wearing an oversized cardigan and superhero nightshirt bc you didn't think anyone was there, Eddie watching-not-watching you in the lake (he's totally watching), him not being athletic in the least but jumping in to save a swimmer who's in trouble (or doing something else mildly heroic or helpful like figuring out how to get them out using a long branch and knowhow about pivots and levers or something), you having your wet, brightly-dyed hair braided by your cousins and it being voluminous and wavy and cute once dry the next day (massively nostalgic self-indulgent self-insertion? how very dare you…), Eddie playing guitar around the fire (+ CC jam w instruments and pots/tubs), and Eddie rescuing the three of you on the final night when there's a storm and your tent's damaged and you all sleep in his van, you snuggled against his side (he'd expected to go crash in one of the other guys’ tents, but one of your cousins crawls into his lap and dozes off so 🤷♂️)
Further chapters detail your integration into the community including, but not limited to:
Eddie finding you looking a bit lost outside Joyce's centrally-located diner and offering you a driving tour of Hawkins. He has various 'errands' to run, and you take in Lover's Lake (collecting from Rick's), The Hideout (he's getting his wages and tips, and oh my he plays there too??), Melvald's (plus playful arguments about snacks ofc), and you make him screech to a stop outside the florist/craft shop bc their window display is divine and you meet Claudia Henderson who loves that you love it and finds out you're currently looking for things to do and asks if you'd like to volunteer to help make displays
Eddie finding out your schedule and 'accidentally’ bumping into you as you walk your cousins to/from school (maybe he's on a skateboard, who knows?)
you volunteering at the animal shelter where your mum (an Illinois native & qualified veterinarian who moved away for love) helps out. You take Eddie there one day and he becomes the only person who's ever been tolerated by a huge grumpy Mastiff called Boots (bc that's what it sounds like when he barks) bc all he did at first was sit in with him and read him LOTR (and you reluctantly agree when the other nurses/volunteers remark that he looks damn fine doing it)
shenanigans where on a volunteer dog walk you & Eddie get covered in mud, maybe you get tangled in leads and fall over together and there's awkwardness and feelings™️ & you offer to clean Eddie’s clothes at your place, followed by him accidentally meeting your dad whilst wearing nothing but a fluffy pink bathrobe and you accidentally stumbling in on him changing and getting a view of his torso (swoon)
Eddie taking you to a rusting old abandoned playground where you sit on the swings and reveal personal details about your lives, including how Eddie used to live around there, there was a school etc but it was demolished and Al was a terrible father who never bothered to take Eddie to his new school, that's part of how he ended up with Wayne, etc. and now he just comes here to think and remember his mom
Eddie living with Wayne in an old farmhouse that belonged to his grandfather. Wayne gave up his trucking career to look after him while Al was nowhere to be seen/in jail. The farmland is fallow now and Wayne works at the plant, Eddie helps out with maintenance and now occupies the long sunroom down the side of the house that's home to Gareth's old drumkit, some well used bamboo solarium furniture and all of Eddie’s paraphernalia
another semi-traditional event of a ‘potato party’ at Eddie's where Freak’s family (farmers) provide the goods and everyone wraps them in foil and cooks them around a massive fire in Eddie’s backyard. You come to Eddie’s earlier in the day and you talk and compare music tastes and help him to prep for the party and end up dancing in the kitchen to one of Eddie’s mum’s favourite songs and you asks where he learned and he says she used to dance with him in their old home when Al wasn't round, featuring an almost-kiss before Freak’s truck honks in the driveway. Some kind of fire-based shenanigans, maybe Freak hurts himself and you help and have to spend some time with him, where it gets super late and you end up staying over and Eddie offers you his bed and sleeps on the shitty solarium couch and there's much yearning but nothing happens
another day at Eddie’s where there's a bit of angst bc you fuck about on Gareth’s kit and Gareth catches you, encourages you to sit on his lap so he can 'teach you properly', Eddie's gone to get beers or whatever and walks in on this, and his frustration with all the other guys' interactions with you boils over into arguments & heated discussions where you get pissed off at Eddie bc it was innocent/he doesn't own you/why should he be jealous anyway it's not like you're an item or anything (bc you're frustrated that he hasn't asked you out, but also bc you know it can't go anywhere anyway bc you're not here for long so you take it out on him) and you leave, and Eddie gets pissed off at Gareth for even touching you and G lights a fire under his ass by saying something like if you don't make a move/ask her out I will
another day shortly after Eddie takes Boots for a walk (bc Eddie’s either fostering or has adopted him by this point) and he runs off and Eddie calls you in a panic and you realise your argument was stupid and go to help, and you both end up soaked either bc it rains or Boots gets across a river on the property and you have to go get him & you fall in, featuring a sweet drying-off-the-dog and then getting warm/dry scene where Eddie dons a thin and holey fine-knit black sweater that shows off his tattoos & nipple ring and you wear one of his band hoodies and you cuddle in bed for warmth and you reconcile and then things get messy and heated and you share a spectacular and electric first kiss
you start properly hanging out and increasingly filthy episodes of smut ensue along the usual escalating lines, hand stuff, oral, etc, and you agree not to take things too far bc you're both in denial and trying to keep it low-key and not fall or get too involved bc of your supposed short term residence
at some point you have a meaningful and intense first time together and Eddie can barely contain himself because he's doing it with you and it's slow and spectacular and you can't deny feelings anymore bc of course
there's lots of van smut, and outdoor smut
and farmhouse smut after Eddie convinces you to dance for him when he catches you swaying to Black Magic Woman, you blow his mind and then it becomes a thing with each of you picking different songs
you end up staying longer (bc aunt is permanently disabled/dies, oh dear sad) and your cousins need the support. Mum sets up her own business as the new town vet bc there isn't one & you help with admin pt, dad can work anywhere bc remote, so you need another pt job and get work at Claudia's shop & also do dance tuition/evening classes at the school/community centre (which Eddie picks you up from and totally starts arriving earlier and earlier specifically to ogle watch you)
Eddie helps out at the animal shelter more and ends up getting a steady job doing something he loves because he impresses (for instance) the owner/patron or husband of the owner, like he fixes their vehicles & gets offered a job at a garage, or helps out with admin emergencies or fundraising and becomes the town's newest librarian bc he's unexpectedly organised when it comes to paperwork & literature, or he drives rescues and kit around and enjoys it so much he's convinced to start his own delivery service that everyone loves, bc someone just needed to give him a chance™️/see he wasn't his dad, etc.
Eddie makes a reluctant Wayne come with him to visit you at the store ('now what the hell do I need with a dried flower arrangement, son?') and introduces him to Claudia (bc I want to get these two together whenever I can)
your family adore Eddie despite the gossip/opinions about his family, and your dad cements it the first Christmas you spend in Hawkins by gifting Eddie a brand new fluffy bathrobe in 'a colour that better suits him' (to which it's revealed you've already added a metal band patch to the back)
by the next annual camping trip Eddie and you are a solid item and camp in his van. The cousins (one of whom is now crushing on Dustin) share with Erica & Max bc they're tight now, nobody's tents get blown away, and everyone lives happily ever after goddammit.
Reasons I'll never write this: I don't think it's interesting/original enough to make a strong story; it's a fantasy world I still revisit, and writing it might ruin it; I've had it in my head for 4 years and if it was gonna get written down I think it would have by now.
Thank you for this interesting and exciting prompt to share story ideas I love without the pressure and effort of having to create a full fic! 💗🙏💋
More synopses here | General masterlist
Tagging my usuals; even though this isn't a full fic I hope you still find it interesting nonetheless 💗 @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @swiftievibez @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @steve-loves-eddie @justalotoffanfiction @gracieheartspedro @kellsck @eddiesecstasy @chronicles-of-koystee @cheesesandwichsanto @eddiessweethrt @emxxblog @slutforpumpkins @mama-likes72 @thatsonezesty13 @steddiefication @ali-r3n @spacecadet-dot-net @r-a-t-p-a-t-t-o-o-t-i-e @gregre369 @dmv49 @allsteddie @blondiecat73
hello madam can i pwease get an espresso with caramel drizzle and a cheese cake? 😌
୨୧ ──── fboy!eddie gets soft with you
mdni ⋮⋮ r is drunk ⋮⋮ mentions of alcohol use ⋮⋮ slight angst ⋮⋮ f!reader ⋮⋮ fluff ⋮⋮ 0.5k
note: a repost from my old blog hehe ily pookie <3 also i know you asked for fluff but you know i have to include a bit of angst
1k celly | masterlist
"come on, i got you," eddie whispers. his right arm is placed carefully around your waist, left hand holding onto yours. you're drunk and in no condition to be walking around on your own in heels.
the walk back to your apartment was long, even though it was only three blocks down the road from the club you both venture on saturday nights. you kept stopping along the way, fighting with him to let you walk on your own, even begging him to take you back to the club.
eventually you made it to your place, in one piece, and eddie fiddled with the key in the doorknob. you both always had trouble with it, and eddie told himself he was gonna remind you to get it fixed whenever you're sober enough.
he led you to the bedroom and carefully laid you down onto your bed. you immediatelygot comfortable while he searched your closet and drawers for sleep clothes for you to change into. when he came back, you were on your side, eyes closed and somehow already asleep.
"sweetheart," he whispers, gently nudging your shoulder to wake you. "you can't sleep like that. i got you some pj’s.”
you mumble a soft mmph but slowly push yourself up. he smiles at you, and kneels down to undo the straps of your heels.
you kick your foot a bit to get him to stop. he glances up at you and has to keep from giggling. you have a soft pout, brows knitted together. eddie can’t help but think of how adorable you look.
"no, i got it," you slur.
"absolutely not," eddie takes your hand and looks into your pretty eyes. "let me take care of you."
you stare at him for a moment, trying to take him in even though the room, and him, keep spinning around.
"fine," you say with a huff.
he grins and continues undoing the straps on your heels. you watch him through your lashes. your heart squeezes itself, and she don't even fight the lump beginning to form in your throat.
years of being in shitty relationships where your wellbeing didn’t matter to whoever you were with have left you unable to open up to anyone. so why is it that your fuck buddy, who is just that, and nothing else, is treating you as if you mean something more.
“this is gonna take some getting used to,” you think out loud. startling eddie by the soft sound of your voice.
“what is?” he looks at you with curiosity. he holds out his hand to help you sit up so you can put your t shirt on.
“having someone who cares about me,” you look up at him with tears welling in your eyes.
eddie cradles your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing circles on your skin.
“you’ll always be cared for when it comes to me,” he whispers, his eyes looking deep into your own. “i promise.”
you nod, then lift your arms to slip the shirt over your head.
he helps you back into bed when you're finished and strips down to his boxers before climbing under the sheets next to you. he holds you close, your words playing in his mind on repeat.
eddie munson x bats (fem!reader), alice & roan munson, alan munson
word count: 900+
summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 2: Crop Top | One mister, Alan Munson, stops by and just ruins Eddie’s day.
warnings: an unhappy eddie, a shitty parent
notes: This is a submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! If y’all remember Eddie telling the girls about his parents in this fic— here’s the one where the girls meet one of those said parents. If there’s any mistakes, feel free to let me know!
The same pile of laundry has been sitting on the arm chair long enough that it's basically become a permanent part of the furniture. You've been trying to fold the contents of the pile for about ten minutes and somehow, it looks worse than when you started. You sigh, as you shake out one of Eddie's shirts, "I feel like I just folded this one."
From the couch, not looking away from the TV, Eddie chuckles. "Guess it unfolded itself."
You glance over at him, “I'm gonna start throwing your shit away."
"That's fine." He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. "I'll just start wearing yours. Really lean into the crop top era."
You roll your eyes, abandoning the shirt over the back of the armchair to ball up a sock and toss it at him. It bounces off his shoulder, falls over his chest and down into his lap. He finally looks away from the tv, a smile on his face. "Really? Violence in this house?"
"Oh, don't you start—"
You're cut off by a door slamming down the hall.
"Ro! If we're late again, I'm not lying for you." Alice calls.
You shake your head and reach for another shirt, it's smaller this time. You hold it up, smiling, it's Roan's. You can hear fast, uneven footsteps bounding down the stairs after her sister's voice. "I'm ready!" She shouts, hopping down the last few steps as she tugs on her sneaker.
Alice sighs as she appears behind her, her keys in hand, "You're not ready. Shoes, both feet, let's go."
"I'm working on it, hold on." Roan sighs as there's a knock on the door. She pauses, her foot propped up against the wall, half laced. "I got it!"
"Ro, wait!" You call, moving to put down the laundry in your hands, but she's already there and opening the door. There's a silence that follows.
"Uh… Who are you?" She frowns. You don't hear much of a response other than a few muffled words. She glances back over her shoulder, "Dad?" She calls, confused.
Eddie, beer still in his hand, twists at the waist to look over the back of the couch and towards her. His heart drops out his ass when he sees him. "Oh, fuck no." He frowns, pushing himself up off the couch. He places the beer down on the coffee table, shaking his head, loose curls shaking with him. "We're not doing this." He moves over to the door quickly, reaching for Roan and pulling her back behind him. "Inside."
"What? Why?" Roan counters, only to be stopped by a firm voice she ever hardly hears from her dad.
"Roan Elizabeth. Inside."
Alice tries to peek over her sister's shoulder when she hears the middle name, eyebrows raised. "What's going on?"
Eddie doesn't answer, he's staring straight ahead at the man who's decided to take up refuge on his porch.
"Hey, Ed." Alan Munson says, like this is just a casual visit. "Hell of a place you've got here."
Eddie doesn't respond to that in words either, he just raises his brows.
"I didn't have your number." Al shrugs.
"I know." Eddie snaps. "That was pretty intentional."
You move towards the door then, snaking your way between the girls and your husband as you watch the way Eddie's shoulders climb just a little higher each second he stands in this interaction.
"Dad?" Alice's voice pipes up behind the two of you. "Who is that?"
Eddie just closes his eyes for half a second, like that question physically pains him to answer. You just slide your hand across his lower back. "No one."
Al exhales and shakes his head, an irritated edge sneaking in, "You gonna introduce me or what?"
"No." Eddie frowns, taking half a step back, moving to swing the door shut.
An unwelcome hand presses against it, holding it open, "Eddie—"
"No." Eddie frowns, stepping forward. "You dont get to walk up to my house with my family inside and act like we're gonna catch up over coffee, it's not happening."
The girls shift a bit closer to where you're stood behind Eddie. Al's eyes flick past him almost immediately, landing on them. And to a Munson with just enouugh liquid courage running through his veins— that's the wrong move. Eddie moves to block the three of you as best as he can with his body, while you try to usher the girls away from the door. "Don't look at them."
"Those my grandkids?"
"No."
You slide your hand across his back again gently, "Eds." You try, but he doesn't move. You try again, a bit softer. "Hey."
Al shifts his weight from one side to the other, letting his eyes skim over the entryway. "I'm trying here, kid."
Eddie can't hold back his laugh at that. "It's about thirty years too late."
"Eddie." You say again, much firmer than before. "Look at me."
It takes a second, but you hear him sigh just as his eyes meet yours. You can see all the anger bubbling to the surface, but you also see something else behind those big brown eyes. Something that he still can't shake after all of this time.
"They're watching you." You say softly and nod your head towards the girls slightly. "We can do this later. Not right now. Not with them right here."
His jaw tightens, but he nods, his eyes fixed on you. "You need to leave." He says, softly.
Al opens his mouth to speak.
Eddie looks away from you and cuts him off. "No. You don't get some speech. You don't get closure. You don't get anything from me. I meant it before when I said I don't want you in our lives."
summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 3: TV Tray | Eddie has a few words for Alan.
warnings: a talk that does not go well for Alan, Eddie loses a dad(?)
notes: submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! The more of these I finish early, the better I feel about completing all 31 LMAO. I’ve read this over once, but feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes!
The TV is playing some old rerun of a show Alan Munson does not give a single fuck about, but it's been keeping him company during his meal. He's got a tray pulled up next to the bed he's sitting on the edge of. He's halfway through the microwaved dinner when there are three sharp wraps on the door.
He barely has time to set his fork down when Eddie's voice huffs, "it's me."
So Alan stands and answers. Eddie doesn't wait to step in. He looks much different than the last time Alan really saw him— when Wayne stopped bringing him up for visits. He would've been about 14 then— he's older, lines visible in places where there used to be none. But that's not what stands out to him. It's the way he carries himself these days that does him in. He stands taller, prouder, more of a man than Alan ever was. "Edward—"
"Don't." Eddie frowns, immediately shutting the door behind him.
Alan frowns and sits back down on the edge of the bed. "I didn't think—"
Eddie cuts him off again. " I know, that's kind of your thing. Isn't it?"
Alan sighs, trying to find some sort of footing in this conversation and coming up with none. "I went by your house because I wanted to see my family."
Eddie lets out a laugh, this time much more humorless. "My family." he repeats, shaking his head. "You don't have one here."
Alan's expression hardens as he looks at his son. "I'm your father."
Eddie nods, pausing for a moment. He takes a deep breath, his hands finding a spot on his hips and lets out the words he's been keeping locked away in his heart for a while. "Not anymore."
Alan frowns, straightening his back, on the defensive now. "People change, Eddie. I thought maybe—"
"You thought you could just show up and what?" Eddie interrupts him once more, his voice much sharper now. "That you’d walk into my house, look at my kids, talk to my wife? Like you didn't spend my entire childhood making me wish I had literally anyone else as a father."
The TV plays a laugh track at that moment, which sounds completely insane in the middle of this moment. Alan waves him off. "I didn't do anything to them."
"That's not the fucking point." Eddie's voice cracks through the room, a bit louder now. He drags a hand down his face and sighs, pacing slightly in the little walkway in front of the door. He pushes his hair out of his face, trying to keep himself from falling apart. "They're so good." He goes on, eyes angry, "They're smart, they're funny, they're—" He shakes his head and lets out another laugh, his shoulders falling, "—they're everything I didn't get to be when I was living in a house with you."
Alan goes quiet as Eddie takes another breath. He steadies himself and tips his head down, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back up at his father. "You don't get to walk in now, however many fucking years later when they're already grown enough to be interesting."
Alan raises an eyebrow, his jaw tightening, "I was hard on you, yeah. But I—"
Eddie cuts him off again, "You were cruel." He frowns. "You were mean for the sake of it and I was a fucking kid. I've got kids now. I can't imagine for a second treating them like you treated me."
Alan looks at him, trying to find a version of Eddie that he knows. One that he can get to, talk down to, but he's not there anymore. The man standing in front of him, is a man of a different Munson's creation. He watches as Eddie reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Alan mutters, confused, "what are you doing?"
Eddie pulls out a stack of cash, folds it, and steps forward just enough to drop it onto the TV tray, right beside his dinner. "For the room." He shrugs. "Gas. Food. Whatever."
"I don't want your money." Alan glances down at the stack and then back to his son.
Eddie shrugs again, "I don't care." He sighs, "You stay here. You finish whatever the fuck this is. Then you leave."
Alan snaps up to look at him at that, "And what? That's it? I'm just supposed to disappear?"
"Yeah." Eddie meets his eyes and nods, "You don't come back to my house. You don't talk to my wife. You don't go near my kids. You don't send cards, you don't call, you don't get curious again in five years and try round two. You leave them out of whatever guilt finally caught up with you."
"Edward—"
"I have a father and it's not you. You are nothing to me." Eddie frowns. Those words just sit there between them for a moment. And for a second, it looks like Alan may try to push back. But he doesn't. He just looks downs at the money again, his shoulders rolling as he reaches out, lifting it from the tray. Eddie just nods and makes his way back to the door. He pauses, his hand on the handle. "Don't make me come back here." He says without looking over his shoulder.
Then he opens the door and just walks out. The hallway is cooler and much quieter. The door shuts with a soft click that suddenly feels like the end of a chapter of his life he'd been very much stuck on. Eddie stands there for just a second. Then he drags a hand over his face, exhales hard through his nose, and heads for the elevator, knowing he has a beautiful wife and two amazing daughters waiting for him at home.
Can i do an espresso with vanilla syrup and a double shot and some cookies to go. Thank you greatly
how the tables have turned | eddie munson x f!reader
mdni ⸝⸝ fingering ⸝⸝ dom!eddie ⸝⸝ no upside down au ⸝⸝ references of corruption ⸝⸝ no use of y/n ⸝⸝ light choking ⸝⸝ mirror sex ⸝⸝ daddy kink if you squint ⸝⸝ bratty reader ⸝⸝ 0.9k
1k celly | masterlist
“don’t you dare look away,” eddie breathed against the shell of your ear, his voice slightly raspy with lust. “you’re gonna watch every goddamn second of this.”
he had you on the floor, positioned between his legs, your own spread wide over his thighs, back pressed up against his bare chest in front of the floor-length mirror next to your bed. his fingers were circling torturously slow against your clit, his other hand gripping your jaw to keep you from moving your head around.
"eddie..please..," you whined, squirming in his grasp as you looked at your reflection. you barely recognized yourself: your hair was mussed up, a light sheen of sweat coating your body, your chest heaving from how worked up you are, arousal spread all along your cunt.
it seemed like a lifetime ago when you would have been embarrassed at the thought of him touching you in front of a mirror and making you watch. you had always been shy, quiet, what most people would consider a good girl. once eddie munson came into your life, good girl took on an entirely new meaning.
he had taught you how to take every single inch of his long, thick cock in your tight, perfect little cunt, how to blow him just the way he liked, how to beg so pretty for him to ruin you, how to hold off on cumming until he said you could. a small part of him loved that behind closed doors, he was the only one who got to see you that way. yet, at the same time, he wanted everyone to know that you, as sweet and innocent as you are, were nothing more than a dirty whore for him.
“you love this, don’t you,” eddie groaned, his dark brown eyes trained towards the mirror as he pressed two ringed fingers into your cunt. you tried to answer, but a strained moan that tore itself from your throat. and that was all eddie needed to know that you did, in fact, love everything he was doing to you.
a smug smirk broke across his features, and he leaned down to press hot, wet kisses along your exposed neck. “hmm..of course you do, even though you act like you’re so fucking innocent. we both know you’re anything but.”
eddie’s proximity to you, his hot breath fanning across your heated skin, the wet sounds your cunt makes as he easily pumps his fingers in and out of you, his soft groans of appreciation mixed with your own moans and whimpers, the filthy words he spoke. it all drove you fucking insane. you needed more - craved it with every fiber of your being.
your back arched slightly as his fingers curled against your inner most sensitive spot, moaning loudly. he clasped his hand over your mouth, shaking his head disapprovingly. “shhh…,” he cooed, completely stopping the movement of his fingers, but not removing them from you. “be quiet. you don’t want your roommates to hear you being finger fucked like the whore you are, do you?"
at that moment, you didn’t care. all that mattered was him moving his fingers again. he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. he never did. he always made you work for what you wanted, usually in the form of begging and pleading with him. but you couldn’t do that with his hand covering your mouth, and judging by the smug expression on his face, he wasn’t going to remove it anytime soon.
you rolled your hips against his hand, experimentally at first, testing to see if he would stop you from doing so. when he didn’t, you did it again, and again, and again, eventually finding a perfect rhythm.
“fuck…look at you,” he mused, trailing his darkened eyes down the expanse of your body. the sight of you unabashedly fucking yourself on his fingers, so desperate to feel him, any part of him, made his cock twitch, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go without being buried inside of you.
your lashes flutter as he curls his fingers upward, the tips of his fingers brushing against your sweet spot repeatedly. his hand slipped from your mouth to grip your throat firmly. you gaze into the mirror once more, catching a glimpse of his own fucked out and needy expression.
"like what you see?" you asked, your tone low and sultry as you look at him with a smug smirk. "hm, daddy?"
eddie's body tensed at the name. up until that point, you had never called him that, and he couldn't deny the way it did things to him. the grip on your throat became tighter, his eyes narrowed; turning almost black with a feral glint to them, his cock throbbing painfully.
"i think you do," you continued, the smirk now turned into a shit-eating grin. "wanna know how i can tell? your dick is so fucking hard. i can feel it against my ass. you love that i'm using you to get off."
he growled, the sound low and rumbling deep within his chest. he gripped onto your hair and yanked you back harshly, your head falling onto his shoulder as you giggle.
"careful with that fucking mouth of yours," he warned, glaring down at you, nostrils flaring slightly.
"what fucking mouth?" you taunted, batting your lashes innocently at him. "not sure what you mean."
Every time I scroll Pinterest, I see these text posts, and my immediate thought is: "This is so Eddie coded".
So, to hold you over until my next fic is posted, here are some lighthearted POVs as if you and Eddie were texting, dming, etc., with little headcanons. all besides two of these are bf!eddie. many of these are NSFW (18+) or dance on the topic, so proceed with caution.
(None of these photos are mine, just stuff people have graciously posted to Pinterest.)
anyways, roblogs are always appreciated<33
For reference:
like he would say some shit like that fr.
enjoy<3
bf!eddie who loves when you're mean to him.
bf!eddie who is your submissive little good boy and loves being told as such.
bf!eddie drunk as fuck after going to the hideout with Steve and Jonathan for "boys' night", just to send you a long string of horny messages about what he'd do to you.
bf!eddie who doesn't take arguments seriously. you try to be mean or stern and he just responds with some fuck ass comment like this. he's dead serious too, btw.
(almost)bf!eddie trying to convince you that he's worthy of your love and trust. he's much more of a cat, anyway.
i dont really know what this headcannon would be besides bf!eddie high as a kite talking about a hooter outside his windoe.
bf!eddie sending you pretty pictures of him while you're at work or school to look forward to coming over later.
best friend!eddie getting snitched on by spell check, accepting it, and shooting his shot. (it worked, obviously).
best friend!eddie being a little shit
bf!eddie high, once again, complaining about fish. probably after he was at dustin's house and the fish in his little aquarium tank didn't want to play with eddie.
Part 2?...
i hope you all enjoyed:) i remember i did a poll a while back asking about eddie headcanons. i thought these would be something cute and different to try out, since they're more modern.
Steve, upon falling in love with Eddie, almost immediately becomes Wayne's emergency contact. It's not that Wayne doesn't trust Eddie. He does. He's a great kid, an excellent person. He just also has a tendency to...not be where you need him. And that's fine most of the time. Kid gets stuff done, always helps pay the rent, does his chores all that.
But. Wayne's not getting any younger and he's still working despite Steve's attempts to get him to hang up the old toolbelt. He's probably right but Wayne isn't ready. Can't imagine all that empty time.
And his Harrington boy? He's there every weekend, checking fixtures and changing lightbulbs. Cooking meals to store in Wayne's freezer even though he insists he's got enough food in there to last him through the apocalypse. He mother hen's over Eddie too, making sure he sleeps enough, eats a vegetable or two. So it feels like the right choice to just switch over the name on all his forms.
When he asks Steve, though, the boy's face goes ashen. He has to sit down. He tears up and won't look at Wayne. Eddie sees him, sighs, and comes to the rescue, standing between Steve's legs and pulling his head against his chest. Embracing him hard, making soothing noises.
Wayne waits silently for a moment then apologizes. He's screwed up somewhere and he feels pretty bad about it.
"Oh, no," Eddie laughs when he sees Wayne's face. "This is a happy freak out. Steve's not used to having family. Sometimes it takes him a moment when he remembers."
And suddenly, Wayne has to stand up and take a moment outside. Smoke half a cigarette with his boot kicked up against the side of the trailer. Wouldn't do to make the boys see him cry, too.
So. Yeah. Steve is his emergency contact. But both his sons always show up when anything happens.
⋆˚꩜｡summary: eddie hates your pizza order, but he doesn't hate you<3 based on this request sent in by anon<3
⋆˚꩜｡tags/tw: explicit content +18 only, minors do not interact, no y/n, she/her reader, , best friends to lovers, mutual pining for yearsss, idiots in love?, love confession, domestic fluff, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex (don't do this, you'll get pregnant and die), creampie, eddie cums too quick<3, emotional intimacy, marijuana use, alcohol mention
⋆˚꩜｡wordcount: 6k
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: dear anon, i took some creative liberties bc it wasn't flowing as well as i wanted it to, sorry it isn't as filthy as i usually make 'em </3
Final exams finished and passed – thank God – you were finally able to go home for the summer.
You had taken it upon yourself to put all your faith into the godforsaken – although very loved – hand-me-down car and make the four hour drive all the way from Springfield, Illinois, back to Hawkins, Indiana, before your parents even had the chance to think about coming your way instead.
It had absolutely nothing to do with missing a certain 5”10 metalhead who proudly called himself your best friend. Nope, absolutely nothing at all.
You hadn’t called anyone ahead of time to tell them you’d be back home for the upcoming twelve weeks – not even Eddie – simply because you didn’t have the energy to make family plans and empty promises of catching up with old classmates you didn’t like just yet.
Tilting your head to the side far enough for it to crack loudly, you flicked the turn signal when the weather-tattered Forest Hills Trailer Park sign came into view. You exhaled softly as you slowed down enough to turn right, the crunching gravel and uneven ground beneath the tires rocking the car from side to side until you finally pulled up in front of the Munson trailer.
You turned off the engine and sank further into your seat as the last four hours of driving without stopping finally caught up to you. For a moment, you simply stared at the wooden porch, already dreading the aching trembles that would settle into your legs the second you got out of the car.
Eddie’s van sat parked beside the trailer, confirming he was home and that your surprise wouldn’t be ruined by him spotting your car.
You pulled the key from the ignition and pushed the door open before flicking through the abnormal amount of keys on your keychain until you found the copy he’d given you years ago – perks of being best friends for almost two decades.
Not bothering to grab your bag from the passenger seat – you’d probably make Eddie do it later – you pushed the car door shut with your hip and headed up the steps leading to the front door.
Eddie blew out the earthy smoke of his joint as he glanced at the kitchen clock with furrowed eyebrows when he heard the muffled noise of clinking keys followed by the soft click of the lock.
Wayne had left for work less than an hour ago. There was absolutely no reason for him to be coming back already.
You lazily pushed the door open as a tired sigh escaped your lips before crossing the threshold.
The joint between Eddie’s fingers nearly slipped from his grasp when he dragged his gaze away from the clock and towards the door, finding you instead of Wayne.
For a second, he genuinely wondered if the weed was making him imagine you.
His big brown eyes widened ever so slightly while his eyebrows disappeared behind the frizzy bangs that had escaped the messy bun he’d thrown his hair into hours ago.
“Fuck off,” he mumbled after a solid thirty seconds of staring at you like he’d just witnessed some kind of miracle. “What the hell?”
The cursed welcome-home greeting – so uniquely Eddie – made the corners of your mouth curl upwards as you kicked off your shoes.
“Surprise,” you murmured tiredly as you stepped over to the kitchen table, snatched the joint from his fingers, and dropped into the chair beside him.
The trailer hadn’t changed a bit since you’d last stepped foot inside nearly five months ago. The wallpaper was still ugly and yellowed from years of cigarette smoke, and the AC still made that annoying rumble as it struggled to cool down the place.
“The fuck do you mean surprise?” he asked, blinking a few times as he tried to process the fact you were sitting in his kitchen and not a whole state away.
“The meaning of surprise hasn’t changed as far as I know, Eddie.”
He leaned back in his chair like the extra distance was necessary for it all to sink in.
Then, slowly, the disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips turned into full-blown maniacal laughter as he shoved back his chair and practically launched himself at you.
“Holy shit, you are home!” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around you so fast you nearly choked on your drag.
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you replied between coughs, forcing yourself to ignore how the weight of those words spread warmth along your chest.
“I’m ordering pizza to celebrate,” he mumbled against your hair before finally loosening his grip.
He was already halfway to the kitchen when you furrowed your eyebrows and took another drag of the joint.
“Do you even have money?”
Eddie grabbed the yellowed menu from the fridge and clicked his tongue as he shot you a look.
“For your information,” he deadpanned, pointing the menu at you, “I have been saving up money to come visit you.”
Your eyebrows shot up.
“You?” you scoffed out. “Saving money?”
“I can be a responsible adult,” he replied, sounding personally offended.
“Sure you can, buddy.”
Eddie rolled his eyes as he sat back in his chair and pushed the menu towards you.
“Pick what you want.”
“The fuck are you giving me this for?” you asked, immediately sliding it back across the table. “You know my order.”
Eddie looked at you for a moment longer than necessary before his gaze dropped to the joint resting in the ashtray. He picked it up, lit it, and took a long drag.
“You don’t wanna try something a little more socially acceptable?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Margherita, maybe? Like a normal person?”
A groan escaped you as you sank lower into your chair.
“I’m not even home for ten fucking minutes, and you’re already torturing me.”
“You’re the one torturing me with those taste buds.”
That pulled a tired chuckle from your lips before a yawn overtook it instead. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you covered your mouth with the palm of your hand.
Eddie’s grin softened at that. His gaze drifted over your face, lingering on the faint bags beneath your eyes and the slow blinks that had far more to do with four hours of non-stop driving than the joint you’d stolen from him moments earlier.
Without a word, he stood up and disappeared down the short hallway towards his room.
You’d learned a long time ago to let Eddie do whatever weird thing he was about to do instead of wasting your breath asking questions.
A minute later, he reappeared carrying a clean towel and a chance of clothes. Holding them out to you with one hand, he brough the joint back to his lips with the other.
“Knowing you,” he started before slowly exhaling a stream of smoke, “you left all your shit in the car for me to deal with.”
Your gaze dropped to his ring-covered hand before lifting back to his face as a smile tugged at your lips.
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, echoing your words from earlier. “I love you too.”
You hesitated for a beat, something about the earnestness in his voice catching you off guard. Before you could dwell on it, you blinked once, then again, and reached for the clothes and towel in his hand.
“You better not mess up my order, Edward,” you muttered as you headed towards the bathroom.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”
Thankfully, Eddie had not, in fact, messed up your order.
The heart-attack-inducing pizza topped with double pepperoni, white mushrooms, extra red onions, and a generous drizzle of pesto – much to Eddie’s eternal horror, despite this having been your order for years – was absolute heaven after months of suffering through one-star college-town pizza.
The TV hummed quietly from the living room, forgotten somewhere between slices of pizza and the overwhelming exhaustion that came with four uninterrupted hours on the road. At some point, the two of you’d migrated to Eddie’s bedroom instead, trading the uncomfortable kitchen chairs for the familiar comfort of his unmade bed and cluttered floor.
Somewhere between yawns, giggles, and marijuana smoke, the simmering heat of Eddie’s body had slowly found its way towards your side of the bed while you relished in the comfort and familiarity of his old mattress.
You were in the middle of telling him about something stupid and annoying that had happened at college a few weeks ago when he reached up and gently smoothed a loose strand of hair away from your temple. His hand drifted lower until it found the ends of your hair, absentmindedly curling a strand around his finger like he always did. You shook your head as you tried to remember where you’d left off before the story abandoned you altogether.
Before you could come up with anything that remotely resembled a coherent thought, Eddie let go of your hair and allowed the strand to fall softly back against the pillow.
“You tired?” he mumbled after a while.
Propping his head up on the palm of his hand, he looked down at you.
“Kinda,” you admitted with a slow blink.
The warm glow of the nightstand lamp spilled through the room, painting amber streaks and dramatic shadows across the little things that made the space so uniquely Eddie. The guitar leaning against the wall. The cluttered dresser. The faded band posters that somehow still managed to hang on despite years of being held together by tape and stubbornness.
Its reflection danced in his eyes, though there was something else swimming beneath it – something you couldn’t quite place.
“It’s pretty late,” he said, flicking his gaze towards the red numbers of the alarm clock. “We can just sleep if you want.”
“Nah.” You shuffled closer onto your side and tucked your arm beneath the pillow. “Wanna talk. Missed this.”
For a moment, something softened in his expression.
As soon as it appeared, it was gone again.
“Of course you did,” he replied with a grin. “It’s impossible not to miss me.”
You rolled your eyes, absentmindedly fidgeting with the comforter beneath your fingers before another yawn escaped you.
“That’s it. Let’s get you some sleep,” Eddie mumbled as he pushed himself upright.
He tugged the comforter free from where it had become tangled under the two of you before giving it a quick shake and draping it back over your bodies. The bed creaked and groaned beneath his weight as he settled back against the mattress, fluffing his pillow before getting comfortable.
Then, without thinking anything of it, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer until you were practically sprawled across his chest.
You ignored the small sigh that slipped from your lips when your cheek settled against the inked demon head stretched across his chest.
“You comfy?”
“Yeah,” you murmured. “Can you do that thing with my arm?”
A crooked grin tugged at Eddie’s lips as he looked down at you. “You’re spoiled, you know that?”
There was no bite to the words as his fingers found your forearm, lazily tracing soft spirals against your skin.
You hummed contentedly. “And whose fault is that, hm?”
Eddie knew damn well whose fault it was – his fingers always found their way into your hair whenever you were close enough, his wallet somehow opened a little easier whenever you tagged along to the arcade, and every piece of good news was shared with you before he’d even thought about telling Wayne.
Something tugged softly at his chest.
He ignored and chuckled under his breath instead.
“What if I wanna be spoiled for once?”
“Then I’ll spoil you rotten,” you replied without hesitation.
Eddie fell quiet. His gaze lingered on the wall opposite of the bed while his finger continued tracing lazy circles along your arm.
Then, ever so quietly:
“Can you scratch my head?”
Sometime in the last few minutes, your eyes had drifted shut in the quiet stillness of the room. you blinked them open slowly, trying to adjust to the warm glow of the bedside lamp.
“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled, the corners of your mouth curling upwards. “C’mere, big boy.”
Eddie’s fingers stilled against your skin before he uncurled his arm around your frame.
You pushed yourself a little higher against the headboard and stretched out your arm for him. Eddie immediately shuffled closer and carefully rested the side of his head against your bicep.
“There he is,” you teased quietly, threading your finger through his hair.
He smelled like the cheap sandalwood and pine shampoo Wayne always bought from the dollar store, lingering traces marijuana smoke, and something else entirely – something that was uniquely Eddie. His curls were frizzy and probably held more knots than he’d ever willingly admit to, but you didn’t comment on any of it. You simply worked your hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as quiet, content sighs slipped past his lips.
“Hm,” he hummed, practically melting beneath your touch. “Yeah, you’re definitely gonna have to spoil me more often.”
A low chuckle escaped you as you brought your free hand up to his curls, carefully teasing apart a few stubborn knots before they could snag.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Blinking slowly, he tilted his head just enough to find your gaze already fixed on him.
For a moment, Eddie was certain he’d never seen you look at anyone the way you were looking at him.
“Your future boyfriend’s gonna have a hard time competing with me if you keep looking at me like that.”
The words left Eddie’s mouth before his brain had the chance to catch them. An uncomfortable buzz immediately settled beneath his skin.
Your hand stilled for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for him to notice.
Silence settled between you. The space separating your bodies was practically nonexistent, yet somehow it suddenly felt heavier than it had moments ago – not awkward, just… different.
Then, slowly, the smile that had slipped from your face returned, spreading a familiar warmth through his chest.
“There’s no competition, Eds.”
Your fingers resumed their gentle scratching, as though you hadn’t just ripped off a bandage neither of you had been brave enough to touch for years.
Eddie felt his pulse stumble. “What?”
“In fact,” you continued, completely ignoring the disbelief in his voice, “there never has been.”
He broke his gaze away from yours and furrowed his eyebrows as he swallowed.
“Stop…” he trailed off, trying to lean away before immediately giving up. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it.”
You opened your mouth before closing it again. For a moment, you simply stared at him, his words hitting you like a punch to the chest.
“Of course I mean it,” you whispered.
You let go of his hair and dragged a hand through your own before flicking your gaze towards the yellowed stains on the ceiling.
“I always carry extra cetirizine whenever we hang out, just in case we run into a cat,” you continued quietly. “And I know the real story behind the scar on your chin even though you’ve never told me.”
Eddie’s frown deepened while his entire body went still beside you.
“I know you skipped an entire week of school when Cliff Burton died but told everyone it was because it was the anniversary of your mom’s death,” you continued. “You say you hate broccoli, but you always eat it when I make it.”
A soft sigh escaped you before you swallowed and finally looked back down at him.
“I was prepared to stay best friends forever and be miserable about it,” you admitted quietly. “I figured that was better than losing you.”
The room fell silent. Eddie stared at you. Not moving, not speaking – just staring.
His eyes darted across your face as if searching for the punchline. For the moment you’d laugh and tell him you were kidding. For the moment he’d wake up, for anything that made more sense than this.
But there wasn’t one – there was only you.
The faint bags beneath your eyes, your nervous smile, your shaking hands tangled in his curls.
The look in your eyes he’d been trying not to think about since you’d told him there was no competition.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he whispered.
Your breath caught. “Eddie–”
“I’ve been in love with you for fucking years.”
The words sounded almost pained as they left him – like he’d been holding them back for far too long.
For a second neither of you moved again. Then Eddie surged forward before he could lose his nerve.
One hand found your jaw, while the other buried itself in the comforter.
And then his lips were on yours.
They felt like silk, and his breath was warm against your skin as he let our a ragged exhale, spreading heat from your cheeks all the way down to your chest.
Your eyes drifted shut as you pulled him closer, unable to stop what he’d started.
A shiver ran down your spine as your senses became overwhelmed by everything Eddie – the shirt he’d loaned you hanging from your frame, the earthy scent of his shampoo, the familiar weight of his hand against your cheek, the nervous drumming of his fingers beneath it.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes slowly opened and found yours. They lingered on your face as though he was trying to memorize every detail while desperately attempting to get the fireworks in his chest under control.
“Fuck Springfield,” he mumbled after a few seconds, apparently incapable of surviving a vulnerable moment without cracking a joke. “I’m kidnapping you.”
A laugh escaped you. “Kidnapping isn’t very boyfriend material, Eddie.”
“Boyfriend, huh?” the words sounded almost disbelieving coming from him. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good,” you replied with a grin. “Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Obviously,” he scoffed. “Do you know how hard it is to kidnap a college student?”
You barked out another laugh, the ugly kind that made your stomach hurt and was reserved for him alone – and pulled him closer again, threading your fingers back through his curls. The frizzy strands felt soft against your fingers as you resumed scratching his scalp.
Eddie couldn’t seem to stop looking at you. Like he needed the constant visual confirmation that you were still there, still real. His gaze carried a quiet sort of electricity now, something warm and disbelieving all at once.
Slowly, he tilted his head forwards until his forehead rested against yours, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek.
Then he leaned in and kissed you again. He pulled you into his chest and rolled the both of you until his back laid flush against the mattress.
A sound that was half groan, half disbelieving laugh escaped him against your lips. His fingers tightened slightly against your cheek as he kissed you slowly, almost teasing at first, though there was something else underneath it now; something desperate, and that had been waiting for too long.
You hooked a finger around one of his curls and gave it a gentle tug when a quiet sigh slipped from his lips. All the frustration had been building between the two of you for years slowly found its way into the kiss.
Neither one of you seemed willing to be the first to pull away. But when you finally did, both of you were breathing a little harder than before.
Eddie’s eyes looked darker beneath the amber glow of the bedside lamp, his lips slightly swollen from kissing you. For a moment, he simply stared like he still couldn’t believe any of this was real.
“Please tell me you want this,” his words came out rough and breathless, his chest rose and fell unevenly beneath you as his eyes searched your face.
A soft, disbelieving scoff escaped you while you glanced away for a second before looking back at him – back at the man you’d spent years trying not to fall in love with.
“I’ve wanted this for years,” you whispered.
Eddie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let your words settle between you while his eyes continued searching your face. The longer he looked, the more ridiculous he felt. The faint shadows beneath your eyes. Your messy hair. The unmistakable affection swimming in your gaze that, apparently, had been there all along. How the fuck had he missed it for all these years?
“Good,” he said after a moment. A mischievous grin was already spreading across his face before the word had fully left his mouth. “Because I really wanna eat you out.”
A loud, undignified snort escaped you. Your head tilted back as laughter burst from your chest.
“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” you wheezed.
“What?”
He tried to sound defensive, as though laughing at the words that had just left his mouth was the most offensive thing you’d ever done in all the years he’d known you. But the act lasted all of three seconds when his lips pulled into a pursed smile before giving way to a chuckle at your disbelieving expression.
“Just being honest here, sweetheart,” he replied quietly. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your waist. “Since we’re confessing and all that.”
You were still trying to catch your breath from the kiss while his ridiculous words continued echoing in your ears.
You brushed a stray curl away from his eyes and made a mental note to trim his bangs the next chance you got.
Reaching for the back of his head, you gently pulled him closer. A soft sigh escaped you when your lips met once again.
Something in Eddie seemed to snap the moment you kissed him back. Slowly, he rolled the two of you over until your back met the mattress again, bracing himself with one arm while the other remained firmly around your waist. The bed creaked beneath the shift in weight as he settled between your legs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled when he finally pulled back for air.
His thumb continued brushing softly against your cheek as he shook his head in disbelief, as though he didn’t quite trust himself with the affection spilling from his mouth.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he admitted quietly, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips. “But you’re tired, and–”
“I want this, Eds,” you whispered, and slid your hand from the back of his head to his cheek, cradling his face gently.
Eddie’s gaze finally lifted from your lips to your eyes.
“Are you sure?” the question came out softer than before. “Because it’s okay if you don’t.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped you – sometimes he could be so ridiculously stubborn.
“How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?” You stole a quick kiss before he had the chance to answer. “I want this.”
Whatever had been holding him back finally snapped once and for all when he leaned in again, his lips finding yours like he needed your kiss to breathe.
His fingers twitched against your cheek before they slowly trailed down to the hem of your shirt. A warm breath escaped him when his fingers skimmed over the skin of your hips, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The gentle grip you had on his cheek faltered for a brief moment as he started tracing soft circles beneath your shirt, like he was trying to memorize every inch he could reach.
You parted your lips when you let go of his face entirely and brought your fingers back into his curls. Eddie stilled, and his thumb pressed a little harder into your hip when he felt you give his hair a tentative tug. A shiver ran through him at the touch, and he slowed the kiss just enough to catch his breath before he finally – almost hesitantly – pulled away.
“Can I…” the words died on his tongue as he swallowed hard and opened his eyes.
His fingers drifted back to the hem of your shirt, giving the fabric a small, uncertain tug. It took your brain a split second to catch up before you gave him a shaky nod. Eddie swallowed again and nodded back – though it seemed like he was doing it more for himself than for you.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright until he was kneeling between your legs. His hand slipped beneath the fabric and gently lifted your shirt over your head.
Heat instantly rushed to his cheeks, tainting his milky skin a bright pink, as you pulled your arms free from the sleeves, but he didn’t let his gaze wander. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on yours, still searching for even the smallest hint of hesitation.
Eddie’s heart pounded wildly in his ears as he finally dared to let his eyes trace the delicate curves of your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts. With shaking hands, he gently caressed your sides as he marveled at how you reacted to his touch. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his fingertips, your nipples hardening in the cool air.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured reverently, barely above a whisper.
His fingertips danced along your sternum, circling each breast with agonizing slowness. You arched into his touch, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips when he dipped his head and pressed feather-light kisses along the valley of your cleavage. Your fingers pulled at his hair, urging him closer.
Eddie cups your breast almost hesitantly, brushing his thumb over the sensitive peak. At the same time, he captured the other nipple between his lips, and flicked it teasingly with his tongue. Emboldened by the sharp gasps spilling from your mouth, your body arching off the bed and into his chest, he sucked harder and grazed the hard peaks with his teeth. He moaned against your skin, lavishing you with devoted attention as he switched between them, alternating between licks and nibbles until they glistened with his spit.
Your hips roll restlessly beneath him, seeking friction. He let go of your breasts and trailed open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into your navel – the little shit shot you a little grin when he did so, always one for the dramatics. Lower he went, until he finally reached the waistband of the boxers hugging your hips. Slowly, almost torturously, he inched the fabric downwards, exposing more than he’d ever seen of you.
His breath hitched as something urgent and hot coiled in his core. Eddie curled his hands around your thighs, softly pushing them further apart until his gaze found your slick folds. The heady scent of your arousal filled his nostrils, making his cock throb almost painfully under his boxers.
“Gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he mumbled almost absentmindedly, and trailed one finger through your wet slit. “Fuck, can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”
Eddie then locked his eyes with yours as he lowered his head, holding your gaze. His plush lips grazed your clit, pulling a sharp exhale from you both. He lapped softly at your pussy, savouring the way you tasted and ingraining it into his tongue. You pressed him closer, nails scraping sharply against his scalp and fingers tugging harshly at the curly strands, desperate for more. The silent plea you gave him was more than enough, and he sealed his mouth over your slit and thrusted his tongue inside, fucking you steadily as he all but slurped at your essence.
“I– Fuck,” you breathed out as Eddie trailed a thick lick back to your clit, and softly pushed a finger into your pussy. “Y-yes, just like that.”
A groan escaped him when you fluttered around him, drawing him in deeper. He pumped his digit lazily, curling it to stroke that secret spot like he’d done it times and times before, making stars burst behind your eyelids. His tongue swirled mercilessly around your throbbing clit, lashing and flicking it with practiced precision.
He couldn’t remember when he’d closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he found you with your head thrown back, your lips parted in a small circle as your chest heaved up and down. He added another finger, stretching you open deliciously slow as you writhed mindlessly underneath him.
Your legs trembled around his face, your feet accidentally brushing against him when your toes curled until suddenly, he withdrew completely, denying your release.
“No, no, no,” you whine out, your eyebrows pulled into a tight furrow. “Fucking hell, you’re such a fucking di–”
Eddie silenced you with a filthy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You returned the heated kiss fervently, licking into his mouth and letting your slick tongues intertwine.
Pulling away again, Eddie gazed down at you with molten brown eyes, a grin spreading across his kiss-swollen lips.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured, ignoring the curses falling from your mouth.
Like he needed to make his point, he dove back between your thighs, and latched his lips onto your clit like a man starved. He suckled forcefully, flicking the swollen nub with rapid strokes of his tongue.
“Eds–” you whine, desperate to finally get the release he’d taken away from you moments ago. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
Just as the wave of ecstasy had found its way back to you, Eddie drove two fingers into your clenching slit, pumping vigorously as he kept sucking. Your juices gushed on his chin, back bowed clean off the bed as wave after wave of mind-melting bliss crashed over you until you collapsed bonelessly against the mattress.
Eddie watched raptly as you came undone, a broken groan slipping from his lips, completely transfixed by the picture in front of him – hair splayed wildly, skin gleaming with a sheen layer of sweat, mouth agape in ecstasy as a broken moan slipped from your lips. Pride surged through him knowing that he did that, that he unravelled you so thoroughly like he’d had wanted to do for so long.
He gave you a moment to come down, and placed a tender kiss on your inner thigh before crawling up your body. He settled between your limp legs, nestling his aching shaft against your slick entrance. Capturing your lips once more, he kissed you deeply, conveying without words every feeling he had ever pushed down over the years. You looped your arms around his neck, and pulled him impossibly closer as you ground up against him, frantic with need.
“Can’t believe you’re all mine,” he mumbled against your lips.
He reached between you, and tugged his boxers down just enough for his cock to slip out and gave himself a desperate tug, then another, and guided himself to your dripping opening. You felt hot and tight around his swollen tip as he prodded insistently at your slit until finally sinking into your slick pussy. A breathy encouragement of his name escaped you as he sank himself deeper into you, groans spilling from his own lips at the feeling of being fully sheathed within your walls.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grunted sharply as you locked your legs behind him, and pulled him impossibly deeper until he was buried to the hilt. “You’re so… I don’t think I’ll last long, sweetheart. Fuck.”
Eddie hissed sharply when he felt your nails dig into his shoulder, and pressed his clammy forehead against yours as he took a moment to let you adjust – although he probably needed the moment more than you did.
Electricity zinged up his spine at the delicious pressure engulfing his aching cock, and he set a deep, driving rhythm as he rocked into you with purpose. Each slow, yet powerful thrust punched the breath from your lungs, his heavy balls slapping at your ass as he drew broken moans from your sweet lips. Eddie’s hand roamed greedily, squeezing and kneading every supple curve of your body as you met him stroke for stroke, clinging on for dear life as the knot deep in your stomach wounded tighter and tighter.
His ears twitched with every hitch in your breath, every shiver that ran down your spine, every time your nails dug a little deeper into his milky skin, like he desperately needed to memorise every little detail of how you reacted to him.
“Where do you want me, baby?” he pushed himself off of you just enough for his gaze to find your closed eyes, furrowed brows and mouth lulling open.
“Fuck, Ed-Eddie,” you moaned out as he gave you another hard thrust. “In– mhm! Inside, p-please.”
“Jesus,” his hips faltered when your words reached him, but he picked up the pace again just as quickly. Every roll of his lips was deliberate, insistent on drawing out every breathless whimper and broken moan you had to offer. “You can’t just say shit like that.”
“P-please, Eddie,” you breathed out, and opened your eyes, blinking a few times until his face came back into focus. “I want it, please.”
Eddie gave you three last hard thrusts before his hips halted, pulsing hot seed directly into your spasming core. You followed right after, clamping down on his spurting cock as you shattered around him. He collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he tried – and failed – to catch his breath. The two of you had become a tangled mess of limbs and heavy, ragged breathing.
“I don’t– Jesus,” he breathed out after a moment, the words muffled and low. “I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard.”
His breath steadied after a few more seconds, although his heart still pounded loudly in his ears as he pushed himself up just enough for his eyes to find your face. His gaze softened immediately at the sight in front of him – you licking your dry lips as you blinked lazily up at him.
But then he immediately groaned and cringed at himself.
“Ah, fuck,” he mumbled as he fell forwards again, nearly suffocating you.
You hummed softly in confusion as you let go of his shoulder and dove your fingers back into his messy locks. You pull a low, satisfied sigh from him as your nails scraped gently against his scalp.
“Can’t believe I came before you.”
A low chuckle escaped you before you could stop it. Shaking your head, you whispered something that sounded an awful lot like idiot under your breath.
“I couldn’t care less, Eds,” you managed to say after you’d finally gotten your laughter under control. “It’s not gonna make me love you any less.”
Eddie stilled above you, like your words had hit him square in the chest. His breath caught, and his fingers twitched against the sheets beneath you. For a moment, he kept his face hidden into the crook of your neck.
But the tension melted from his shoulders as quickly as it had appeared. He leaned back just enough for his lips to find yours again, slow and careful.
“I fucking love you too,” he mumbled against your lips.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes glimmered beneath the low amber light of the bedside lamp, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.
“Yeah?” you asked with a bashful smile before something else crept into your gaze. “Even my dubious pizza order?”
Eddie snorted. “Yeah, even your dubious pizza order.”
“Good.” A grin spread across your face. “Because I could really use another slice after all of this.”
He stared at you for a long moment, blinking in disbelief.
“We just confessed our undying love, and you’re thinking about pizza?”
“Don’t pretend like you couldn’t go for another slice too,” you chuckled.
Eddie hissed lowly as you accidentally clenched around him, and softly pulled out his softening cock out of you. He shook his head, though the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth ruined any attempt at looking annoyed. He pulled his boxers up his hips and, without another word, pushed himself off the bed and disappeared down the hallway.
Not even ten seconds later, you heard the fridge open and close, followed by the soft sound of footsteps making their way back towards the bedroom. Eddie appeared in the doorway with the pizza box in one hand and two cans of beer balanced in the other. He dropped both at the foot of the bed before helping you sit up, trying his best – and failing – not to stare at your chest.
“You hate eating in bed,” you pointed out as he pulled his eyes away from your naked frame, and flicked open the pizza box.
“But I don’t hate you,” he mumbled in return, passing you a slice.
For a moment, all you could do was stare at him.
A soft smile slowly spread across your face as you took the slice from his hand.
⋆˚꩜｡summary: what was supposed to be a simple one night stand has become significantly more complicated, and eddie going back on the road isn’t making things easier — and neither is the way you kneel for him
˚꩜｡tags/tw: explicit content, minors do not interact, no y/n, she/her reader, (very) slight angst, mutual pining, tour life, oral sex (m!receiving), (oral) sex in a semi public room, light degradation?, teasing, dirty talk (???), praise bc eddie is our good boy<3, needy eddie, slight dom/sub dynamics, brat tamer reader?, power play dynamics, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight humiliation kink undertones ig, cockwarming-adjacent teasing, cum play (kinda), abrupt ending (soz)
⋆˚꩜｡word count: 4.7k+
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: i wasn't actually planning on writing a part two for hollow crusade, but here we are loll written for my lovely @whitakerstorm thehee <3 btw there’s nothing minor about eddie’s dick, the note is just as dramatic as he is<3 // edit: i was gonna post this on friday but seeing iron maiden live tonight turned my brain to mush, hope y’all enjoy :)
The Brass Lantern had been painfully slow tonight.
A group of three college kids occupied a table in the far back, while Mike – who’d finally made it home earlier that day and had firmly refused to jump straight back into work – sat at the counter.
Meanwhile, you pretended you hadn’t already wiped down the wooden surface three or four times in the last thirty minutes.
You also pretended you weren’t constantly glancing over your shoulder at the clock hanging above the shelves of liquor, tracking the time as though you had somewhere important to be.
Because you didn’t; you hadn’t made any plans for tonight.
And you definitely weren’t expecting a certain grey-haired man to walk through the door.
Mike’s annoying green eyes followed your every movement – how you paced back and forth, dried glass that had already been dried, wiped down the same spot on the counter for a fifth time. He felt like he was watching a plane crash in slow motion.
“You know,” he said eventually, “if you scrub it any harder, you’re gonna take the varnish off.”
“I’m cleaning,” you huffed out before eventually tossing the rag over your shoulder.
“You’re hovering, kid,” he muttered behind the rim of his glass.
You rolled your eyes and reached for a clean glass before you snatched the whiskey bottle from Mike’s grip – owner privileges, or whatever he called it.
“This ain’t your bar,” he murmured as he snatched the bottle back before placing it far enough you wouldn’t reach without moving. “I’ve been back for eight hours and you’re already pissing me off.”
“Go back to Florida then, old man.”
Mike took another sip of his whiskey before glancing towards the entrance.
You could see the gears turning in his head.
“Don’t start,” you muttered as you pointed your glass at him.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking loud enough,” you pursed your lips.
One of the inebriated college kids raised their hand a little too excitedly to catch your attention before they motioned at their emptying glasses and slurred an can we have another round, please?
You clicked your tongue loud enough for them to hear, followed by a curt nod before you reached for three clean glasses. This was good – at least you had something to do for the next two minutes instead of being interrogated by your boss.
A country-rock song you’d never hear before crackled softly through the speakers overhead as you poured the drinks and set them on the tray before scribbling the order onto their bill. Mike watched as you moved beneath the warm amber light, disappearing around the counter and behind him as you made your way towards the three patrons.
You returned a few moments later, balancing a collection of dirty glasses on the tray while a deep frown settled between your eyebrows.
“You’re gonna scare our only customers with that face,” he muttered against the rim of his glass before pushing himself off the stool. “Go smoke, and please come back with a smile or something.”
“I fucking hate it when men tell me to smile,” you muttered, already reaching for your tattered pack of cigarettes before all but storming out of the bar.
The thick, humid Nashville air hit you before you’d even pushed the door all the way open.
The night hung heavy and wet – a black, starless sky smothered beneath low clouds. Thick grey masses pressed close overhead, swollen and breathless, as though the sky itself was holding its breath while stubbornly withholding the rain. The air felt annoyingly warm and oily against your skin, clinging to you and turning the streetlight overhead into a hazy, muted halo.
A deep sigh escaped you as you leaned against the brick wall and slid down until you were sitting on the sidewalk. The cigarette found its way between your lips almost automatically while you watched the white headlights of passing cars grow and shrink in the distance.
In between the dry, chemical tang of cigarette drags, you brought your thumb to your mouth. Your teeth worried at the loose skin around the nail for no reason other than the fact that you’d never been particularly good at sitting still.
You’d caught yourself doing that more often lately.
What had supposed to be a simple one-night stand three weeks ago had turned into a constant buzz beneath your skin. Stolen glances towards a half-working clock. Lingering looks from behind the counter. A stomach that flipped every time a certain grey-haired man walked through the door. Finding excuses to stay after closing, and missing him on nights he didn’t show up.
And now he was going back on the road at the end of the week.
Jesus Christ, get a grip.
Another sigh escaped you as you closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the brick wall behind you.
The heavy thud of boots against the sidewalk pulled you from your thoughts – just in time to stop yourself from spiralling outside your workplace.
“Hey, you.”
His warm, roughened voice reached you a second before he did.
Eddie’s grey curls seemed to have doubled in volume, frizzing wildly in the humidity.
So did his smile when your eyes finally found him.
“Hey,” you murmured quietly before taking one last drag from your cigarette and throwing it somewhere on the street without caring too much about it.
He let his gaze linger on your face for a moment longer than necessary. The smile tugging at his lips faltered for a brief second before he carefully crouched down beside you.
You reached for the tattered pack resting between your legs and pulled out another cigarette. Bringing it to your lips, you lit it without much thought.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just tired,” you mumbled as your gaze drifted away from the street and back to him.
Eddie’s eyes lingered on your side profile for a moment longer before he braced a hand against the ground and lowered himself beside you, completely ignoring the protest of his joints as he reached for you pack.
“Bullshit,” he murmured as he lit his cigarette.
“We’ve known each other for three weeks,” you muttered, a humourless laugh escaping you. “How would you know if I’m bullshitting or not?”
That made Eddie still beside you, his tattooed hand pausing mid-air between drags. His eyebrows pulled into a furrow as he blinked slowly at you.
“Where is this coming from?” he murmured as he brought the cigarette back to his lips.
Instead of answering right away, you exhaled and dragged a hand through your hair. You licked your lips and brought the cigarette back to your mouth for another long drag. The ember glowed warmly between your fingers as you stared across the nearly empty street.
Beside you, Eddie waited, his eyebrows still furrowed. Which somehow only made everything worse.
“You leave on Friday,” you muttered eventually, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose with your free hand before letting out another weary sigh.
Neither of you said anything for a few seconds. A car door slammed somewhere down the block, the sound echoing through the humid air and bouncing off the surrounding buildings.
“And that’s what’s got you sitting on the sidewalk looking like somebody kicked your dog?”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Maybe,” you admitted as a small, bitter smile tugged at your lips.
“Maybe?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Munson.”
You dragged a hand down your face as the words settled heavily between you.
“Y’know,” he started softly, flicking ash onto the pavement as his gaze drifted down the quiet street, “you could always tag along.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you muttered, scrunching your nose as you shook your head.
“I’m not,” he said, and turned back towards you.
“Yes, you are,” you sighed. You pinched the cigarette between your fingers and stared at the glowing ember for a moment. “You can’t just… say stuff like that like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”
You crushed the cigarette filter against the concrete with more force than necessary before flicking it into the street. Then, without another word, you rose to your feet.
Eddie’s eyes followed you immediately. He tilted his head back against the brick wall, curls dragging over the rough surface as he watched your expression. He immediately noticed the deep furrow between your eyebrows as you stared down at the ground, absentmindedly kicking at a discarded beer cap. After one last slow drag of his cigarette, he pushed himself to his feet.
He could practically hear the gears turning in your head.
“Don’t go there,” he murmured softly as he dropped his cigarette onto the sidewalk and crushed it beneath his boot.
“A little too late for that,” you replied wearily, your eyes still fixed on the ground.
Eddie stepped closer and rested his hands on your hips, pulling you gently towards him, and traced slow circles against the fabric of your shirt.
“This was supposed to be…” you trailed off and swallowed. “Easy and fun.”
A quiet breath escaped him as he continued the soothing motion of his thumbs.
Eddie couldn’t help noticing how you looked beneath the amber glow of the streetlights. Even now, when you refused to look at him, that stubborn furrow remained firmly planted between your eyebrows. Something warm stirred beneath his ribs when he felt his expression soften – a reaction that seemed to happen more and more often whenever he was around you.
“And now I feel like a fucking teenager throwing a tantrum.”
That earned a soft laugh from him, and his tattooed hands tightened around your hips ever so slightly.
“Trust me, sweetheart,” he murmured, tilting his head as he finally caught your eye. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled when I booked my flight, either.”
That finally made the furrow between your eyebrows soften.
“How long will you be gone?” you asked hesitantly.
“Two months,” he answered softly, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek.
“Jesus,” you glanced away for a second. “See? A fucking teenager throwing a tantrum.”
Eddie barked out a laugh at that – the kind that made him throw his head back and his stomach ache.
When the laughter finally died down, he looked at you again.
“The offer still stands,” he reminded you.
“I don’t have enough money to pay rent and book a flight,” you deadpanned.
He opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off before he could get a word out.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“The answer is still no,” you murmured as a mischievous glimmer found its way to your eyes as you trailed your fingers over his chest and twisted his nipple.
“Ouch! What the hell?” Eddie yelped, loosening his grip on your cheek to smoothen the assault you’d just committed on him.
You shook your head, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt before leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“That was for trying to act like my sugar daddy instead of my–” the words died in your throat as warmth crept into your cheeks. “Whatever. I’m heading back.”
“Mike can hold down the fort for another few minutes, babe,” he murmured, catching your wrist when you tried to reach for the door. “You were saying?”
“I wasn’t saying anything,” you replied, deliberately ignoring the new glimmer in his eyes.
“I’m pretty sure you were about to call me your boyfriend,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.
“You’re too old to be called a boyfriend.”
“Manfriend isn’t a thing, babe,” he laughed. “But sure. Manfriend, boyfriend – I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
You shook your head as you tried – and failed miserably – to keep a smile from tugging at your lips.
“I want you to be less annoying,” you replied, though the way the corners of your mouth curled made it clear you didn’t mean a word of it, “and let me get back to work.”
Eddie’s gaze flickered towards the large window of The Brass Lantern, catching Mike scratching absently at his head before he looked back at you. He squinted and pursed his lips, pretending to consider your request for a moment.
“Can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Being a rockstar, and all that.”
“Should I call TMZ?” you raised an eyebrow. “’Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson harasses woman half his age’.”
“Nah,” a grin tugged at his lips. “’Eddie Munson harasses his girlfriend.”
Eddie’s grin widened as he watched you open your mouth, only to close it again, and your widened eyes blinking helplessly at him.
“You know what?” you said after a moment, not giving him a chance to reply. “Can’t wait for you to be gone. You’re too annoying.”
His eyebrows shot up at your words.
“Wow, okay,” he said, nodding sarcastically. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
Before you could react, he let go of your hips and immediately dug his fingers into your sides. Broken laughter escaped you as you tried to twist away from him, nearly doubling over when he chased the movement and found the spot beneath your ribs.
The wooden door creaked open behind you, but neither of you seemed to notice.
“I don’t pay you to flirt with my customers, kid,” Mike muttered, forcing his lips into a disapproving line.
Eddie’s head whipped over his shoulder at the sound of his voice, his hands immediately stilling against your sides.
“And you, asshole,” Mike continued, pointing at him, “are you buying me a welcome-home drink or not?”
The backstage pass hung heavier from your neck than it should have.
You turned the laminated card over between your fingers – fresh homemade manicure glistening under the passing street lights – for what had to be the tenth time before you finally stepped out of the cab.
CORRODED COFFIN – ALL ACCESS.
The words still looked ridiculous, no matter how many times you read them again.
Three weeks ago, you’d been serving whiskey to a tired man at the end of the bar. Now you were standing behind an arena in Nashville while stagehands wheeled road cases twice your size past you.
You followed a buff, bald guy – who was far nicer than he looked like – through the endless maze-like hallways until the two of you stopped in front of a white door. It would’ve been just another unassuming door if it wasn’t for the laminated piece of paper that read CORRODED COFFIN: PLEASE LET THESE MAN IN, along with a picture of each member. Because apparently, even at their grown age, they still lost their credentials frequently.
The bald crew member knocked twice before pushing the door open. Noise spilled into the hallway instantly – not music, or shouting, just light conversations. The kind that happened when people had known each other for decades. He stepped aside and motioned for you to go in.
Eddie looked up from where he sat, a cigarette in one hand and a can of beer in the other. His expression instantly softened the moment his eyes found you.
He passed his beer to Gareth and crushed the half-smoked cigarette before he pushed himself off the couch and stepped closer. His hands immediately found their favourite spot, pulling you closer by your hips to greet you with a soft kiss.
“There you are,” he murmured when he pulled away.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been anxiously waiting for me,” you replied sarcastically, although the look you gave him was far sweeter than you’d intended.
“Oh, he has,” Gareth murmured teasingly, tipping Eddie’s can back for a sip. “It was getting kinda annoying, if I can be honest.”
“Shut up,” Eddie muttered over his shoulder, though his voice didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as he’d hoped.
Gareth didn’t bother replying. Instead, he simply grinned into the beer can while Jeff – the little shit – immediately burst out laughing.
Eddie’s hands tightened ever so slightly around your hips, his smile softening as his eyes lingered on your face.
For a moment, the noise of the green room seemed to fade into the background.
Until Gareth ruined it again.
“Jesus Christ, look at him,” he groaned dramatically. “He looks like a fucking teenager in love.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, and pointed towards the door behind you. “Scram.”
The drummer barked out a laugh and pushed himself off the couch in search of another beer.
“C’mon, Jeff,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself while he opened his new can. “Let’s give the lovebirds some time alone.”
Jeff merely shook his head, his grin still firmly in place as he murmured a low hi towards you and followed Gareth out of the green room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Eddie had spent more than twenty years in rooms exactly like this one.
Corroded Coffin had performed in the best of halls, the worst of halls, and everything in between. And, surprisingly, the backstage areas never differed all that much, no matter where. Obviously, some were bigger and fancier than others, and had much more luxurious trappings – but they all served the exact same purpose.
Despite being the vocalist of the band, Eddie had never really felt the need to have his very own dressing room like a lot of other iconic frontmen had.
The green rooms the three men shared were always alarmingly simple – unlike what some people might expect. They were always clean, everything always worked – light bulbs, all the faucets, urinals, showers – and there were always too many mirrors around that somehow never failed Eddie to feel like he was relaxing in a nightclub or a very cheap motel.
Despite the big crew running around, the numerous road cases being pushed up and down, and the uncontrollable chaos of tangled calm professionalism and last-minute intensity that repeated itself every single time they played, he always saw backstage as a place of meditation, reflection and, most importantly, self-scrutiny.
Because, even after all those years, he still got nervous about screwing up in front of thousands of people. Tonight, however, his nerves had very little to do with the show itself. And now you stood in front of him, backstage at Nissan Stadium, and every annoying voice in the back of his head suddenly fell quiet.
The green room – which, ironically, was painted a deep red – didn’t feel nearly as suffocating as it had two hours earlier when he’d arrived far sooner than necessary.
Eddie leaned down and captured your lips again, taking advantage of the fact that he no longer had an audience. The kiss was slow and familiar, comfortable. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your hip as he pulled you a little closer, and a quiet breath escaped you when he finally pulled away.
“How long until you go up there?” you murmured against his lips.
“Fifteen minutes, give or take,” he replied, glancing towards the clock ticking above the door.
“That’s all I need.”
Eddie pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression going completely blank for a second as though you’d somehow managed to short-circuit his brain with four simple words.
“What?”
He blinked rapidly, the meaning finally catching up to him.
You only licked your lips, a mischievous glimmer settling in your eyes. Gently pulling his hands away from your hips, you sank onto your knees and looked up at him.
He wore a black three-quarter-sleeved shirt, tattoos peaking out, stretched across his chest and hugging his arms a little too well for your liking, paired with the same jeans he’d worn yesterday when he’d come by your place. The silver chains hanging from his belt loops and the faded red bandana tucked into his back pocket had become as much a part of Corroded Coffin’s image as the music itself. His grey hair, usually frizzy from humidity and lazy neglect, had been coaxed into perfect curls by someone on his team sometime earlier that evening.
Needless to say, he looked really fucking good as he stood tall above you.
His fingers immediately flew to your hands when you reached for his zipper, stilling your movements as he swallowed a dry lump.
“Wait–” he breathed out, chest already heaving up and down despite the fact you hadn’t done anything just yet. “Bath– Let’s go to the bathroom.”
“No,” you said firm and curtly, and slapped his hand away. “I want you facing the door while I blow you.”
“But–” he cut himself off when he felt you tug down his zipper. He licked his lips with a nervous swipe of his tongue and dragged a hand through his hair. “W-what if they walk in?”
“Not my problem,” you muttered. “You’re the one facing the door, not me.”
You curled your fingers around the elastic band of his boxers, and pulled it down just enough for the fabric to sit tightly under his balls. Slowly trailing your gaze from his pretty cock towards his, you were met with warm, rosy cheeks and helpless blinking eyes staring back.
A large glob of spit fell from your mouth while you kept your eyes glued on his. Eddie twitched when you curled your fingers around his girthy length, spreading the sticky spit up and down. Then, with torturously slow precision, you pulled your mouth open and flicked your tongue against his slit before you wrapped your lips around his aching tip, softly sucking.
Eddie’s hand immediately found the back of your head, heavy rings coiling around your hair as his nails dug into your scalp.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned out, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as his grip on your hair tightened.
But then you mmediately pulled back in one abrupt movement, letting his hard cock slap against his shirt. A broken groan fell from his lips, followed by whimper-y no, no, no’s.
“Keep your eyes on me when I blow you,” you grumbled curtly.
Eddie let go of your hair and dragged his hand through his own, eyes still tightly shut as he bit his lips before he finally found your gaze again.
“S-sorry.”
He felt hot and heavy to the touch when you wrapped your fingers around his dick once again, flicking your wrist in an agonizingly slow pace.
“P-please,” he whimpered, blinking rapidly. “I-I’ll be good. Promise.”
“You do that again and I’ll leave you like this for the whole stadium to see,” you murmured firmly and tilted your head to the side. “Understood?”
A cold shiver ran down his spine as your words reached him. Then, he gave you a soft nod before he bobbed his head up and down in desperation, a soft understood falling from his lips.
His balls, so big and full, and pretty with the white fuzzy hairs coating them, drooped low for you. He begged and gazed down at you with molten brown eyes. Your eyelashes glistened under the warm amber glow of the lights overhead, sweeping your tongue against his slit.
Eddie’s free hand cradled your cheek, warm rings kissing your skin, while his other hand worried at your hair – tugging harshly at your strand, smoothing it down, and repeating the process all over again.
“Jesus,” he choked out, eyebrows furrowed and mouth hanging low.
You pushed down, all the way onto the girthy base until the tip of your nose dipped into the coarse, greying hairs. A broken moan escaped him when he felt your throat flutter around him, drops of spit mixed with pre-cum rolling down the corners of your mouth as you kept him deep in the back of your gummy walls. You spluttered and choked, relishing the way his heavy cock slid in and out of your mouth.
Releasing him, you spit onto his veiny length and slid your hand up and down while you tried to catch your breath. You trailed slick, open-mouthed kisses down his cock until you reached his fuzzy balls. Just like you’d told him to, Eddie kept his eyes glued on you – the way you moved your hand, the way you swirled your tongue against his silky skin, licking fat stripe after fat stripe.
“You taste so good, Eds,” you whispered against him, and trailed kisses where your hand can’t curl around until your lips engulfed his tip for a harsh suck. “I love taking you in my mouth, baby.”
Eddie panted heavily, stroking your face with his trembling hand as broken whimpers continued falling from his plush lips. A shiver ran down his spine when you snaked your free hand under his shirt, soft fingertips threading through the strip of hair that trailed down from his navel to the base of his twitching cock.
You claim him with every suck, every flick of your slick tongue, every shove of his dick all the way to the back of your constricting throat until he bottomed out. His fuzzy balls, heavy with the warm, sticky cum that made your head spin, staggered into your face, slapping against your chin.
“Baby, I-I’m–” he cuts himself off when he comes with a grovelling moan down your throat, bucking desperately into your mouth as he tries his best to keep his eyes on you instead of shutting them closed. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
Eddie’s nails dug in your scalp as he held you there, giving you no choice but to gag around him and take every last drop he had to offer.
When you pulled your mouth off of him, the grip he had on your hair tightened as he pulled you up for a kiss. A muffled groan slipped from him when you parted your lips, pushing his come into his mouth as you brushed your slick tongue against his. You still had a hand curled around his length, refusing to let go of him just yet.
Breaking the kiss, you pulled back just enough for your eyes to trail down his rosy cheeks and molten eyes. With your free hand, you pulled the hem of your skirt up just a bit. Giving his cock a soft tug and ignoring the broken, oversensitive whimpers that fell from him and angled your hips just right – just enough for his twitching cock to slide between your slick folds, coating him in your sticky wetness.
“You feel what you do to me?” you whispered against his lips before pulling him in for another kiss.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, eyebrows pulling into a deep furrow. “Are y– Fuck. Are you not wearing anything under your skirt?”
“Why would I?” You licked your lips, a mischievous glimmer settling in your gaze. “Easier for you to have your way with me after the show, hm?”
His breath hitched in his throat while his teeth worried at his lower lip, cock twitching and painting your clit with the last few drops of cum that spilled from his slit.
You kept your eyes on Eddie’s as you licked your lips and slowly leaned in for another kiss. His free hand found your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed flush against his chest, while he desperately rolled his hips for more friction.
For a moment, he kissed you back without hesitation, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your side as he tasted himself on your tongue, muffled groans spilling from his mouth and into yours.
But just as his ringed hand began to wander towards your ass, a series of hard knocks rattled the door and echoed through the otherwise quiet green room.
“You done fucking your girl, Munson?” Gareth asked from the other side. “We’re late!”
He groaned against your lips, unable to pull away just yet – not when you continued sliding your messy folds along his still hard dick. With one last kiss to his swollen lips, you softly pushed him away, pulled your skirt back down and swiped the corners of your mouth with your thumb.
And then you turned around, barely giving him time to compose himself, and grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open. You shot Gareth and Jeff a sweet smile before brushing past them without a word.
Gareth’s eyes followed you – more composed than he’d expected – for a moment before drifting back to Eddie. The clank of his buckle cut the silence between the three of them while Gareth’s gaze trailed over his pink cheeks, swollen lips and the unmistakably dazed look that refused to leave his eyes.
“Dude,” he breathed out, unable to suppress a laugh. “She’s dangerous.”
Eddie ignored him and simply pulled his zipper up while he brushed past them and walked down the hall, looking for the stagehand that had his earpiece.
AN: sorry for the time skip, I write them out of order, we will be back in pregnancy, it was eventful
Warnings: children, aged-up, surprise but SFW
Eddie carefully rolled over and opened one eye. His little princess slept in a star pose in the middle of the bed. She always crawled into his bed when her mom went on a work trip.
He looked at the clock. An hour of quiet before the gremlins needed to get ready for school.
Eddie still couldn’t believe he’d become the one who wakes cranky children begging for five more minutes, and nags: “Brush your teeth, get dressed, eat your bloody breakfast.”
Needless to say, Damien’s first word was “fuck.” The second time, Eddie was more careful.
He made his coffee and went out on the deck to smoke. Eddie looked over the view — lakeside, forest, beautiful but secluded. Hopper’s ditch was long gone. The house was big and nice; he’d picked it himself. Fangs only cared about forest access. The demobats woke up too and started scratching at the door. He let them out. They got cold within minutes and started scratching to get back in — the little things were clearly getting old. He didn’t know their lifespan.
Eddie took a long drag.
Steve and Robin came for lunch. Eddie made chicken pie. And lemon squares.
“Eddie, you look great! Is Dahlia sleeping through the night?” Robin kissed him on both cheeks and immediately reached for a lemon square. Eddie almost slapped her hand but caught himself. Parenting mode off.
“Yeah, four years ago.” He served the food and poured the wine.
“Damn, children grow so fast,” Robin said, digging into her pie.
“Man, you’ve got a lovely nest here — woman, kids.” Steve looked around, taking in the fine balance between chaos and a clear effort to keep things tidy. “Who’d have thought you’d beat me to it?”
“Congratulations on your marriage too, guys.” Eddie smirked.
Steve choked on his wine. Robin patted his back in a very wifely way.
“Thank you, Eddie. It was very kind of Steve to offer his benefits and support when I went back to school — it’s expensive, you know. Our marriage is purely platonic. Well —” she paused, “he has promised to father my children when I’m ready. But only through IUI.”
“That’s fucked up. Spare me the details.” Eddie hid his grin in his glass.
Steve was sweating, pretending choking on the wine was responsible for his red face.
“Must be nice being a stay-at-home dad — all that time to yourself.” Steve couldn’t resist the little pin.
Oh, this is going to be interesting. Robin watched their banter, reaching for another lemon square.
“First of all, I’m not a stay-at-home dad, I’m WT’s manager. I happen to cook because I’m the one who actually eats, and I happen to clean when I have time, and I do laundry cause turned out she’s mostly colorblind…”
“Manager of a woman who does nobody-knows-what.”
“Classified.”
A silence settled over the table. From the kitchen came the sound of demobats crunching on cat food. It can’t be good for them, but for a few days will do.
“Too bad she’s away — I was hoping to see her,” Robin said, rescuing the conversation. “You really must visit us in San Francisco. You’d love it.”
“We might make it to California next breeding season. She should be back tomorrow, if things go smoothly.” Eddie was quietly worried — the government work was dirty, but it paid well, came with good benefits, and provided cover for children with unusual features.
They ate, drank, took jabs at each other, and had just started a board game when the school bus pulled into the driveway.
“We’re home! I’m hungry and she bit a boy!” The kids burst in. Damien was a three-quarter-size copy of Eddie — same face, fangs, small black claws, and broad leathery wings. Dahlia looked like a perfectly normal little girl, apart from her gleaming red eyes.
“You get it guys? D&D?”
Steve and Robin exchanged looks.
He’s an idiot. — A lucky one.
“How many times do I have to tell you to hide the wings?!” Eddie grabbed the broom. Damien immediately launched himself to the ceiling. Dahlia located the lemon squares and began eating.
Eddie clocked it instantly. “No dessert if you bite people! Steve, Robin — little help.” He handed the broom to Steve. “Get him down.”
Robin sat with Dahlia to support Eddie’s argument of not choosing violence, as counselors recommended.
“Are these yours or did you raid Eddie’s garage?” Steve cornered Damien into losing the wings and running to his room.
“His stuff’s embarrassing. I do industrial — that’s real music, not stupid riffs.”
Steve surveyed the two electric guitars and the Korg Triton responsible for the kind of noise that could drive even Eddie to the edge.
“Kid, you are tubular.”
“What does that even mean? Get lost, and tell Dad to feed me before I snack on you, Elvis.”
“That’s not Elvis —” Steve gestured to his still gorgeous hair. “Know your classics.” He retreated with dignity. Eddie was already brushing Dahlia’s wild hair while she worked through the last of the lemon squares.
“Three-quarters devil is hungry. Do something, man.
In the evening, Steve put his key in the car door, then stopped and turned to Robin.
“The IUI thing — if we do it now, you’d have time to graduate before the baby comes. What do you think?”
PS: this is my 100th post, batties, love you all, so grateful people love my WT and their wild ride.
this is chapter two, click here for series masterlist
description: you move to hawkins expecting small town boredom, not eddie munson and government conspiracies. after living in what feels like a john hughes movie, you start realizing hawkins might not just be another fresh start. it might be connected to you in ways you never could’ve imagined.
pairing: eddie x lab experiment!reader (fem!reader)
tags: eddie x reader, reader insert, dual povs, friends to lovers, slice of life, new girl in hawkins, 80s nostalgia, grief themes, exploring readers backstory in the montauk lab, virgin!eddie x virgin!reader, high school fluffy smut, trauma bonding, mystery/thriller elements, reader has a tragic backstory unfortunately, hurt/comfort, another teenager the wheelers' have to feed
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact, abusive/toxic parental figure, grief/loss of a parent, bullying, mentions of death/murder, allusions to SA
WC: 12.1k (worth it, i promise)
A/N: hihihi im so excited to get part 2 out!! this story is my baby, and im so happy to share it with you all:))
reblogs are always appreciated <33
enjoy loves xoxo
What?" Nancy asked, immediately reaching for your wrist. "What are you talking about?"
You held your arm out before anyone could stop you. The tattoo itself wasn't anything special, a simple design your mom had drawn years ago, but beneath it, faint enough that you normally forgot it was there, was the outline of an old number.
"This," you said quietly. "My mom had this tattooed over a number that was already there when she found me."
The room fell silent.
Steve frowned. "Found you?"
You swallowed hard.
"What does that mean?"
Instinctively, your eyes found Eddie's. He was already looking at you, concern written all over his face. Without saying anything, he stepped closer and took your hand, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made your chest ache.
And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you told them everything. Montauk. Your birth mother. Being found by the police. The adoption. Dan. All the questions you'd spent years pushing to the back of your mind because you never thought you'd actually get answers.
Nobody interrupted. Nobody cracked a joke. By the time you finished, your throat was raw, and your cheeks were wet with tears you hadn't even realized were falling. The silence that followed felt suffocating.
Then the lights above you flickered. Once. Twice. Three times.
Mike's eyes immediately snapped toward the ceiling before settling back on you. "Okay," he said carefully. "Just take a breath. Do you remember anything from before your mom found you?"
You squeezed your eyes shut and tried. You reached for something, anything. A memory, a face, a voice. There was something there, buried deep enough that you couldn't quite grasp it.
Then suddenly…Pop. The light bulb above your head exploded. You jumped so hard you nearly stumbled backward. Eddie's arm immediately wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you against his side before any glass could hit you.
"Guys, stop," he snapped, looking around the room. "Can somebody tell her what's happening?"
You looked from face to face, your pulse pounding harder with every passing second.
"I don't understand," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "You guys know what the numbers mean?"
Nobody answered right away, and that was an answer enough. Eddie looked down at the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again.
"Yeah," he admitted quietly.
The word hit you like a punch, and you pulled away from him immediately.
"What?"
"You need to—"
"You knew?" you interrupted. "You knew last night?"
His jaw tightened. You could tell from his face that he'd been dreading this exact moment.
"You knew, and you didn't tell me?"
"You weren't ready—"
"Oh, and I am now?"
The panic you'd been barely holding together finally cracked wide open. Nothing about Hawkins had made sense since you'd arrived. People whispered about your house. Half the town acted as if something horrible had happened there. People disappeared. People died. And apparently some of them came back.
Now light bulbs were exploding whenever you got upset, and everyone around you was acting like it was completely normal.
"No," you said, shaking your head. "No, somebody needs to explain what the hell is going on right now."
Another bulb burst overhead; the sound made several people flinch. You laughed once; a sharp, hysterical sound that didn't even feel like it came from you.
"Seriously? Look at this! People go missing, and nobody explains it. Everybody acts weird whenever I ask questions. Every time I think I'm getting answers, somebody tells me half a story and expects me to just accept it."
Another light flickered violently.
"What kind of town is this?"
Pop. The bulb shattered.
You threw your hands into the air. "And now the damn lights are exploding over my head!"
The room plunged into chaos for a second as several people started talking at once. Before you could spiral any further, Eddie stepped in front of you and gently grabbed both of your shoulders.
"Hey." You barely heard him.
"Hey." This time his voice was firmer.
Your eyes finally found his. Immediately, some of the panic eased. Not much, but just enough.
"Breathe for me," he said quietly.
You took a shaky breath.
"Again."
Another.
His hands stayed steady on your shoulders the entire time, grounding you when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control. Slowly, the flickering stopped and the room settled. Nobody spoke for a moment. Finally, Mike cleared his throat.
"Okay," he said. "This is probably going to sound insane."
You let out a weak laugh. "Probably?"
A few people smiled despite themselves. Mike grabbed a whiteboard from the corner of the room and dragged it toward the couch.
"Oh my God," you muttered.
"Trust me, that's everyone's reaction."
You dropped onto the couch, exhaustion replacing the adrenaline that had been carrying you for the last ten minutes. Eddie sat beside you immediately, his leg pressed against yours like he was worried you might bolt. The rest of the group settled around the room, and suddenly it felt less like a conversation and more like some bizarre intervention.
Mike uncapped a marker. "Okay. So. This is Eleven."
He gestured toward El now at the bottom of the stairs.
"Top-secret government experiment. Psychic powers. Number tattoo."
You stared at him, and he stared back. Nobody laughed. Nobody told you they were joking.
"Oh, good," you said flatly. "We're starting there."
"The government was running experiments on kids. They were numbered rather than called by name. The program started with One and went through Eleven."
Slowly, your gaze drifted down toward your wrist.
"Exactly," Mike said.
You immediately hated that response. "That's not concerning at all."
"It gets worse," Dustin supplied.
"Dustin."
"What? It does."
Mike rubbed his temples before continuing. "The point is, El has powers."
"Okay." You pointed at her. "So when you say powers..."
"Psychic powers," Mike clarified.
"Like moving things with her mind."
You blinked and looked around at the stern faces of the group surrounding you. "Oh, we're being serious."
"Unfortunately." Robin's answer did not help.
Mike continued before you could ask another question. "A few years ago, a creature came through from another dimension."
You buried your face in your hands. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
You looked up. "Another dimension?"
"It's called the Upside Down," Will explained quietly from across the room. The look on his face told you he wished it wasn't real, too. "It's basically Hawkins."
He hesitated. "Just... wrong."
A chill ran down your spine. "Okay." You nodded slowly. "Hate that."
"Everybody hates that," Steve assured you.
Mike drew something on the board. "And now we have Vecna."
You groaned. "Of course his name is Vecna."
"See? She's catching on already," Dustin said.
"Not helping."
Mike ignored all of them. "We tried stopping him."
You frowned. "We?"
Immediately, Steve sat forward. "Oh, absolutely not."
Dustin visibly winced, and Nancy crossed her arms. "What do you mean 'we'?"
Mike looked like he wanted to disappear.
"You didn't."
"Oh, we did."
"You went after Vecna by yourselves?" Steve asked.
The room exploded.
"You what?" Nancy demanded.
"We thought we could handle it!"
"You thought wrong!"
"We didn't want to worry anybody!"
"You let children fight an interdimensional monster alone?"
"Guys," Mike tried.
Nobody listened.
Steve and Nancy were fully in parent mode now, while Dustin, Lucas, and Mike looked like kids who'd just gotten caught setting something on fire.
"Guys!" Dustin finally shouted loud enough to cut through the argument.
Everyone stopped, and he pointed directly at you. "Look at her."
The entire room turned. You were sitting frozen on the couch, staring straight ahead. Honestly, you weren't even sure what planet you were on anymore. Government experiments. Psychic children. Alternate dimensions. Demogorgons? Vecna?
You had moved to Hawkins less than a month ago and somehow discovered hell was real.
Dustin immediately crouched in front of you. "Hey."
You blinked.
"Hey."
Another blink.
"Still with us?"
"Barely."
You rubbed your forehead. "I'm still stuck on the powers thing."
The room exchanged looks, then Dustin grinned. You immediately didn't trust that grin.
"What?"
He pointed at Eleven. "Not just her." Your stomach dropped as the grin got wider.
"Dustin."
"Not just her."
The room fell silent again. Slowly, he pointed at you. "You."
You stared at Dustin, then at Eleven, then back at Dustin. The room suddenly felt too bright.
"What do you mean, me?" you asked weakly.
Dustin nodded. "You."
You let out a short laugh, not because it was funny. Because it was so completely ridiculous that your brain didn't know what else to do with it. "No."
The word came out almost automatically. "No, that's insane."
"Trust me, we know how it sounds," Mike said.
"No, you don't understand." You sat back against the couch cushions and shook your head. "I can't have powers. I would've known if I had powers."
A few people exchanged looks, which wasn't exactly the response you wanted. Mike crouched beside Dustin, resting his elbows on his knees.
"The lights," he said gently.
You frowned. "What about them?"
"The four light bulbs you've exploded in the last ten minutes."
"...okay."
"And El lost her powers before," Mike continued. "For a while she couldn't do any of this stuff anymore. Just because you don't know how to use them doesn't mean they're not there."
"I still don't understand something," you said quietly, turning back toward Mike. "If El has powers, then why wasn't she able to stop Vecna?"
Immediately, Eleven looked down at her hands. "One wasn't enough," she said softly.
Before you could ask what that meant, Dustin jumped in. "But two?" A grin spread across his face. "Two is excellent."
"Dustin."
"What? It is."
He pointed between you and El as if he'd just solved world hunger. "We got one superpowered psychic girl. Vecna wins." He pointed at El. "We get two superpowered psychic girls?"
He pointed between both of you. "Vecna gets his ass kicked."
"Dustin," Lucas sighed.
"What? That's the simplified version."
"Very simplified," Mike muttered.
Despite everything, a few people laughed. You didn't; you were still trying to process the fact that apparently you had psychic abilities. The fact that everyone else had already accepted it wasn't helping.
Nancy leaned forward slightly. "Can I ask something?"
You looked up, and she hesitated for a second before gesturing toward your wrist. "The number."
Your stomach tightened.
"What was it?"
Slowly, you looked down at your arm. Even beneath the newer tattoo, you could still make out pieces of it if you looked hard enough. Three numbers. Three zeros.
"000."
For a second, nobody said anything. Then—
"Patient Zero!" Dustin practically shot out of his seat.
"Dustin," several people said at once.
"What?" he asked defensively. "That's literally what that means."
"Dude."
"I'm just saying!"
You stared at him, and he stared back. "...sorry."
"Thank you."
He immediately sat back down. Beside you, Eddie reached for your hand. You hadn't even realized you were shaking until his fingers laced through yours. "Hey."
"You okay?"
The answer was obviously no. But the fact that he was asking anyway made something ache in your chest. You let out a shaky breath. "I don't know."
"Fair."
A weak smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "My head was spinning for weeks when I found out about all this."
You leaned back into the couch. "How am I supposed to just... go home after this?"
The question slipped out before you could stop it. "Seriously. What if my mom knows something? What if she doesn't? What if she's been lying to me my whole life?"
Eddie squeezed your hand. "I don't think she knows. The police found you, right?"
You nodded.
"They called your mom."
Another nod.
"If those government assholes wanted you back, they would've come and gotten you."
The certainty in his voice helped more than it probably should have. You thought about it for a moment. Then slowly turned toward Eleven. "Is that what happened to you?"
Her expression darkened slightly. After a second, she nodded. You couldn't even imagine what that must've been like. Eventually, Dustin clapped his hands together loudly enough to make everyone jump.
"Okay!"
Every head turned toward him.
"First order of business."
"Dustin—"
"Nope. Important."
He pointed at you dramatically.
"We need answers."
You frowned. "What kind of answers?"
"Answers about Montauk. Answers about the lab. Answers about whatever happened before your mom found you."
The pit in your stomach immediately returned. "And how exactly are we supposed to get those?"
Dustin's grin widened, and he pointed toward Eleven. You followed his finger.
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
"Why do I hate that look?"
"Because it's usually followed by something weird."
"Usually?" Steve asked.
"Okay, always."
Eleven stood from her chair and crossed the room toward you. You watched as she stopped directly in front of the couch. Without saying a word, she lifted one hand and gently pressed a finger against your forehead. Then she touched another finger to her own.
You blinked. "...what does that mean?"
Eleven looked toward Mike, and Mike immediately stepped forward. "It means she thinks she can find your memories."
"I'm sorry?"
He smiled nervously. "Yeah, we probably should've started with that part."
Before you could ask another question, Mike turned and headed toward the far corner of the room. You watched him curiously as he grabbed the edge of a large tarp draped over something on the floor. Then he pulled it back.
You blinked. There was a kiddie pool underneath, just a regular plastic kiddie pool filled with water. You looked at the pool, then at Mike, then back at the pool.
"Absolutely not."
Dustin sighed dramatically. "See? This is why we should've started with the explanation."
"You think?" you asked.
Mike rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, it looks weird."
"It looks insane."
"Fair."
You pointed at the pool. "That's a kiddie pool."
"Correct."
"In a basement."
"Also correct."
"Filled with water."
"Still correct."
You stared at him. "I hate every answer you're giving me."
"This helps El access what we call the Void."
You frowned. "The Void?"
"It's kind of a mental space," Mike explained. "When she's in there, she can see people. Memories. Places."
Eleven rose from her seat and crossed the room. She stopped beside the pool like this was a perfectly normal thing to have sitting in a basement, and honestly, at this point, you were beginning to realize your definition of normal and everyone else's were wildly different.
Mike handed her a pair of blacked-out goggles. You watched as she climbed into the water without hesitation. No complaints. No questions, like she'd done this a hundred times before. Which, judging by everyone else's reactions, she probably had.
Your eyes darted around the room. "Oh, this is happening."
"It is," Dustin confirmed.
You groaned. A moment later, something soft landed in your lap, and you looked down. A blindfold. Immediately, your head snapped toward Dustin.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
You held up the blindfold. "Why do I need this?"
"Because if El's looking through your memories, you need to relax."
"That's your explanation?"
"It's the simplified version."
"Dustin."
"It's the only version I have."
You dropped your head back against the couch. "This is insane."
"Correct," Steve said.
"Extremely insane," Robin added.
"Yet somehow one of the less insane things we've done," Max chimed in.
Slowly, you looked toward Eddie. Unlike everyone else, he wasn't laughing. He was watching you carefully, immediately noticing the panic beginning to creep back into your expression.
"You don't have to be scared." The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten.
You let out a shaky breath. "I think I've earned a little fear today."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Fair."
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The rest of the room faded into the background. You hated how quickly you'd started looking for him whenever things got overwhelming. You hated even more that it worked.
"You'll be here?" you asked quietly.
His expression softened immediately. "The whole time." You searched his face for even a second of hesitation; there wasn't any. "I promise."
Eddie shifted on the couch and patted his thigh. "Come here."
You hesitated for a second before moving closer. He took the blindfold from your hands and gently helped you lie back, your head settling against his lap. One of his hands immediately found yours while the other carefully tied the blindfold around your eyes.
Your heartbeat immediately picked up. "Eddie."
"I'm right here."
The answer came instantly, not even a second of delay. You tightened your grip on his hand, and he squeezed back. "Told you."
You felt his fingers brush a loose strand of hair away from your face before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You're gonna be okay," he murmured.
Somewhere off to your left, you heard the faint slosh of water, someone moving, someone whispering. Then, static. Soft at first, barely audible. The familiar crackle of a radio turning on somewhere in the room. The sound echoed through the darkness behind your blindfold, and suddenly every nerve in your body was awake.
You couldn't see anything. Couldn't move, couldn't do much of anything except listen and wait.
The radio static grew louder. For a few seconds, it was the only thing you could hear; then it disappeared. Silence swallowed everything. You blinked, and the basement was gone. The couch was gone. Eddie's lap was gone.
There was no floor beneath your feet, no walls around you, no ceiling overhead. Just endless darkness stretching in every direction like someone had switched off the entire world.
Your heart immediately started racing. "Hello?"
"Guys?" Nothing.
You turned in a slow circle, still nothing. "I don't think this worked—"
A hand landed lightly between your shoulder blades, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Spinning around, you found Eleven standing behind you.
"Oh, my God." Your hand flew to your chest. "Do you always do that?"
She simply stared at you.
"Where are we?"
Eleven lifted a finger and gently tapped your forehead. "Here."
You frowned. "That's not helpful."
Her expression didn't change. You were beginning to suspect she found everyone's confusion mildly entertaining. A little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before she reached for your hand.
"Close your eyes."
You hesitated. "Why?"
"Memory."
That was apparently all the explanation you were getting. You sighed. "Everybody in Hawkins is terrible at explaining things."
Eleven tilted her head. Then, very seriously, she said, "Yes."
You actually laughed. The sound echoed through the darkness. For a second, some of the fear disappeared, and Eleven squeezed your hand. "Think."
You nodded. "About what?"
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said softly, "Your earliest memory."
The words settled heavily in your chest. Earliest memory. You weren't even sure what that was. Most of your childhood felt normal. School. Birthdays. Family vacations. Saturday mornings watching cartoons with your dad. But if there was something before all of that… Something hidden... You'd never gone looking for it.
Slowly, you closed your eyes. You thought about home. About being little. About the first thing you could remember. The darkness shifted. The air around you changed. And when you opened your eyes again, you weren't standing in the Void anymore.
You were standing in your childhood bedroom.
Your breath caught. The walls were exactly the same. The faded posters. The bookshelf overflowing with books and stuffed animals. The dolls scattered carelessly across the floor. Even the tiny scratch on your dresser was still there. It looked so real you almost forgot it wasn't.
For a moment, you simply stared. Then you slowly crossed the room. "Whoa."
Eleven's voice came from beside you. You glanced over to find her looking around with quiet curiosity.
"What's this place?"
"My room."
You picked up one of the dolls from the floor and turned it over in your hands. "I grew up here."
The realization felt strange. You hadn't thought about this room in years, not really. The memory wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Safe. Comfortable. Familiar. Then suddenly, the bedroom door burst open, and you froze.
A man rushed into the room carrying a giggling little girl upside down over his shoulder. Your breath caught immediately. You knew that laugh. You knew that voice. Knew the way he smiled. The way he walked. The way he always pretended to be more dramatic than any situation required.
"Dad."
The word escaped before you could stop it. The little girl—you, several years younger— shrieked with laughter as he spun her around the room like an airplane.
"Faster!" she demanded.
"I'm already breaking several speed limits!"
"You can go faster!"
"That's exactly what a tiny reckless person would say."
You couldn't take your eyes off the memory; the sight of him felt like someone reaching into your chest and squeezing your heart. "Yeah."
Your voice came out barely above a whisper. "That's my dad."
For a moment, you simply stood there and watched. Because for the first time since all of this started, you weren't seeing government labs or missing memories or mysterious numbers. You were seeing home.
Eddie's POV
This was exactly what I was trying to avoid.
Ever since all this Upside Down bullshit started again, I'd been telling myself there had to be a finish line somewhere. One day we'd kill the monsters, save the world, whatever heroic crap Hawkins seemed determined to throw at us, and then maybe life could finally settle down.
Then she showed up, and suddenly normal didn't seem impossible anymore. It was ridiculous, honestly. I'd known her for what? A few weeks? Not nearly enough time to be imagining futures. But I did anyway.
I imagined taking her out on terrible dates and pretending they were romantic. Driving around Hawkins with nowhere to be. Listening to her complain about this town while secretly becoming part of it. Watching her graduate. Watching her leave for college.
Hell, maybe I'd finally figure out what I was doing too. Maybe she'd go off to school while I learned a trade. Maybe we'd leave Hawkins behind altogether. Maybe we'd end up back in New York one day. The point was, when I looked at her, I saw a future, a real one.
Not monsters. Not death. Not another apocalypse. Just life. Which was exactly why this sucked so much. Of all the towns she could've moved to, she had to end up here. Of all the secrets buried underneath Hawkins, somehow she was tangled up in them too. I hated it.
Not because she didn't deserve answers; she deserved every answer we could possibly give her. But I knew what happened to people who got dragged into this world. Nobody walked away untouched.
"She's in."
Eleven's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced toward the pool before looking back down at the girl stretched across my lap. The blindfold covered her eyes, but I could still see the tension in her face. Even asleep, or whatever the hell this was, she looked overwhelmed.
Could I really blame her?
Twenty-four hours ago she was worried about normal teenage problems. Now she was finding out she might've been part of a government experiment involving psychic powers and alternate dimensions. Yeah, that'd about ruin anybody's week.
Without thinking, I ran my fingers through her hair again. Maybe it comforted her. Maybe it comforted me. At this point, I wasn't sure.
Across the room, Dustin was staring at the whiteboard like a mad scientist. Nancy looked seconds away from biting through her fingernails. Robin kept pretending not to be worried while very obviously being worried. The whole room felt tense.
Nobody was saying it out loud, but everybody was thinking it. Please let this help. Please let her be okay. Then suddenly her grip tightened around my hand, hard.
"Dad!"
The word ripped out of her so suddenly that the entire room froze. My stomach dropped. Jesus. Whatever memory she was seeing, it wasn't just a memory; she was reliving it.
A second later, tears slipped out from beneath the edge of the blindfold. My chest tightened painfully. Without thinking, I brushed them away with my thumb. She didn't react, didn't even seem to notice. More tears followed.
Whatever Eleven had found, she was completely lost inside it. And all I could do was sit there and watch. That was the part I hated most. The helplessness.
Give me a bat. Give me a monster. Give me something with claws and teeth, and I'll figure it out. But this? Watching her cry while I sat there completely useless? Watching whatever happened before I met her tear her apart? That was somehow worse.
My grip tightened around her hand. "You've got me, sweetheart," I murmured quietly, brushing another tear from her cheek. "You've got me."
She twitched slightly against my lap, still trapped somewhere inside her own memories. And all I could do was hope she'd find her way back.
Your POV-
This was the last day you ever saw him, the realization hit so suddenly it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. You sank to your knees in the middle of the bedroom floor, tears blurring your vision as you watched the memory play out in front of you.
"Again!" your younger self demanded through a fit of giggles. "Again!"
Your dad laughed, already sounding exhausted. "One more time, sweet pea," he said, scooping you up into his arms. "Then I have to go to work."
You cheered anyway. He carried you around the apartment one last time, making airplane noises while your younger self laughed so hard she could barely breathe.
For a moment, everything else disappeared. The lab. The numbers. Hawkins. The Upside Down. None of it mattered. You were just watching your dad again.
Then a hand settled gently on your shoulder; you looked up to find Eleven standing beside you. There was something sad in her expression.
"We have to go back further," she said quietly.
You frowned. "What?"
"Deeper."
The word echoed in your chest. You looked back toward your dad one last time, toward the last truly happy memory you had of him. Then you closed your eyes, and the apartment dissolved around you. When you opened them again, you were still standing inside your childhood home.
But something was different. The walls. The furniture. The feeling. Everything felt older.
"We're still here," you said quietly, looking around the room. "Just... later." Then—
Bang. The noise made both of you jump. Another followed. Your stomach immediately twisted.
No.
Across the room sat a bed. And lying asleep beneath the blankets was a teenage girl. You. A few years older, a few years sadder. The second you saw the room, you knew exactly which memory this was. And you wanted out, immediately.
"Eleven." Your voice came out strained. "We need to leave."
She looked at you, confused.
"We have to go somewhere else."
Panic began building in your chest, fast.
"Please."
The bedroom door opened, and you froze. "No."
Your younger self stirred awake, confused, half asleep. Completely unaware of what was coming.
"Please," you whispered.
The memory continued anyway. Because memories didn't stop just because you begged them to. You turned away; you couldn't watch. Simply couldn't do it.
Years of trying to bury this memory. Years of pretending it never happened. Years of working to forget. And somehow it was all still here, waiting.
"Eleven."
Your voice cracked. "We have to go. Right now." But before either of you could move, the memory began to unravel around you.
Eddie's POV
"Guys, this is taking a really long time." My voice came out louder than I intended. Across the room, Dustin immediately looked up from his whiteboard.
"Shh!"
I rolled my eyes. "Dude, I've been whispering for twenty minutes."
"And yet somehow you're still the loudest person in the room."
I opened my mouth to argue, but Dustin pointed at me. "Don't."
I shut my mouth. Mostly because I was pretty sure he'd find a way to kick me out of the room if I pushed him. My attention drifted back down to the girl stretched across my lap.
She'd been moving almost nonstop since Eleven entered her memories. Every few seconds her face would twitch, or she'd tighten her grip around my hand like she was reacting to something only she could see. I hated it. Not knowing what was happening. Not knowing what she was seeing. Not knowing if any of this was helping or hurting.
"Hey."
I looked up. Steve was crouching beside the couch. At some point, he'd grabbed a chair and flipped it around backward, leaning his arms across the backrest.
"How you holding up?"
I laughed quietly. Not because anything was funny. Mostly because if I didn't laugh, I might start screaming. "Oh, fantastic."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I gestured vaguely toward the room.
"The girl I've known for, like, a week turns out to be involved in our very real Dungeons & Dragons nightmare; she's currently unconscious in my lap while a psychic girl searches through her memories, and apparently the fate of the world depends on what happens next."
I paused. "Living the dream, Harrington."
A snort escaped Steve before he quickly covered his mouth. Across the room, Dustin glared at both of us. We immediately looked away.
Steve's expression softened. "I know." The joking disappeared from his voice. "I know this sucks."
That was the thing about Steve. A few years ago I'd probably have told him to shove it. Now? Now I knew when he was being genuine. And he was.
"The last thing I wanted was for her to get dragged into this," he continued quietly. "Hell, the last thing I wanted was for any of us to get dragged back into this."
I looked down at her again. At the blindfold. The tears that had dried on her cheeks. The way her fingers still refused to let go of mine.
"Yeah." My chest tightened. "Me too."
For a moment neither of us said anything. Then Steve reached over and squeezed my shoulder. "She's lucky to have you, man."
I immediately made a face. "Oh, gross."
Steve laughed. "I'm serious."
"Stop."
"You're a good guy."
"Steven."
"I'm just saying."
I groaned. Steve stood up, grinning. "Just saying."
Then he disappeared back toward the others before I could throw something at him. For a few minutes, everything was quiet again. Then suddenly her body jerked, and my attention snapped back down.
Her grip tightened around my hand. Hard. "No..."
The word came out strained, almost desperate. A second later, another tear slid out from beneath the blindfold. "No, please..."
She sounded terrified, completely terrified. I immediately brushed the tear away.
"It's okay," I whispered.
Not that she could hear me, or maybe she could. Hell, I had no idea how any of this worked. But I kept talking anyway.
"I'm right here."
Her head shifted against my lap, and another tear followed. Then another. Suddenly she cried out. "No! We have to go!"
The entire room froze. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. "Get off her!"
The words tore out of her. Whatever she was seeing, whatever memory she'd found, it was bad. Really bad. Without thinking, I squeezed her hand harder.
"I'm here," I whispered. "Come on, sweetheart."
For a second, her fingers tightened around mine. Then everything stopped, completely. Her body went still. Not relaxed, still. The kind of stillness that immediately makes your heart drop. I sat upright.
"Eddie?" Nancy's voice sounded nervous.
"I know." I was already staring. The room had gone silent.
Then, she gasped, a sharp, sudden breath. And a thin stream of blood slid from her nose.
"Oh, shit." I sat forward immediately. "Guys."
Everybody was already moving. Robin stood. Nancy rushed closer. Steve abandoned his chair. Even Mike looked alarmed. Only Dustin seemed excited. Which honestly should've concerned me more than it did.
"Dustin," I warned.
He pointed dramatically toward the blood. "Eddie."
"Dustin."
His grin widened. "Dude."
I stared at him, then looked back down at her, then back at him. And suddenly my stomach dropped for an entirely different reason. "No way."
Dustin slapped a hand onto my shoulder, a huge grin spread across his face. "Yes way, brother."
I looked down at her again. At the blood. At the perfectly still expression on her face. At the girl who'd shown up in Hawkins completely unaware that her entire life was about to change. And for the first time, I realized Dustin might actually be right. She really did have powers.
Your POV-
You stood frozen in the middle of the white room. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly. Every surface was spotless. Clinical. Cold. The little girl sat at the metal desk without moving, dressed in white pajamas that looked more like a uniform than anything a child should be wearing.
Beside you, Eleven stared at her with an unreadable expression. "This is it," she said quietly.
You frowned. "This is what?"
She nodded toward the little girl, and you followed her gaze. "Who is that?"
Eleven looked at you. "You."
The answer hit like a punch to the chest. You turned back toward the child. "No."
But even as you said it, you knew. There was something familiar about her. Something in the shape of her face. The way she sat. The way she watched the room around her.
"What is this place?"
You crossed to the door and grabbed the handle. Locked, of course it was. You rattled it anyway. Slowly, you turned back toward the little girl. She hadn't moved; her eyes remained fixed on the door. Completely focused and completely still.
"Can she see us?" You waved a hand in front of her face. Nothing.
Eleven shook her head. "No."
The little girl continued staring, then her expression changed. A slight squint, a tightening of her jaw. The air in the room seemed to shift. Your pulse quickened. And suddenly, the door exploded off its hinges.
You stumbled backward with a gasp. The little girl didn't react. Didn't smile. Didn't celebrate. She simply stood from her chair and stepped over the twisted metal like she'd done it a hundred times before.
"Come on," Eleven said. She was already moving, so you hurried after them.
The hallway beyond looked like a hospital. Except hospitals weren't supposed to feel this frightening. The walls stretched endlessly in both directions. Small windows lined the doors on either side, and behind every piece of glass stood another child. Watching, waiting.
The moment the little girl appeared, they rushed toward the windows. Dozens of faces. Dozens of children. Some younger. Some older. All staring at her. At you.
The little girl lifted a hand. Every door in the hallway burst open at once. Metal screeched. Locks shattered. Children flooded into the corridor.
Your heart hammered in your chest. "What is happening?"
Eleven didn't answer. An alarm suddenly erupted overhead. Red lights flashed, and the children began running. Then came the shouting. Heavy boots thundered down the hallway.
A group of armed guards appeared around the corner. Behind them strode a woman with short red hair and a white lab coat. Unlike everyone else, she wasn't running. She looked annoyed, almost bored.
"Let's all calm down," she called.
The children ignored her, and the woman sighed. Then her eyes landed on the little girl. On you.
"Zero." The hallway went silent, and the woman gestured calmly. "Back to your room."
The little girl didn't move. The other children gathered behind her. Waiting. Watching. Following.
The woman sighed again. "Zero."
The little girl slowly turned. For a second, nothing happened. Then she lifted her hand. The guards never reached her. The force of the explosion from the child sent them flying backward. Bodies crashed into walls. The hallway erupted into chaos. Children cheered.
The woman disappeared from sight. And suddenly the entire group was running. Toward the exit. Toward freedom. Toward anywhere but this place.
Your jaw dropped, and you stared after them. Then slowly turned toward Eleven.
"What..." Your voice barely worked. "What did I just see?"
Eleven looked at you. For once, there was no hesitation in her expression. "You were powerful."
You shook your head. "No." Your chest tightened. "That wasn't..."
You looked back toward the little girl disappearing down the hallway, toward the child who apparently shared your face. Your number. Your past.
"That was me?"
Eleven gave a small nod. The hallway dissolved instantly, the floor vanished, and the lights disappeared. Everything collapsed into darkness. Then—
You shot upright with a gasp. Air rushed painfully into your lungs. Your hands clawed at the blindfold, tearing it away as the basement came rushing back into focus. The couch. The lights. The radio. Everyone.
For a split second, you couldn't tell which reality was real.
"Hey, hey, hey." Strong arms wrapped around you immediately. "It's okay."
Eddie.
"It's okay."
You grabbed onto him without thinking. His shirt. His jacket. His arms. Anything you could reach. Your entire body shook.
"I've got you." The words were muffled against your hair. "I'm right here."
The room was moving around you. People talking. Footsteps. Questions. None of it made sense. Your eyes found Eleven. Mike was helping her out of the pool, wrapping a towel around her shoulders.
She looked exhausted, but she was smiling. And suddenly the question burst out of you before you could stop it. "Was that me?"
Nobody answered, so you asked again. "Was that me?"
The room fell silent. Eleven looked directly at you, then she nodded. A small stream of blood ran from beneath her nose; only then did you realize your own nose was bleeding too. Eleven stepped forward and gently wiped beneath your nose before holding up her finger. Blood. The same blood she'd wiped from her own face moments earlier.
Proof.
You stared at the blood on Eleven's finger, then at the blood on your own hand.
"What does that mean?"
Eleven looked toward Mike. As usual, Mike immediately stepped into explanation mode. "It means you're like her."
Nobody looked particularly excited about that revelation; in fact, everyone looked oddly serious. Mike rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. "It means you can help us stop Vecna."
You blinked. "Help you stop Vecna?"
"Hopefully stop him for good," Dustin added.
You looked around at everyone's faces: The exhaustion, the worry, the fear. They weren't talking about some hypothetical battle. They genuinely believed this was their only chance.
Then suddenly another thought hit you. "Oh, my God." You pushed yourself upright. "What time is it?"
The room collectively blinked. You tried standing, but your legs immediately disagreed. The second your feet hit the floor, your knees buckled.
"Whoa, whoa." Strong hands caught your arms before you could faceplant into the concrete. "Easy there."
"What time is it?" you repeated.
Dustin glanced at his watch. "Ten thirty."
Your jaw dropped. "What?"
You looked around the room. "No. That's not possible."
Nancy offered a sympathetic smile. "You've been under for about two hours."
"Two hours?"
Your voice cracked. "It felt like fifteen minutes."
"Yeah." Max leaned against the wall nearby. "It does that."
You frowned. "What does that mean?"
She shrugged. "The mind stuff."
"The what?"
"The mind stuff."
That was somehow the least helpful explanation you'd received all day. Max noticed your expression and sighed. "Vecna got into my head before."
The room immediately grew quieter. "When I came back, hours had passed."
Your stomach dropped. "Wait."
You looked at her. "He can get inside people's minds?"
Max nodded. The casualness of it was deeply concerning. "Yeah."
"What?"
"Yeah."
"That's insane."
"Correct."
"How are you saying that so casually?"
"Practice."
Fair enough. You rubbed your face. "And he can kill people through that?"
Max's expression darkened. "That's what happened to Chrissy."
The name hit the room like a brick. Slowly, your eyes drifted toward Nancy. "You knew who killed her?"
Nancy and Steve exchanged a quick glance. The kind that immediately told you there was more to the story, a lot more. But thankfully nobody seemed interested in unpacking that right now.
Jonathan cleared his throat from across the room. "Well." Everyone looked over. "It's been a long day."
That might've been the understatement of the century.
"I think I'm gonna head upstairs."
Nancy nodded. "Probably a good idea."
One by one, everyone seemed to reach the same conclusion. The adrenaline was fading, but the exhaustion wasn't.
Max headed toward the stairs. "So am I."
Lucas immediately followed. "Same."
Steve stretched. "I'll drive."
Robin nodded. "Please."
Dustin grabbed his backpack and wandered over toward you. For once, he looked surprisingly sincere. "You did good today."
You laughed weakly. "I cried for two hours."
"Yeah."
He adjusted the straps on his backpack. "But you also found out you have superpowers."
You couldn't really argue with that. He patted your shoulder. "Get some sleep." Then he shot Eddie a meaningful look before disappearing upstairs.
Within minutes the room had mostly emptied. A few final goodbyes, a few promises to check in tomorrow. Then it was just you and Eddie. You followed him outside without really thinking about it.
The cool night air hit your face immediately. For the first time all day, you could breathe, a little. Eddie opened the passenger door of his van and waited.
The drive started in silence. Neither of you seemed particularly eager to unpack the last several hours. Eventually Eddie glanced over. "So."
You let out a laugh. "So."
"Where do you wanna go?"
You stared out the window. The dark roads blurred past. Honestly? You had no idea. Not home. Not the Wheelers'. Not anywhere that required explaining tonight.
You shook your head. "I don't know." Your voice came out smaller than intended. "How am I supposed to understand any of this?"
Eddie was quiet for a moment, then he reached over and rested a hand on your thigh. Like he was reminding you that at least one thing was still real. "I know a place."
Twenty minutes later, the van rolled to a stop beside a narrow dirt road. Trees stretched endlessly in every direction.
You looked around. "Where are we?"
Eddie grinned. "You'll see."
The walk wasn't long, maybe ten minutes. Just enough time for the sounds of civilization to disappear completely. Then the trees opened and your breath caught. The lake stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight. Water shimmered like glass. Fireflies drifted lazily through the air. Frogs croaked somewhere in the distance.
It was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made your chest ache. Eddie stepped onto the dock and sat at the edge, then he held out his hand and you took it. The two of you sat side by side in silence. Everything felt impossibly peaceful compared to the chaos you'd left behind.
"What is this place?"
Eddie smiled softly. "Lover's Lake." You looked around again. The name fit.
"My uncle used to bring me here when I was a kid." His gaze drifted across the water. "We'd fish sometimes."
The smile grew a little. "Mostly we'd just sit here."
You understood why. The silence here felt different. Safe. After a few minutes, Eddie finally spoke again.
"When I met you..." His voice was quiet. You turned toward him. He was staring out at the lake, not at you. Like saying this was somehow easier if he didn't have to watch your reaction.
"When I met you, I wanted to know everything about you." Your chest tightened and Eddie laughed softly. "I know that sounds ridiculous."
"A little."
"Thanks."
"You set yourself up for that one."
That earned a smile, then his expression softened again. "What I'm trying to say is..."
He paused, searching for the words. "I saw something with you."
The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache.
"A future." His eyes finally met yours. "And if I'd known any of this was going to happen..." He gestured vaguely toward Hawkins. Toward Vecna. Toward the lab. Toward all of it.
"I would've done everything I could to keep you away from it."
Your throat tightened. "Eddie—"
"I'm serious."
His eyes glistened slightly in the moonlight. "You've already been through enough."
The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you.
"You didn't ask for any of this." He looked away. "And now you're stuck in it because of us. Because of your stupid boyfriend and his stupid friends."
You stared at him. At the guilt written all over his face. Then suddenly one specific word replayed in your head. You blinked. Wait. Hold on.
You narrowed your eyes. "Eddie."
He frowned. "What?"
A smile slowly tugged at your lips, a very specific smile. "You said something."
His face immediately fell. That was all the confirmation you needed.
You sat up straighter. "Eddie."
"Oh no."
"You said something."
He groaned and you grinned. "Did you call yourself my boyfriend?"
The horrified look on his face was worth every terrible thing that had happened that day. Eddie wiped at his eyes and let out a breathless laugh.
"Seriously?" he asked. "I just poured my heart out, and the only thing you took from all of that was the boyfriend part?"
Despite everything that had happened that day, a laugh escaped you. "Well, it was a pretty important detail."
The tension that had been hanging between you all evening finally cracked. You leaned over and wrapped your arms around him, and he immediately pulled you close.
When you pulled back, you rested a hand against his cheek. "Eddie, stop blaming yourself."
His expression softened. "I'm serious. Whether I met you or not, I still would've moved next to Nancy. I still would've met everyone today. I still would've learned the truth eventually."
You shook your head. "The only difference is that I would've had to go through all of it alone."
His eyes met yours.
"And honestly? I don't think I could have."
The guilt on his face eased slightly.
"You've been there every step of the way. You've helped me more than you realize."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You've helped me too."
You laughed. "Please. Compared to what you've done for me?"
"I'm serious."
He pointed at you. "You make it sound like I'm some kind of hero."
"You kind of are."
"Nope. Absolutely not."
"You are."
"I'm literally sitting on a dock arguing with you."
You smiled. "See? Hero behavior."
That finally earned a genuine laugh from him. "You know..." he said quietly. "There was one thing."
Your smile faded. "What?"
He glanced out across the lake. "When you were with Eleven."
Immediately, you knew. The memories.
"You started talking about your dad."
The ache returned instantly.
"And then..." He hesitated. "I was worried about you."
You folded your knees to your chest and stared out across the water. The lake reflected the moonlight in soft ripples. "It was a lot."
Eddie rolled onto his side and reached for your hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"
For a moment, you weren't sure. "It felt like I was standing in the middle of nowhere."
His fingers tightened around yours.
"Just darkness. Water. Silence."
You stared out at the lake as you spoke.
"Eleven told me to think of my earliest memory." A sad smile crossed your face. "I saw my dad."
Eddie listened without interrupting.
"It was the last day I ever saw him."
The words felt strange spoken aloud. "I tried talking to him, but he couldn't see me. None of them could. It was like I was watching my own life happen from the outside."
"Then Eleven said it wasn't enough. She told me I had to go deeper." The smile disappeared completely. "And everything changed."
You told him about the room. About the locked door. About the little girl. About the shaved head. About the hallway filled with children. About the guards. About the woman in the lab coat. About the impossible power you'd witnessed.
"Do you think you can do it?" Eddie asked.
You looked over. "Do what?"
"Use your powers."
You laughed softly. "I don't even know if I still have them."
"You do."
The certainty in his voice surprised you. "Eddie—"
"You do."
His expression never wavered. "I know you."
You raised an eyebrow. "You've known me for like five minutes."
He ignored that. "You're strong." The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. "Stronger than you think."
You smiled despite yourself. "And somehow I ended up with the best boyfriend in the world."
Immediately, a grin spread across his face. "There it is."
"Oh no."
"There it is."
You rolled your eyes and he pointed at himself. "Boyfriend?"
"Don't start."
"Boyfriend."
You laughed. "You're impossible."
"Say it again."
"Eddie."
"Just once."
“What? That you’re my boyfriend?”
He nods and begins to lean in, “Mhm. I like the sound of that.”
Before you have time to think, strong hands begin to flow through your hair, gripping your head hard as his lips crash into yours.
You melt into the kiss, a mix of tongues and heat as you fall backwards onto the dock. His hands begin to roam every part of your body, your hips, stomach, chest, face, anything he can get ahold of.
Then, he abruptly pulls away, scanning your face. “We should go back to mine before we desecrate this dock.”
You nod eagerly, as he stands, pulling you by the hand through the trail.
Eddie flies down his driveway and barely gets the van in park before he’s hopping out. Your passenger door swings open before you can even unbuckle, and suddenly he’s grabbing you, slinging you over his shoulder with a grin.
He carries you straight into the trailer as you laugh, half-protesting, “You’re gonna hurt yourself!”
He chuckles, low and warm, and tosses you onto the bed. The mattress bounces as he climbs over you, picking up right where you left off on the dock.
You wrap your legs around his hips, fingers sliding into the curls at the back of his head while he rocks against you, slow and teasing. Your breath catches.
He kisses you deeply, then trails his mouth along your cheek, down your neck, and to your shoulder. His hands slip under your shirt, thumbs brushing over your ribs. He pauses, pulling back just enough to look at you.
“You okay?” he asks softly. “If it’s too much, we don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you breathe. “I really want to.”
He gives you a sincere nod. You pull him back down into a hungry kiss, and he takes the cue, tugging your shirt over your head before peeling off his own.
Your palms glide over his stomach and chest, admiring the lean muscle. When your eyes meet, he’s doing the same to you. A smirk tugs at his lips before he leans in and kisses your forehead, then slowly works his way down your body.
He presses soft kisses along your lower stomach as he slides your skirt off. When he stands back for a moment, just staring, you lean up on your elbows.
“What? Never seen a girl naked before?” you tease.
His head snaps to the side as he scratches nervously at his hair. “I have! I mean—shit, that’s not—”
You laugh and roll onto your knees, reaching for his shoulders. “It’s okay,” you murmur, eyes locked on his. “Me too.”
You reach back and unhook your bra, letting it fall. His eyes widen.
“God… you’re perfect.”
You grin and lie back down as his belt buckle jingles, hitting the floor. He fumbles at the nightstand, pulling out a strip of condoms.
“You sure you’ve never done this before?” you laugh.
“Positive. This is just… wishful thinking.”
He tears one open and climbs back over you. The wrapper crinkles, and after a moment, he hovers above you, forehead pressed to yours.
“Ready?”
You nod, one hand cupping his scruffy jaw while the other guides him. The moment he pushes in, you gasp sharply, eyes flying open.
“It’s okay,” he reassures you, voice rough. “We can go slow.”
He moves carefully, sinking in inch by inch until he’s fully seated. A long, shared groan fills the space between you.
“Fuuuck,” he growls into your neck.
He starts gentle, rocking into you with slow, deep thrusts.
But when you moan in his ear, “Faster… please,” he trembles and picks up the pace.
What begins as soft breaths quickly turns into loud, needy moans and whimpers as pleasure sparks through every nerve.
He starts fucking you harder, hips snapping, hands gripping your waist tight. “Oh my fucking god—” you gasp.
“Shit, I’m so close,” he groans.
You grab his face, forcing his eyes to yours. “Me too. Don’t stop.”
He keeps the relentless rhythm until the pressure coils unbearably tight inside you.
Your moans grow wilder, louder, until everything snaps. You cry out as pleasure crashes through you, and every light in the trailer begins to strobe and flicker wildly.
Eddie buries himself deep, groaning as he finishes, panting against your skin. When he finally lifts his head, he looks around in confusion. “What the…”
You close your eyes, take a slow breath, and the lights settle back to normal.
Eddie’s lips curl into a satisfied, slightly cocky smirk. “I did that well, huh?”
You scoff and gently shove his shoulder, then reach for his t-shirt on the floor and slip it on. He sits up, grabbing the collar to pull you in for another kiss.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmurs against your mouth.
You blush and kiss him again. “I’m gonna have a smoke. Come join me when you’re ready.”
He flops onto his back, wiping his face with both hands. “In a sec. Gotta… wash up first.”
You smile, reaching into his jacket pocket for the pack of Camels and a lighter.
You stepped outside and sank onto the trailer steps, pulling your knees against your chest as the screen door creaked shut behind you.
The night air was cool against your skin, a welcome contrast to the suffocating weight that had settled in your chest sometime around the moment you'd learned your entire life was a lie.
For a while, you just sat there staring up at the sky, trying to make sense of everything.
Hawkins had been supposed to be a fresh start. That's what you'd told yourself when your mom packed up the apartment and moved the two of you across the country.
No more memories lurking around every corner. No more reminders. No more constantly looking over your shoulder. Somehow, though, this tiny Indiana town had managed to throw you into something far crazier than anything New York ever had.
You took a long drag from the cigarette between your fingers and tilted your head back, letting your eyes wander across the endless blanket of stars overhead.
There were so many of them here. Back in the city, you'd be lucky to see a handful through all the light pollution, but Hawkins seemed to exist under an entirely different sky.
The sight would've been beautiful under any other circumstance. Tonight, it only made you feel small. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the questions kept circling. Questions you couldn't escape no matter how hard you tried.
Had your father known? Would he have been proud of the person you'd become, or terrified of what you apparently used to be? The image of the little girl in the lab wouldn't leave your head.
The shaved hair. The white room. The doors flying off their hinges. The bodies hitting the floor. Twenty people. Twenty lives ended with the flick of a wrist.
How could something that huge exist inside your past and leave no trace behind? How could you not remember any of it?
The trailer door opened behind you, pulling you from your thoughts. Eddie stepped outside carrying a blanket draped over one arm and a steaming mug in the other.
Without a word, he settled beside you, carefully wrapping the blanket around your shoulders before passing over the coffee. The warmth immediately seeped into your hands. You took a cautious sip and nearly smiled.
"Cinnamon?"
Eddie grinned. "Yeah."
You looked over at him. "How did you know?"
"When we had lunch with your mom the other day, I saw her make it for you. Figured if somebody's adding cinnamon to coffee, it's probably because it's their favorite."
Your chest tightened for reasons that had nothing to do with the coffee. Nobody had paid attention to details like that in a long time. You leaned your head against his shoulder and stared back out at the stars.
Then quietly, Eddie asked, "Are you gonna talk to your mom about it?"
You sighed. The question had been sitting in the back of your mind all night. "I guess."
Your fingers tightened around the mug. "I don't know. Right now, I think I just want one last night before everything changes."
Eddie glanced down at you. "What do you mean?"
You shrugged.
"If I ask her, there's no going back. Either she knows something, or she doesn't. Either way, tomorrow's gonna be different."
He nodded slowly; that seemed to make sense to him. "So tonight?"
You rested your cheek against his shoulder.
"Tonight I just want to sit here."
A small smile appeared on his face. "That's fine too."
The two of you fell back into silence after that. Every now and then you'd pass the cigarette back and forth, watching the smoke disappear into the darkness above the trees.
Time seemed to move differently out there. The world felt paused. No monsters. No government experiments. No psychic powers. Just the sound of crickets, the occasional splash from the lake in the distance, and Eddie's shoulder beneath your head.
At some point, the stars began to fade. You didn't notice immediately. Only when the black sky slowly softened into shades of blue and gold did you realize hours had passed.
You let out a long breath and sat up. "I should probably go home."
Eddie glanced toward the horizon and winced. "Yeah."
Neither of you sounded particularly excited about it.
Inside the trailer, you changed into one of Eddie's oversized Metallica hoodies and a pair of sweatpants he'd dug out of a drawer for you. They practically swallowed you whole, but after the day you'd had, the comfort outweighed the ridiculousness.
By the time you climbed into the passenger seat of his van, the sun was beginning to peek over the trees. Eddie leaned over before starting the engine and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.
"Ready?" You looked over at him. Not even remotely. Still, you nodded.
The drive was quiet. Eddie reached over and clicked on the radio, and a familiar Depeche Mode song filled the cab. Neither of you spoke much after that. There wasn't really anything left to say. Sometimes silence was enough.
When the van finally rolled to a stop at the end of your driveway, your stomach immediately twisted. Dan's car was gone, a good sign. The best sign, honestly.
"You want me to come in with you?"
You smiled softly and shook your head. "No."
"You sure?"
You reached over and squeezed his hand. "I think so."
The concern on his face didn't disappear; it only deepened.
"I'll call you when it's over."
He didn't look convinced. "The second it's over."
"Eddie."
"I'm serious."
You couldn't help laughing. "If things go bad, I'll call."
"If things go good, call."
You rolled your eyes. "Fine."
He finally seemed satisfied.
After grabbing your bag, you leaned across the center console and kissed him. He kissed you back immediately before pulling away, still wearing that worried expression that somehow managed to be both endearing and heartbreaking.
"I'm gonna be okay."
He studied your face for a second before nodding. "The second you're done talking, call me."
"I will."
"You better."
You smiled. "I will."
Reluctantly, he let you go. You climbed out of the van, shut the door behind you, and watched him drive off before finally turning toward the house.
The front door was already unlocked when you reached it. You pushed it open carefully. Immediately, the smell of cinnamon, vanilla, and French toast filled the air. Fleetwood Mac drifted from the kitchen speakers.
For a moment, you were fifteen again. Back in the apartment. Before Dan. Before the fights. Before everything had fallen apart.
Your mom used to do this all the time on weekends. She'd dance around the kitchen singing along to Stevie Nicks without a care in the world, completely lost in the music.
Somehow, walking into the house felt more surreal than stepping into another dimension. "Oh, honey!"
Your mom appeared around the corner, holding a spatula in one hand and a frying pan in the other. A bright smile spread across her face.
"You're home."
The sight of her nearly broke you.
"How was Nancy's? Did you girls have fun?"
You set your bag down beside the table. Your hands were shaking. Your whole body was shaking. Immediately, her smile disappeared. The pan hit the stove. The spatula followed. Within seconds she was crossing the kitchen toward you.
"Sweetheart?"
Concern flooded her face.
"What happened?"
You looked up at her. At the woman who had raised you. The woman who might be holding every answer you'd spent your entire life searching for.
Your throat tightened. "We need to talk."
AGH sorry for the cliff-hanger, tumblr loves to kill my flow with the block count restrictions.
art commissioned from the very talented @tabunierka
Eddie meets his junior year crush at the worst possible moment but she thinks different.
Rating: Explicit / 18+ Only
Warnings: Minors Do Not Interact (MDNI), explicit content, digital stimulation, unprotected intimacy, facial, aftercare, Eddie talks to his dick, the dick talks back), a slightly shy Eddie (but not for long).
AN: loosely based on the event where I met the most handsome man in my life while wearing a boyfriend's sweater and looking miserable.
AN2: Joe actually has normal eyelashes but I think make-up people should’ve given him falsies.
Saturday night you went to your best friend’s birthday party, dancing with your friends till closing time. The birthday girl bought pills from the guy by the pool table — kind of a cute metalhead from the trailer park you grew up in. You would never admit it, but you had a little soft spot for them.
Morning was way less fun. You washed down something for the headache and looked at the disaster in the mirror.
Smudged makeup, messed up hair, strap on your slip dress hanging on its last thread.
You looked in your wardrobe and realized everything was in the laundry basket except your prom dress from two years ago.
You dug deeper and found memories hiding at the bottom. A Megadeth shirt from your long gone ex. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel sad to see it this time — just recalled a few good moments you shared before things went south. You pulled out your middle school panties that said Tuesday, knee socks from that one quarter you tried cheering, and cutoffs from the same era. Small and tight.
Fuck, I’m not wearing that outside.
Yes you are, said the mirror.
Eddie slept in. He went to a club last night, made a good sale and got caught playing pool with some guys. Usually a recipe for disaster, but it turned out fine. He woke up still in his jeans, t-shirt on the floor — he must have thought he’d close one eye for a second and blacked out instead.
His hair was a mess and the tee smelled like a skunk. Okay, he thought. Coffee, cigarette, shower.
It helped. He felt human again and even optimistically checked out his lean torso in the mirror, hips wrapped in a towel. He started mentally lining up all the good things he could do today, opened his drawer and realized it was empty.
Fuck, not this again.
Eddie had missed his laundry day yesterday. He growled at the overflowing basket, sighed and started digging through the other drawers. No underwear. Sweatpants he’d outgrown two years ago, mismatched socks, and there it was, on the very bottom of the last drawer. The green shirt. The one with the “Just Say No” logo. He barely remembered how he’d ended up at a Nancy Reagan anti-drug campaign or why the hell he’d accepted the tee.
What choice do I have? Wrap in a curtain? Wear Wayne’s stuff? No one will see me in the laundry, everyone is either sleeping or at church.
Eddie closed his eyes, put the shirt of shame on, and without looking in the mirror once, gathered his hair into a semi bun, grabbed the basket, and with his Walkman playing Metallica’s new album to fix the day, set sail to the small laundry building in the back of the trailer park.
🧺🧺🧺
The laundry room is small and stripped of any personality — just a few washers and dryers, a small window, a poster with rules on the wall, and a single chair some old lady brought in.
No. No no no fucking no. Is there a person more unlucky on this planet?
In that chair sits the girl he’s been eyeing since his junior year. She’s long gone since then, only coming back to visit her mom sometimes — working in the city, fancy and beautiful. She got away.
Eddie considers running but you look up from your book and say “Hi.”
He freezes. Your clean face with no makeup throws him back to when you used to study in the same school and you were an untouchable senior and he was just a horny teenager.
You still are, dude, says his dick, waking up.
Then he registers your outfit.
Megadeth shirt!?!?!? Tight cutoffs you’ve probably had since middle school, legs grown ten inches longer since. Knee socks that don’t reach your knees anymore. The conclusion is obvious. It’s your laundry day too.
You switch the cross of your legs and return to your reading.
“Interview with the Vampire”. I died last night, this is hell. The girl of my dreams is wearing a Megadeth shirt, reading Anne Rice, and I look like I climbed out of a dumpster. At least I showered.
“Hi,” Eddie mumbles and throws his basket in without separating the colors. He leans on the washer and carefully moves his gaze to you. Ronnie has told him on multiple occasions that his lashes are unfairly long, so he half closes his eyes, pretending to be lost in the music, and watches how a loose lock of your hair caresses your long neck, how your lips part a little when you flip the page impatiently, apparently hitting an intense part, how your nipples peek through the letters of the logo.
Are we doing this, man? His dick goes half hard in three seconds.
No no no we are not. Think D&D plot. Think dead possum someone hit on the road.
You place your finger in the book and close it, thinking over what you just read.
“I can see you’re watching. It’s a good one — do you know it?”
“Do I know it — I can quote it to you.” For a second Eddie forgets the embarrassing shirt, the confusion of being this close to you in a small room, and feels the usual heat he gets when talking about something he loves.
“I just read the chapter on Claudia. It’s devastating — she’s trapped forever like that. I need a break.”
“It’s the best one,” Eddie is too serious for the small talk in the laundry room. “Lestat acts like he gave her a gift. Immortality. But for her being frozen in one place forever might not be…enough.”
You nod and look around for something to use as a bookmark, spot only a broom and an ‘out of service’ sign propped between the wall and the washer. Dog-earing the page is not your style.
Oh. She respects her books. Or she borrowed it from a friend.
Instinctively Eddie reaches into his pocket and to his great joy finds a receipt.
“Wait —” he takes it out and stretches his hand toward you. “Here.”
“Thank you.” You read it. “Mickey’s Pharmacy. Condoms, one pack.”
Eddie turns red. Is this hell or a nightmare?
“Don’t blush. I love responsible men.” You close the book and put your elbows on your knees. “Though I’m not sure how responsible you actually are — yesterday you sold my friend some molly, and today you’re wearing this.” You point at the “Just say no”.
Fuck. The shirt. I will burn it.
“I don’t know how I acquired it or why it survived in my drawer.”
“Let me guess — a cute girl was handing them out.”
““Must be that. And you — into Megadeth?”
“My ex’s.” You notice his smile fade and add, “Long gone and forgotten. All my stuff is in the city, I had nothing to wear.”
“Same. So which side are you on?”
“What?”
“Megadeth or Metallica. You’re wearing one and I’ve got the other. There are sides.”
“Told you the shirt isn’t mine. Which side is David Bowie?”
He scratches his forehead, thinking it over. “Bowie is a sovereign nation.”
You laugh.
“Wanna trade?” He points to the book and takes off his headphones. “I assume you’re not allergic to metal.”
“No, I’m not. What you’ve got?”
“Metallica — Master of Puppets. Got it the day it came out, went to the city.”
“Is it good?”
Eddie lifts his eyes to the ceiling, arms spread in a speechless gesture. “It’s ultimate metal, baby.”
He hands over the Walkman and you give him the book. Time drags through the rest of the washing cycle. The air feels charged with so many things you could share. Only the sound of two washers whirring breaks the silence.
Eddie reads sitting on the dryer while you listen to Master of Puppets and watch him with new interest. Besides his ridiculous outfit, he’s good looking — you noticed that yesterday at the party, but today he’s different. A little shy, but instantly lights up when you talk about music or books. You expected a drug-dealing metalhead but he’s so much more, he’s smart and funny, and passionate about things that matter.
The bun is cute but your hands are itching to undo it, let his hair fall down, tangle your fingers in it — wait, what are you even thinking? Is it the music bringing back good memories and desires along with them?
The washing cycle ends and Eddie is still not making any moves, just throwing glances when he thinks you aren’t looking. Well. Two can play that game.
You pull your laundry out and start sorting your lingerie to air dry. Some sheer panties, lace bras and a black babydoll that reveals more than it covers.
Eddie turns red and gasps.
Keep it together, we got laid this month already.
Maybe it’s okay for you, but not for me. If you’re not getting me some action I’m going to signal SOS to the lady.
You dick.
I am indeed.
“What is it, bun?” you ask in your special seductive voice.
“Mhm — what are you doing?”
“This?” You dangle a black lace thong in front of his face. “Separating delicates to air dry. You should do the same with your band shirts if you want them to last.”
“This is against the Geneva Convention.”
“What, lingerie? Like what you see?”
Eddie swallows and nods.
You look down at his sweatpants and see a small wet spot beginning to form.
“Oh! Well, hello there.” You smile. “Sorry, Eddie — my roommate is gay, I’ve lost any casual modesty.”
Sorry friend, it’s my hand again tonight. At least we’ve got something to think about.
“How can you be sure he’s still gay? After all this—”
“He brings guys home sometimes.”
“Okay. Cool. No casual modesty.”
Eddie turns the knob on the dryer a little aggressively and moves toward the door.
“Hey, don’t run away. Come here.”
He freezes like a deer in headlights as you cross the room, lift your hand slowly, and touch his ridiculous bun. Eddie smells lightly of cigarettes and incense.
He’s barely breathing.
“May I?” you ask.
His pupils widen instantly, the shy grin is gone.
“Yeah,” he says and his voice drops lower. “Please.”
You undo his bun, your body brushes against his chest as you reach up.
She likes us, moron. Don’t fuck it up.
“This isn’t real, right?” Eddie rasps as his curls fall down, messy and good.
You pinch his nipple.
“Ouch! Your place or mine?”
“We’ve got laundry to watch. Forty minutes.” You smirk and slide your hands under the elastic of his sweatpants — and that’s when you get your surprise. No underwear. You wrap your fingers around his cock. Hot and silky, so hard it has to hurt. Eddie groans as you stroke slowly.
Oh, yeah. Don’t forget to thank me later.
You take inventory. Sign on the door. Broom secures the handle.
Eddie is not shy anymore.
He pulls his shirt off and pins you to the wall, looking at you with dark eyes.
“You want it?”
“Yes.”
He presses his lips to yours. His hands slide under your shirt and find your waist. He kisses you moving his whole body, hungry, seeking more contact. His one-day stubble rubs against your skin. You open for him and his tongue takes over — he bites, licks, sucks until you moan and arch into him.
He finds your breasts, eager — palming, caressing, his mouth moving down, nibbling your earlobe, finding a sensitive spot on your neck. You dig your nails into his hair and give a slow scratch. Eddie groans and lifts you onto the vibrating dryer.
The Megadeth shirt hits the floor. Shorts undone. Your bra is lacy and pretty. Eddie frees your nipples and latches onto one while his fingers work the other. Your legs wrap tight around him seeking friction but he pulls back.
“Eddie — I need you.”
“Don’t have a condom on me.”
“Come in my mouth then.”
His whole body jerks like he’s touched a live wire.
Man if she keeps talking like that I’m going to blow right now.
I’m dying here too. What do I do?
Improvise.
Eddie brings two fingers to your lips. You open and suck them, looking into his deep eyes. “I’ll make you feel good, baby.” He pulls your shorts down, Tuesday panties and all . He’s too far gone to comment on it. Fingers slide through your folds, tease your clit and push in.
Oh boy. He’s good.
He thrusts and twists and works his hand until you are shaking, muffling your moans with kisses, getting drunk on the sounds you make, the way you grab at his hair and shoulders and anything within reach.
“Oh — yes — Eddie, where did you learn this?”
He adds his thumb to your clit, pulsing gently.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.”
“Yes, Eddie …just like that …I’m going to come …I’m coming…”
Eddie keeps fingering you with pace, stamina and precision.
Told you, dude. Five years of jerking guitars had to pay off somewhere.
Sure, and I’ve only seen your callused hand for four of them. If you’d done ballroom dancing we’d be drowning in pussy by now.
Shut up and carry on.
You clench around his fingers, hips bucking hard. Eddie holds you tight so you don’t hit the wall.
“There you go, baby. Was it good?”
“So good. Eddie, I need you inside me.”
Eddie drops to his knees and presses his lips to your inner thigh, working his way in.
“Hello, beautiful. Ready for me?”
“Been ready since the condom receipt.”
You are open for him, slick and warm. He licks a slow line up to your clit and closes his lips around it. He can’t hold back a moan and the vibration sends a jolt up your spine.
“Eddie…stop showing off and fuck me.”
Stop showing off and fuck her.
He frees his cock and teases you at your entrance.
Don’t you dare come before her. She said in her mouth.
I’ll see what I can do.
Eddie pushes in and stills. You are so warm and tight he can barely hold it together.
Breathe, dude.
Breathe yourself.
You open your eyes just long enough to catch his face and see intense pleasure he's barely holding back.
“Move, Eddie,” you beg.
He pulls almost all the way out and slams back. The dryer hits the wall. You cry out. He looks at you, as if searching for approval.
“Eddie…yes …yes yes yes yes—” you gasp each time he thrusts.
“Fuck, you’re unreal.” Eddie slows to play with your breasts, kisses you deep, his tongue moving in the same rhythm as his hips.
Then he pulls out and spins you around. You can barely stay upright. He presses your back down gently and you lay your chest on the dryer, spreading your legs for him. His cock stretches you perfectly and at this angle he reaches so much deeper. Every time he bottoms out you see sparks.
“I’m going to come again …Eddie, please don’t stop…”
He doesn’t. Callused fingers rub slow circles over your clit until the tension snaps and you fall apart, eyes watering, legs giving out completely.
“Shit …I’m going to come too, you feel so good, I can’t…”
A moment later he grabs your boneless body and helps you to the floor. You tilt your head back and open your mouth. His aim falters and he comes across your face and chest.
“Fuck…sorry, sorry, sorry…” He looks around frantically and his eyes land on the green shirt.
He turns to clean you up and the sight stops him completely: you sitting on the laundry room floor, wearing nothing but his cum on your lips, cheeks, dripping onto your chest.
It undoes him on a deeper level than the sex did. It’s worship, not just lust.
Say something nice. Get her number.
“Fuck, you look…” Eddie swallows hard and starts cleaning you, gently tucks your hair away. “Here. I’m sorry, I was too far gone.”
You wipe a little from your lip and lick your finger.
“All good.”
Eddie looks down at the shirt in his hand.
“Finally. This fucking thing is good for something.”
You laugh breathlessly. “Nancy Reagan would be proud.”
You both sit on the floor with your backs against the machines, his arm draped over you, your head on his shoulder, talking nonsense — summer plans, music, vampire books — until the laundry is done.
Dryers click sharply and you fish out something to wear.
“Take the Megadeth one — give it back next time.”
“Next time.” Eddie grins wide. “I’ll hold onto it like a dragon guards his treasure.”
You roll your eyes and pull him in a lazy relaxed kiss.
⋆˚꩜｡summary: we're eating (eddie's ass) well tonight! (sorry)
⋆˚꩜｡tags/tw: no y/n, afab!reader, est. relationship, rimming, fingering (m!receiving), oral (m!receiving), cum play?, brief mention of f!masturbation, forced orgasm (i think?), i guess that's it?
⋆˚꩜｡wordcount: 2.3k+
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: written for my lovely @donchanoo <3 i hope this qualifies as gross!reader, and i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it thehee<3
The first time it happened, Eddie brushed your apology off, like it hadn’t been a big deal.
The second time, he tensed up for a quick second and blinked heavily at the ceiling before an awkward, barely contained chuckle escaped him as he told you it’s fine, no worries.
But there you were, caught for the third time, as he sank his fingers into your hair and pushed your greedy mouth off from where it had just been glued to.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he panted, eyebrows pulled into a confused furrow.
You see, ever since Eddie and you had started dating, you’d grown more comfortable into your… kinks and fetishes, to say it bluntly. Over the past few months, he’d coaxed you to voice out all the nasty little thoughts that crossed your mind, always making sure you knew there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.
But voicing out that you were desperate to eat him out? Telling him you wanted to sink your tongue in his tight hole, maybe even use a finger or two while you were at it?
Yeah, no. Some things were better left unsaid.
Except that, for the last three times — today included — you’d given him mind-blowing sloppies, served with some extra attention to his beautiful, warm and fuzzy balls, your tongue had accidentally slipped lower. Just a quick flick or two, less than half a second, but still long enough that he’d noticed it.
You immediately sat up straighter when he let go of your hair – scalp burning from his tight grip, chest heaving from having been caught yet again. A deep exhale left you as you slid your hands up and down his hairy thighs while searching for the words that just kept escaping you.
“Sorry, Eds,” you breathed out eventually, and dragged a hand through your hair. “I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear.”
Neither of you said anything after that. The silence lingered in the air between you – still thick and humid from everything you’d been doing up until then.
A dry lump suddenly settled in your throat, but you swallowed it down just as quick as it had appeared. Meanwhile, you were carefully making a selection of words before you opened up your mouth again.
You gave up eventually, feeling an uncomfortable warmth spread underneath your skin as you kept repeating the words in your head in an endless loop.
“Fuck,” you murmured after a while, and gave his thighs a soft squeeze that served more as way to anchor yourself than anything else. “I just…”
Eddie pushed himself up, supporting his upper body with his elbows propped against the mattress under him. He let his gaze trail over your face for a moment, finding a hint of doubtfulness — maybe shame? — swimming in your eyes.
He immediately brought one of his ringed hands to your cheeks, thumb brushing gently across your skin as he gave you the time and space you needed to gather your thoughts and feelings.
“I can’t stop thinking about eating you out,” you breathed out quickly, after deciding that ripping off the band-aid in one go was the best way to do it. “I, uh… yeah.”
Eddie was, like you’d expected, at a loss of words.
It wasn’t everyday that your super hot girlfriend of nearly seven months told you she wanted to eat you out.
Eat out your ass, to be extremely specific.
“It’s just… it looks so pretty,” you added quietly, flickering your eyes from his and instantly finding the puckered hole hidden underneath his taut balls. “Pretty and forbidden, and so inviting all at once.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out distractedly, like his brain wasn’t done processing your words.
“Fuck. I know, Eds,” you whispered as you gently smashed a hand against your forehead and cringed at the whole situation. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t–”
“I… I’ll let you do it, on one condition,” Eddie softly cut you off, still blinking incessantly at your face, your own eyelashes moving as frantically as his as you stared back at him. “You let me fuck your ass, too.”
“A-are… are you serious?” you asked with raised eyebrows, while trying – and failing miserably – to get your heartbeat back to its usual rate.
“Not today,” he added quickly, and dragged a hand through his hair like it helped him ground himself. “Just… y’know.”
Neither of you said anything for a few seconds, too busy letting the thick air settle between the two of you as you both replayed the words that had just been exchanged.
Your fingers twitched against his thighs as an exciting buzz spread underneath your skin, straight down to your core.
“Yes,” you choked out, blinking heavily at Eddie. “Whenever you want, Eds.”
A cocky grin spread across his face as he brushed his thumb gently against your cheek, eyes lingering on the desperate glimmer that had settled in your gaze.
“Jesus, baby,” he chuckled and shook his head. “You’re really that desperate to eat my ass?”
“Y-yeah,” you breathed out lowly as you felt another wave of warmth spread across your cheeks. “Been thinking about it for ages.”
“Well, go ahead then.” He tapped his fingers against your cheek, cocky grin still plastered across his pretty face. “Eat me out, sweetheart. And make it worth my time, hm?”
Eddie gave your cheek a few more taps, each a little bit harder than the previous, heavy silver ring biting into your skin each time his digit came into contact with yours. A dark, humiliating chuckle slipped out of his pretty lips as he let go of your face and let himself fall back onto the bed again.
Before Eddie, there was no way you’d be found in the position you were in now: crouched down on the ground, hands twitching around his thighs as you lowered your head until you faced his pretty parts. And honestly? There was no one else you’d want to do this with.
Your nose brushed against the soft fuzz of his balls, breathing in the mixture of his natural scent, the faint cheap dollar store soap he used, and the slightly salty tang of your dried spit. You wrapped your fingers around his girthy cock and trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his balls until your slick lips met the milky white skin of his ass.
Finally, you were allowed to give into what you’d been waiting a long, long time to do.
A soft, content sigh left your lips as you continued giving him little pecks.
You continued placing messy, open-mouthed kisses along his skin, gently biting the plush flesh as you trailed further down. Sliding a hand down his thighs and under his knees, you gently pushed his leg up until it was propped higher up the bed, leaving Eddie spread open for you.
Digging your fingers into the fat of his thighs, you licked a fat stripe from his puckered hole to the base of his cock. Eddie’s legs twitched under you when he felt your slick tongue licking him before dipping in and out of his greedy hole, all the while you continued sliding your hand up and down his length.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed out and sank his hands into your hair, pushing you deeper into his ass. “That’s it, baby. Eat my fucking ass out, hm?”
Your eyes instantly found Eddie’s head thrown back when you flickered your gaze away from his slick balls. His eyebrows were tightly pulled together, cheeks flushed and his pretty mouth hung open, swollen from all the times he’d sunk his teeth into his lower lip.
Low, desperate groans slipped out of his mouth, despite the fact that he tried his best not to let on how much he was actually enjoying it – maybe even more than you were.
A muffled moan escaped you and your eyes fluttered shut when you lapped at his ridged muscle, spreading hot, sticky spit across his rim like your life depended on it. Hesitantly, you removed your mouth from his ass to spit on the tight hole.
“Is this okay?” you asked softly, trembling as you let go of his thigh and brought your free hand to roam his ass, slowly trailing up until your fingertip rested against his ridged muscle.
“Y-yeah,” he breathed out, nodding frantically, and tightened the grip he had on your scalp.
Then, ever so slowly, you circled your finger against him before gently pushing the digit in. Low groans escaped you the moment you pressed in deeper. He’s so fucking tight. Eddie’s entrance squeezed around the tip of your finger, trying to suck you in further. He accidentally pushed his hips against you, taking another inch or so of your finger into his ass.
Semi-translucent, milky drops rolled from his leaky slit, painting your other hand in his pre-cum while you kept flicking your wrist. He twitched in your hold, desperately begging for more. Eddie shuddered, gulping with enthusiasm, when he felt your finger pull out and another thick glob of spit run down his ass.
“You want another one, Eds?” you asked teasingly, spreading your saliva with your tongue.
“Y-yes,” he nodded frantically, tugging at his hair. “P-please, baby.”
Eddie tried to close his mouth, catch his breath, but then his eyes fluttered shut and his eyebrows pulled into a tight furrow when he felt two fingers circling his rim.
A broken whimper escaped him, followed by a sharp hiss the more you pushed your fingers into him. You took his angry tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his slit and licking up every drop of pre-cum as you tried to distract him from the biting intrusion. You slowly stretched him out, moving your fingers in and out in gradual thrusts.
“You’re so tight f’me, baby,” you whispered as you pulled him out of your mouth.
The way you had Eddie clenching hard around your fingers had you moving your legs for even the smallest bit of relief. His toes curled tightly against the bed as you gave his cock a hard squeeze and brought your fingers back to his stretched hole. You angled your fingers just right, giving yourself enough space to slide your tongue in as well, drooling spit into his entrance while you kept pumping in and out.
“Mmpff, I-I’m–” Eddie moaned out, needy and broken, as he jerked his hips harder against your face. “P-please don’t stop, baby.”
His breath deepened, muscles tensed as he felt your spit roll down his ass until it dripped messily on the mattress under him. The anticipation was torturous, greedy hole clenching hard around your two fingers while you sped up the thrusts.
“Fuckfuckfuck. I-I’m s-so close, baby,” he whimpered, giving your face and fingers another hard jerk of his hips.
You had no option but to dig your nose into his fuzzy sack as he nudged you deeper into his ass, nice and warm and sloppy, just the way he’d learned to love over the last few minutes.
Eddie’s pretty cock twitched and spurted thick ropes of cum, trickling down the closed hand you still had around him, down his fuzzy sack until it finally reached your greedy tongue, still buried deep in his hole. Your name was moaned out brokenly, followed by desperate fuck’s and twitching hips that refused to let you go just yet.
You slowly brought your hand to a stop and gave his cock another squeeze before you let go of him. Your other hand, however, stayed buried deep in him as you kept pushing his sticky cum deeper and deeper into him — like he always liked to do to you and your pretty pussy.
“P-please,” he begged, shaking his head from side to side as broken whimpers escaped him. He tried pulling his hips away from you, only to push it back twice as hard, sinking back down on your digits.
“Oh, baby,” you mumbled against his sack, groaning as he gave your fingers a hard clench. “Just one more, hm?”
Tiny teardrops rolled down his face, disappearing in his dark brown, bouncing curls as he kept shaking his head. You ignored the broken whimpers that spilled from his pretty mouth, and continued pumping your fingers into him while you brushed the tip of your nose against his balls, giving the soft skin a few sniffs.
“I-I d-don’t–”
He buried his fingers into your hair, pulling harshly at your roots as he forced your mouth to stay where it was – half on his sack, half buried in his hole. It didn’t take long until a new wave — although smaller — of warm cum leaked out of his swollen tip and trailed down to your face as he cried out your name once again.
Eddie’s chest heaved up and down as his jelly-like legs fell on the bed – big mistake on his part, because that just made his ass pull your fingers in deeper.
“F-fuck. Fuck.”
He let go of your hair and reached for your wrist instead, pulling you out of his hole with a broken whimper. Eddie twitched and trembled as he tried to catch his breath, heavy lidded eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
When he pushed himself up just enough to find your face, he found your cum and spit tainted fingers buried deep in your mouth.
The same fucking fingers you had just put in his ass.
You lapped desperately at the digits, eyes tightly shut as the room filled with muffled whimpers and loud slurping sounds. You slid your other hand down his leg, trailing it down and down until you reached your parted legs.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned out, eyebrows pulling in a tight furrow. “Are you– are you touching yourself?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed quietly, mouth still preoccupied with licking your fingers clean.
Eddie dragged a ringed hand through his hair, pulling at his roots as another stream of curses slipped from his mouth. His big eyes blinked dumbly at you when you opened yours again. Mouth hanging low, he let his gaze drag down your naked body until he found your desperate hand buried deep into your pussy.
“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he whispered and reached for your waist with his trembling hands. “C’mere baby, lemme help you, hm?”
⋆˚꩜｡edit: just reread this before posting it. i’ve never eaten ass before. no idea if any of this makes any sense. might manipulate a man (my bf) to let me munch on some ass this weekend to figure out how accurate i was.
⋆˚꩜｡edit2: listening to alice in chains and aww shucks. missed opportunity to name this down in edw(a)rds hole.
+18 mdni, doing things with the hook (don't try this at home). enjoy my lovely perverts!!!
You didn't know exactly how long you had been at the mercy of Captain Hook's crew and the aforementioned individual before your friends came to rescue you; it could have been minutes or hours. But either way, he had achieved what he wanted.
Captain Hook — or rather, Eddie Munson, as he himself had revealed to you — was a persistent and shrewd man who knew how to play the cards he was dealt, no matter how bad his hand was, he always found a way to turn it in his favor.
And with you, it had been no different. In fact, it had been easier than you two had anticipated.
Upon arriving at the Jolly Roger — Hook's ship — you found yourself surrounded by barbaric men bordering on bestiality, rude and ignoble creatures who poked and prodded about your entire existence as if they had never seen a woman in their lives.
They surrounded you the minute the captain's two henchmen brought you back from capture, it was like throwing meat into a cage of hungry crocodiles and waiting for them to pounce.
They circled you with dumbfounded and curious stares, whispering amongst themselves as if you were a museum attraction — more like a circus attraction if you considered the audience — or a creature totally out of this world.
“Look,” one of the brutes wearing an eye patch gestured to you, drawing the attention of the others. “She seems softer than a brand new, freshly waxed deck.” He reached out to touch your cheek and quickly pulled back as if suspicious.
He arched a thick, unkempt eyebrow in your direction. "Are you a… woman?" He asked, almost like a secret that shouldn't be uttered, causing a commotion among the other crew members who launched into erratic guesses like old women at a fair.
“I see no reason or circumstance in which this would be of interest to you,” your face flushed as you spat out the words. Hearing the sound of your voice, the men fell silent in contemplation and awe.
A short, chubby man with a red bandana on his head and a beard resembling Santa Claus cleared his throat. "By the seven seas, you sound more beautiful than the sound of a cannon hitting an enemy ship." Everyone agreed, awestruck.
And before you could retort, the energy on deck shifted dramatically with the creaking of an old door opening and the sound of heavy, calculated footsteps approaching from your direction, still surrounded by barbarians.
“Gentlemen,” a deeply soft, velvety voice disapproved, “that's not how you treat a guest.” As the owner of the voice approached you, the crew parted and made way, as if afraid to cross his path.
“Moreover, a lady,” Captain Hook was finally standing before you. “A very beautiful lady, I might add.”
He was… not what you expected.
Based on the stories Peter told as a warning, he was supposed to look like a barbaric brute uglier than a forgotten corpse at the bottom of the ocean, and not like…this.
He wore a dark red velvet coat embroidered with designs in gold thread that seemed more appropriate for a ball at the royal court than for a pirate ship full of unwashed men. The wide sleeves fell over his wrists like theater curtains, and ruffled lace gathered around his neck; on his head rested an immense tricorn hat adorned with black and red feathers on top and further embroidered with threads that looked like gold on the bottom.
His hair — long and dark as wet wood — fell in soft waves carefully arranged over his shoulders. Framing his handsome face was a meticulously waxed mustache, slightly curved at the ends, accompanied by the faint shadow of a narrow goatee that gave him a fiery air.
“Please,” his voice pulled you from your meticulous analysis before you could descend to the hook and your eyes met his, beautifully brown and round like a calf’s.
“Excuse my crew’s manners,” he smiled slightly, “it’s the first time they’ve come face-to-face with a woman who isn’t…” He paused and pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“Anyway, I apologize for that.” He placed his right hand on his chest in a simple gesture of apology.
His eyes shifted to one of the men, and he gestured with his head, certainly a commanding gesture as the man hurried across the deck and disappeared down the stairs.
“You must be hungry. Allow me to offer you better hospitality than my men.” He watched you intently, as if trying to see something hidden.
"You won't get anything out of me, I'm loyal to my friends and nothing you do will change that." The contained anger in your voice drew a raised eyebrow from the captain, who looked you up and down with barely concealed mockery.
He licked his lips as he tilted his head to the side.
“My dear, I’m just being a polite and respectful host.” He narrowed his steps and took a few more paces until he was a hand’s breadth away from you.
“My intention isn’t to interrogate you or test your loyalty, I’m just being a gentleman.” His warm breath smelled of whatever drink he’d had, and strangely, you wanted to move closer to his mouth and smell it more closely.
You shook your head to clear the thoughts. "If that's not your intention, then why did your men tie me up and bring me here in a sack?" His proximity was affecting your senses; the sweet musky scent emanating from him was making your head spin and your mouth water.
“Well, I just wanted to know the talk of the island and the reason why Peter has become more protective.” He shrugged as if it were obvious to everyone.
“Come, my dear,” he placed his right hand on your shoulder and gestured with his left toward the door of a cabin, “I will answer all your questions with fine wine and a feast.” Your eyes went straight to the enormous metal hook protruding from the left sleeve of his velvet coat, sharp and deadly.
You must have been distracted by the contraption because when you realized it, you were already in his cabin, sitting at the table with a glass of wine in your hand while he poured a dark drink into a clear crystal goblet for himself.
“You know…” he began inquisitively, “everyone’s always wanted to know how I got this hook, or rather, how I lost my hand.” He took a sip of his drink while staring at his outstretched left arm.
He glanced at you over his glass before taking a sip. "Would you like me to show you, miss?" His tone seemed to hint at something only he knew.
You narrowed your eyes and, instead of answering, took a sip of the sweet wine that moistened your parched throat.
He chuckled softly and finished his drink from the goblet, rising from his chair and walking slowly over to where you were sitting.
“I can do a lot of things with this little thing here,” he approached and extended the hook, brushing your hair away from your neck.
“And not all of them are bad.” The cold metal pressed against the smooth skin of the nape of your neck in slow up-and-down movements.
"I highly doubt that, there's nothing good to be done with that thing." Your trembling voice filled the space and you felt him turn your chair towards him.
With his eyes glued to yours, his hook resting just below your chin, he smiled and licked his lips.
“Hmm, I could show you all the good things I can do with it…” The cold metal slid down your neck and reached your chest, covered by the cotton nightgown you were still wearing since arriving on the island, stopping above your breast.
“But I said my intention wasn’t to question your loyalty, didn’t I?” He removed the hook from its resting place and let it fall beside him.
The words left your mouth before you could process them in your mind. "And how could you question my loyalty if you're not going to interrogate me?"
You closed your eyes as you felt the intense cold again, but this time directly on your nipple. "I suppose you're right…" His right hand closed against your other breast, massaging the soft flesh while his hook circled your nipple in the same slow, delicious rhythm.
You threw your head back, a shiver slowly climbing up the back of your thighs and up to your hips and pelvis like hands caressing beneath your skin, stimulating every nerve in your body.
“You’re so… responsive.” He moved the hook to the other breast that had previously been in his hands and repeated the movement.
“Answer me one thing,” he knelt in front of you and continued playing with your nipples with all the calm in the world while you enjoyed the pleasure of his agile hands. “When did you get here?” He threw the question out casually, and you were too distracted to notice or care.
“L-last night.” Your voice came out as a thin breath. “P-peter brought me here.” He murmured low and deep in acknowledgment and lowered the metal contraption across your belly until it stopped at your mound.
“Interesting…” You finally turned your eyes to him, and the sight of Captain Hook kneeling between your legs with that metal pressing against your cunt and looking at you as if you were his special banquet, was enough to make you completely forget about that silly loyalty talk.
He remained resting on top of you where you most wanted him, and with his other hand he held the outside of your covered thigh and gave a slight tug so that you would sit further to the edge of the chair. You obeyed, lying partially on the chair with your covered pussy right in his line of sight, and he smiled contentedly.
The movement had caused your cotton camisole to ride up to your hips, exposing your small, white panties, completely soaked and transparent with your sticky arousal. Eddie moved one hand to the waistband of your underwear.
“May I?” He gestured, his eyes focused entirely on your face, and you nodded in permission, not trusting your voice not to fail you at that moment.
He smiled darkly, and before you could react, your panties were ripped in half by the powerful hook, as soft as butter.
The cold air of the cabin clashed with your wet, exposed warmth for his attentive eyes to devour. He studied your utterly fucked-up expression before he even properly touched you — your lower lip caught between your teeth and eyebrows furrowed in anticipation; your chest rising and falling heavily with the lust coursing through your body like flames licking your insides — and concluded that you were the most magnificent thing his cynical eyes had ever seen.
His hook finally made contact with your wet cunt, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your mouth at the temperature difference.
He moved and twisted his wrist, covering the metal surface with your wet essence while caressing your clit in the process. Your moans filled the candlelit cabin in the late afternoon, and you prayed that the crew wasn't suspiciously lurking behind the door listening to everything.
He tilted his head to the side and changed the rhythm of his movements, rotating the hook in lazy, tight circles, applying light pressure to your bundle of nerves. “How did you get here? As far as I know, there’s no way in or out of the island.” His soft, velvety voice descended into your ears like thick molasses, making you loosen your tongue.
You writhed in your chair as moans and sighs escaped your lips.
“Uh… P-Peter used a— fuck, he used a… Magic yellow dust to bring me flying.” You could feel the heat building in your lower abdomen, like a rubber band about to snap.
“He said something about a star, I think, that points the way out and in to the island, but you can only enter or leave with the magic dust and through the sky.” You revealed this without him asking, not realizing the valuable information you had just handed over to the Captain who wanted Peter's head.
He made a sound of recognition and turned the hook once more, making the sharp part point upwards while increasing the speed of the rubbing motions.
“Captain, I'm— ” You didn't have time to finish the sentence before the climax hit you with the force of a moving train, making your body convulse and your legs tremble, trying to close around him.
You snapped out of your ecstasy just in time to see him remove the hook from your center and bring it to his mouth, licking the curved surface covered in your honey as if it were the most delicious dessert in all seven seas.
“Let’s make a deal, my dear…” He said, licking his lips, your attention focused entirely on his mouth, especially the thick mustache you imagined sliding across different parts of your body.
“You tell me everything you know about Peter and his cronies, and I’ll show you everything I can do,” you nodded, dumbfounded, even before he finished. Fuck Peter Pan and company, that side of the island was much more fun and enjoyable to be on.
“But this time it’ll be with my tongue.” He removed his elegant tricorn hat and rested on the floor, immediately plunging his head into your pussy.
It's safe to say that when you were "rescued" by your friends — which was by no means planned by Captain Hook, of course — the state you were in further solidified the story of the cruel Captain who would do anything to get Pan's head.
"What did he do to you?" Pan asked indignantly and angrily, seeing you disheveled and covered in purple bruises on your neck, your perfectly aligned white nightgown now nothing but dirty, torn rags. "Did he force you to reveal some secret of ours?" You internally struggled not to smile.
"Oh, no… He didn't force me to do anything," was completely true. "He just… showed me how he uses the hook." And while they speculated and planned their next attack on the Jolly Roger to "avenge" you, they had no idea that the girl in front of them was no longer the girl Peter had brought with him to Neverland.
Instead, Red-Handed Jill — or Buccaneer Jill, as Eddie had chosen to call you — occupied that spot.
would you accept this deal?
tagging some pervs who will love this: @dathomireternal @beasbrain @celest1alore @munsonsbunni @somequeerbitch @itzakicka @hobiesvalley @munsonsvixen
description: morticia and gomez addams if they survived the horrors of hawkins, got married, raised two equally dramatic children, and spent the rest of their lives being unapologetically obsessed with each other.
pairing: eddie x wife!reader
tags: eddie x reader, no y/n, husband!eddie munson, dad!eddie munson, morticia and gomez addams coded, tooth rotting fluff (they're obsessed with eachother), soulmates, edward jr & corvina, domestic bliss, slice of life, gothic romance, munson family, black cat x black cat, love as devotion and worship
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!, PiV, unprotected, mushy fluff
WC:7.3k
A/N: requested by @pierrotandsam AGH HERE IT IS!!! I HOPE YOU LOOOOOVE IT :))) reblogs are a writer's best friend <3
I'm so obsessed with this. **I proofread as best as i could...i got three hours of sleep last night, so my brain is straight mush
Eddie still remembers the day he first laid eyes on you. Summer, going into his third senior year at Hawkins, you walked into Larry’s Auto Body Repair looking like something pulled from the pages of a half-burnt gothic novel left to rot in an attic trunk.
The heat outside had been miserable; thick, wet Indiana air that made grease cling to skin and tempers run short, but you arrived untouched by it all. Draped in black despite the July sun, lace sleeves swallowing your wrists, silver rings glinting like tiny knives beneath the fluorescent lights.
Your perfume smelled faintly of clove cigarettes, old paper, and rain. Long dark hair spilled down your back in soft waves, and your eyes, God, your eyes, looked mournful in the way stained glass saints did. Beautiful enough to make a man confess every awful thing he’s ever done, truth or not.
Eddie had nearly dropped an engine part directly on his foot.
You’d stepped into the garage like you belonged in another century entirely, gaze drifting slowly across the room with detached fascination, lingering on rusted tools and oil stains as if they were artifacts in a museum.
Then you smiled at him. Not sweet, not shy, but devastating. Like you already knew every terrible thing about him and adored him for it anyway. From that moment on, Eddie Munson was ruined.
Years later, the people of Hawkins still spoke about the two of you in hushed, bewildered voices. The Munsons of the Creel House. The strange family on the hill with wrought iron gates, tangled in dead vines and black roses that somehow bloomed year-round.
Children swore candlelight moved through the windows at impossible hours. Neighbors whispered about organ music drifting through storms and the silhouettes dancing behind curtains long after midnight.
The truth was far less sinister, mostly. You simply loved beautiful things that others were too frightened to appreciate. And Eddie loved you enough to follow you anywhere, even the old Creel House.
At first, he’d refused to even step onto the property. Too many memories. Too much blood soaked into those walls. Vecna. Chrissy. The Upside Down. Every rotten thing Hawkins tried desperately to bury lived in the bones of that house.
But then you’d walked through the front doors for the first time, black dress trailing over dusty hardwood, staring up at the massive chandelier with wonder glowing across your face like moonlight.
“Eddie,” you’d whispered softly, almost reverently. “It’s perfect.”
And that had been it. Because you looked at the house the same way you looked at him, not with fear, but affection. Like ruined things deserved devotion too. So he rebuilt it for you.
Every creaking staircase. Every shattered window. Every rotted inch of wallpaper. Together, you turned the graveyard of Victor Creel’s legacy into something warm, strange, and terribly romantic. A home, your home.
Corvina, your eldest daughter, drifted through the manor like a tiny phantom in velvet dresses, all solemn eyes and unnerving intelligence. She collected moth wings in glass jars and read Poe beneath thunderstorms while Eddie watched with equal parts pride and concern.
Meanwhile, Edward Jr, though everyone called him Teddy, was chaos incarnate. Wild curls, scraped knees, and his father’s crooked grin. The poor kid had inherited Eddie’s dramatic flair and your complete lack of fear, which meant most afternoons ended with him attempting something mildly catastrophic somewhere on the property.
Eddie had been hesitant about naming him after himself. Truthfully, he was terrified.
He remembered sitting beside you in bed while rain battered the windows, your newborn son asleep against your chest. Candlelight flickered gold across your skin as Eddie stared at the tiny little thing wearing his name.
“What if he ends up like me?” he’d asked quietly. You’d looked at him then with that same devastating softness you’d always reserved for his ugliest thoughts.
“My darling,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his curls, “I should certainly hope so.”
And just like that, the fear dissolved. Because in your eyes, Eddie Munson had never been something to outgrow or overcome. He had always been something to cherish.
The Creel House came alive slowly in the mornings. Rain tapped softly against the tall windows that morning, the sky outside painted silver and gloomy in the way you adored most.
Eddie stood at the stove in silk pajama pants and a black robe hanging open over his tattooed chest, swaying dramatically to the music while making pancakes shaped vaguely like bats.
“Darling,” you called from your place at the kitchen table, long black sleeves draped elegantly around your coffee cup, “I do believe those are becoming progressively less edible.”
Eddie pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. “Cruel. Wounded before breakfast.”
“You married me for my cruelty.”
“I married you because you looked at me like a Victorian widow cursed by the sea.”
You smiled over the rim of your mug. “And you looked like trouble wrapped in leather.”
“Mm,” Eddie hummed proudly. “Still do.”
Before you could respond, Eddie appeared beside your chair suddenly, dramatically dropping to one knee like a man overcome with passion. He took your hand delicately, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Then another to your wrist. Then another just beneath your sleeve.
You laughed softly, tilting your head as his curls brushed your skin. “Edward Munson,” you murmured. “The children are awake.”
“Good,” he replied against your hand. “They should witness devotion.”
Right on cue, Corvina entered the kitchen carrying three books against her chest, long dark braid hanging over one shoulder. She glanced once at the scene before deadpanning:
“You’re disgusting.”
“Thank you, my dove,” you said warmly.
Corvina moved to pour herself coffee like she hadn’t witnessed anything unusual at all. Then came the sound of slower footsteps, Teddy.
Edward Jr. appeared in the doorway wearing his Hawkins High hoodie, backpack hanging off one shoulder, curls sticking up wildly like he’d been running nervous hands through them for an hour.
And immediately, both you and Eddie noticed the expression on his face, and Eddie straightened a little. “Whoa. What’s with the funeral look, Theodore?”
Teddy hesitated, then slowly held up a folded yellow slip of paper. Your brows lifted slightly while Corvina sipped her coffee with the detached calm of someone witnessing an execution.
“It’s a summons,” Teddy muttered.
Eddie blinked once, then dramatically pointed the spatula toward him. “What’d you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“That’s exactly what I used to say,” Eddie nodded solemnly. “And I was usually innocent at least forty percent of the time.”
You extended your hand calmly. “May I see it, darling?”
Teddy crossed the kitchen and handed it over anxiously while Eddie abandoned the pancakes entirely to loom over your shoulder. His chin immediately dropped onto the top of your head while his arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind instinctively.
You unfolded the slip carefully:
REQUESTED PARENT CONFERENCE.
PRINCIPAL HIGGINS.
REGARDING: EDWARD MUNSON JR.
Eddie groaned immediately. “Jesus Christ. They started early this year.”
Teddy looked miserable. “Dad, I swear, I didn’t even do anything. It was those idiots from the basketball team—they kept messing with my stuff in gym, and one of them shoved me into a locker, and when I shoved him back, he started bleeding and—”
“Bleeding?” Corvina asked mildly.
“He ran into the trophy case!”
“Ah,” she nodded. “Natural selection.”
“Teddy,” you said softly, reaching for his hand. “Look at me.”
He did immediately.
And despite being nearly Eddie’s height now, despite the deepening voice and teenage awkwardness settling into his limbs, he still looked at you the same way he had as a child: like you could fix anything simply by speaking.
“You are not in trouble with us,” you assured gently.
Eddie nodded instantly. “Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“Nope.” Eddie waved him off. “Listen, kid, Hawkins High has been blaming Munsons for shit since before you were born. It’s practically a school tradition.”
Teddy huffed out a nervous laugh. You rose from your chair then, smoothing your hands over Eddie’s wrists where they rested around your waist. “We’ll attend the meeting.”
“Together,” Eddie added.
“And if your principal insists on being unreasonable,” you continued calmly, “your father does so enjoy making authority figures uncomfortable.”
Eddie grinned wickedly. “Baby, remember the vice principal in ‘89?”
You smiled faintly. “He looked moments from cardiac arrest.”
Teddy finally laughed properly at that, the tension melting from his shoulders almost instantly.
Without another word, Eddie reached over and grabbed one of the bat-shaped pancakes, shoving it onto Teddy’s plate. “Eat up, kid,” he said. “Nothing scarier than school administration on an empty stomach.”
Corvina glanced toward the stove. “Those are burnt.”
“They’re wonderful,” Eddie corrected.
You reached for his hand again, kissing his knuckles this time. “My talented husband,” you said softly.
Eddie practically preened under the affection, leaning down immediately to kiss you dramatically enough to make Corvina groan.
“Oh, my God.”
“Teddy,” Eddie said seriously against your mouth, “never settle for a love that doesn’t make your children physically ill.”
“Noted,” Teddy muttered through a mouthful of pancake.
By noon, rain had turned into a heavy mist that clung to Hawkins like a veil, which was the exact kind of weather you loved. The kind of weather Eddie insisted was “romantic as hell.”
The two of you walked through the halls of Hawkins High side by side like something entirely out of place amongst the fluorescent lighting and beige walls. Students slowed as you passed, conversations dipping into whispers almost immediately.
You floated through the hallway in a long black coat that brushed your calves, silver jewelry gleaming beneath the dim lights, while Eddie walked beside you in dark rings and leather, one hand firmly wrapped around yours, as if he physically couldn’t stand not touching you for more than a few seconds.
Which, truthfully, he couldn’t.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured low enough only you could hear as you approached the office, “if Higgins pisses me off, are we thinking subtle psychological warfare or full public humiliation?”
You glanced at him calmly. “Let us see how brave he feels first.”
“God, I love when you threaten people poetically.”
The secretary barely looked up when you entered the office, though her expression tightened almost immediately at the sight of Eddie, still, after all these years. Eddie noticed too, squeezing your hand once before leaning casually against the counter.
“We’re here about Teddy,” he said.
The woman cleared her throat awkwardly. “Principal Higgins is expecting you.”
“Lucky him,” Eddie muttered.
You placed a gentle hand against his chest before he could continue, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his jacket. “Behave, mon amour.”
Eddie looked down at you like you’d hung the moon itself in the sky. “For you?” he said softly. “Always.”
The secretary looked deeply uncomfortable. Good.
Principal Higgins’ office looked exactly the same as it had when Eddie sat in it at seventeen; stale coffee smell, ugly filing cabinets, school banners hanging crookedly on the walls.
Only now, Higgins himself had more gray hair and less patience. He didn’t stand when you entered. Instead, he leaned back slowly in his chair, eyes moving between you both with poorly concealed irritation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Munson.”
Eddie sat down across from him casually, slinging an arm immediately across the back of your chair. “Higgins,” he replied. “Still alive, huh?”
You rested one elegant hand atop Eddie’s knee beneath the desk, feeling him relax instantly under your touch.
Higgins ignored the comment. “Teddy was involved in an altercation yesterday afternoon.”
“Involved,” Eddie repeated. “Interesting wording.”
“He assaulted another student.”
“He defended himself,” you corrected smoothly.
Higgins finally looked directly at you then, expression tightening slightly. “And how exactly would you know that, Mrs. Munson?”
“Because, unlike this institution,” you replied calmly, “our son tells us the truth.”
Higgins folded his hands atop the desk. “Mrs. Munson, with all due respect, Edward Jr. has inherited certain… behavioral tendencies.”
There it was. Eddie’s jaw tightened instantly beneath the lazy posture he wore like armor. But you? You simply tilted your head slightly.
“What an unfortunate thing to say aloud,” you murmured.
Higgins shifted faintly. Eddie watched you carefully now, eyes practically sparkling because he knew that tone and knew it well. It was the same tone you used moments before verbally disemboweling someone.
“The Munson family,” Higgins continued carefully, “has had a difficult history with this school. Your husband, especially.”
Eddie gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, because this town treated me like I was carrying the plague.”
“You developed quite the reputation.”
“And your athletes didn’t?” Eddie shot back. “Interesting.”
“Eddie,” you said softly, not looking away from Higgins. You folded your hands neatly in your lap, expression serene enough to be unsettling.
“Our son,” you said carefully, “was cornered by three boys larger than him.”
Higgins opened his mouth, but you continued before he could speak.
“One shoved him into a locker repeatedly. Another destroyed his sketchbook. And when Theodore defended himself after being physically provoked, suddenly, he became the problem.”
Silence, and Higgins shifted again. You leaned forward slightly then, dark eyes steady on his.
“And now you sit before two former students who know exactly how Hawkins High operates and imply there is some sort of inherited defect in our child because his last name is Munson.”
Eddie looked dangerously proud beside you.
Higgins cleared his throat. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“No?” you asked gently. “Then perhaps choose your words more carefully.”
The office went quiet except for the rain tapping softly against the windows. Eddie finally leaned forward himself, rings clinking against the desk.
“Look,” he said flatly, “I know exactly what this place thinks about me. Fine. Whatever. But you do not get to stick that shit onto my son because some meathead couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”
Higgins sighed heavily. “No one is suspending Teddy.”
“Very generous,” Corvina’s voice drawled suddenly from the doorway.
All three of you turned. Corvina stood there holding a hall pass and looking deeply unimpressed.
“She followed us?” Higgins asked incredulously.
“She’s observant,” you replied.
“And nosy,” Eddie added proudly.
Corvina stepped inside without invitation. “Also, for the record, Tyler Bennett admitted in chemistry that he started it because Teddy wouldn’t let them make fun of that freshman girl.”
Eddie blinked. Then slowly turned toward his son’s principal with the most insufferably smug expression imaginable. “Huh,” he said. “Would you look at that?”
You reached over then, brushing your fingers lovingly along Eddie’s jaw.
“My darling,” you sighed softly. “It appears our son inherited your unfortunate tendency toward heroics.”
Eddie practically melted into your hand. “Baby,” he whispered dramatically, grabbing your wrist to kiss your palm, “you say the sexiest things to me.”
Corvina stood near the doorway with her arms crossed, entirely too pleased with herself. Eddie lounged back in his chair again, one boot hooked over his knee while he admired you with open, ridiculous affection.
Meanwhile, you remained perfectly composed, which somehow made you infinitely more terrifying.
“Well,” Higgins said stiffly after a long silence, “I believe this matter can be considered resolved.”
“How fortunate,” you replied smoothly.
Eddie snorted under his breath, and Higgins ignored him. “I’ll speak with the boys involved.”
“You should,” you said. “Especially if the school wishes to maintain the illusion of fairness.”
The principal’s jaw tightened faintly. Then, as though remembering something unpleasant, his eyes flicked briefly toward a framed flyer hanging beside his desk.
Hawkins High Arts Expansion Fund: Sponsored by the Munson Mortuary.
Eddie noticed immediately, as did you. A slow smile touched your lips. “You know,” you mused softly, rising from your chair, “Edward and I have always cared deeply about the arts.”
Eddie stood the second you did, naturally gravitating toward your side like a shadow stitched to your heels.
“The theater department,” you continued thoughtfully, smoothing the sleeve of your coat, “the music programs, student scholarships…”
Higgins straightened slightly.
“Hell,” Eddie added casually, “the new ceramics kiln was us.”
You turned your attention back to Higgins, expression warm enough to unsettle.
“It would simply devastate us,” you said gently, “if the environment here became hostile enough that we no longer felt comfortable continuing such generosity.”
Higgins cleared his throat quickly. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“No,” you agreed pleasantly. “I imagine it won’t.”
Eddie grinned beside you like the devil himself. God, he loved you. Loved the way you could flay someone alive without ever raising your voice. Loved the way people underestimated your softness right until the moment they realized it had teeth.
You reached for his hand, and he took it instantly.
“Well,” Eddie sighed dramatically, “this has been deeply irritating.”
As the four of you started toward the office door, Higgins spoke again. “Mrs. Munson.”
You paused, turning slightly. “I assure you,” he said carefully, “Theodore will be treated fairly.”
You held his gaze for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “I should hope so.”
And with that, you left. The halls quieted again as your family walked through them together.
Eddie’s hand remained clasped tightly with yours while Corvina drifted ahead in a sea of black fabric, entirely unbothered by the stares surrounding her.
The second the front doors shut behind you, Eddie turned toward you with outright admiration burning in his expression.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Marry me again.”
You looked at him calmly. “I would a thousand times.”
Candles flickered low throughout the house, golden light dancing against dark wallpaper while thunder rolled softly somewhere in the distance.
Dinner had long since ended, dishes abandoned in favor of the far more important activity of Eddie dramatically sprawled across the velvet chaise in the sitting room with his head in your lap.
“Darling,” he sighed as you lazily combed your fingers through his curls, “if I die right now, know that I died fulfilled.”
“You’re forty years old,” Corvina deadpanned from the armchair across the room. “Not a dying Victorian poet.”
Eddie pointed accusingly toward her without lifting his head. “Your mother encourages this cruelty.”
You smiled softly down at him. “I find it endearing.”
“That’s because you worship me.”
“Correct.”
Corvina physically recoiled. “Can you two act normal for ten minutes?”
“No,” both of you answered immediately.
Teddy snorted from the floor where he sat building something suspiciously dangerous out of spare radio parts. Then, the doorbell rang, and everyone paused. Corvina moved first, way too fast for her character.
You noticed immediately. Eddie noticed immediately. Teddy noticed immediately. The three of you slowly turned toward her as she stood abruptly from the chair, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her black skirt.
“…Interesting,” you murmured.
Corvina narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.”
Eddie sat up slowly now, a grin already forming. “Oh, my God.”
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Corvina Lucille Munson,” Teddy gasped dramatically. “Are you nervous?”
“I will kill you.”
The bell rang again. Corvina moved toward the front door with all the rigid dignity of someone approaching their execution.
You and Eddie exchanged a look. Then, silently, both rose from your seats to follow.
The front door creaked open, and standing beneath the porch light was perhaps the least expected person imaginable. A boy. Tall, clean-cut, nervous beyond belief. Bright blue varsity jacket. Hair neatly combed. Holding flowers.
The poor thing looked like he’d wandered into the wrong horror movie. Corvina stared at him; the boy stared at Corvina. Then his eyes slowly lifted, and landed directly on you and Eddie looming behind her like two beautifully dressed vampires awaiting explanation.
His face drained completely of color. Eddie blinked once, then immediately leaned toward you and whispered with genuine awe:
“He looks like he says ‘yes ma’am’ unironically.”
You nodded thoughtfully. “How refreshing.”
“Mom,” Corvina warned.
The boy swallowed hard. “H-hi, Mr. and Mrs. Munson.”
Eddie lit up instantly. “Oh, I like him.”
Corvina closed her eyes briefly like she regretted ever being born. You stepped forward gracefully, gaze drifting over the bouquet in his trembling hands.
“How lovely,” you said softly. “Funeral lilies.”
“They’re her favorite,” he blurted.
Then you looked at Corvina slowly, while Corvina looked horrified. Eddie looked seconds from losing his mind entirely.
“Teddy,” he whispered sharply. “Your sister has a boyfriend.”
“I KNEW IT.”
“He is not my boyfriend,” Corvina snapped immediately. “He’s an experiment.”
The boy blinked. “An… experiment?”
“You’re studying social dynamics?” you guessed politely.
“Yes,” Corvina said quickly.
Eddie crossed his arms. “By holding hands with the quarterback?”
“Second-string quarterback,” Teddy corrected.
Everyone looked at the boy while he awkwardly raised one hand. “We lost regionals.”
Eddie burst out laughing. “Oh my God, sweetheart,” he wheezed to you. “She brought home a jock.”
“He’s not a jock.”
The boy tried to help. “I’m also on the debate team.”
You gasped softly. “How multifaceted.”
Corvina looked moments from throwing herself from the staircase.
Eddie grinned wickedly at her. “Baby bat’s got a crush.”
“I do not.”
“He knows your favorite flowers,” Teddy sang obnoxiously.
“I hate this family.”
The boy, still somehow standing there despite the obvious psychological warfare occurring around him, looked toward Corvina carefully. And to everyone’s shock, his expression softened.
“She talks about you guys a lot, actually.”
Corvina froze.
Eddie immediately clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh, my.”
“Dad.”
“She told me,” the boy continued nervously, “that her parents are… intense, but very in love.”
You smiled faintly. Corvina looked like she wanted the floorboards to consume her.
“And,” he added carefully, “that her dad still leaves dead roses on her mom’s pillow every morning.”
Eddie looked at you instantly, utterly smitten. “Baby,” he whispered emotionally, “our love is inspiring the youth.”
You reached up, smoothing your hand against his jaw affectionately. “We are deeply romantic.”
“You’re deeply weird,” Teddy corrected.
“Thank you.”
Corvina groaned. “Can we please go before they start kissing again?”
Too late. Eddie had already grabbed your hand dramatically.
“You wound me, little raven,” he said, pressing a theatrical kiss against your knuckles. “Your mother’s beauty simply overwhelms me.”
The boy stared. Teddy stared. Corvina pinched the bridge of her nose. And you, you simply looked at your husband with soft, endless devotion while thunder echoed gently overhead.
“Oh, mon amour,” you sighed lovingly. “You are still the most handsome thing this house has ever held.”
Eddie nearly died on the spot.
The house felt different when the children were gone. Corvina had vanished off to some poetry reading with her painfully polite almost-boyfriend, while Teddy was staying overnight at a friend’s house after aggressively insisting he was “old enough to survive one night without parental supervision.”
Eddie had looked personally offended by the statement.
Now the evening rain had finally stopped, leaving the world outside soaked silver beneath the moonlight.
You stood in front of the bedroom mirror, fastening a pair of silver earrings, when Eddie appeared in the doorway, already staring at you like a man deeply unwell. His dark button-up hung half-open, curls still damp from the shower, rings glinting in the candlelight.
But his expression, my God. After all these years, he still looked at you like the first breath after drowning.
“Well,” he murmured, leaning against the doorframe, “there goes every coherent thought I’ve ever had.”
You smiled softly at his reflection. “You say that every time I wear black.”
“Because every time you wear black, I fall in love with you all over again.”
“You’re very dramatic.”
“You’re very beautiful. We all cope differently.” You laughed quietly as he crossed the room toward you.
The second he reached you, his hands found your waist instinctively, warm and familiar through the fabric of your dress. He buried his face briefly against your neck with a content sigh like “this—this right here—was the safest place in the universe.”
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
You raised a brow. “Edward.”
“Please?”
Amused, you obeyed. You heard him moving around the room for a moment before something soft brushed across your palms.
Flowers.
When you opened your eyes again, Eddie stood before you holding a bouquet of black dahlias and dead roses tied together with velvet ribbon, just like your first date.
“Oh,” you whispered.
Eddie suddenly looked shy beneath all the tattoos and bravado. “I know they’re a little wilted, but Gareth’s florist cousin said—”
“They’re perfect.”
The relief on his face was immediate. You reached up carefully, fingertips brushing his cheek while he melted into your touch on instinct.
“Do you remember,” you asked softly, “what you said to me the night you gave me flowers for the first time?”
Eddie grinned a little. “Yeah.” He leaned closer. “‘Most girls want roses. You looked like you’d appreciate something half-dead.’”
“And I nearly married you on the spot.”
“You definitely wanted me carnally.”
You laughed again and kissed him gently. Eddie hummed happily against your mouth, already chasing after another kiss before you’d fully pulled away.
“Come on,” he whispered. “I’ve got a surprise.”
The graveyard sat at the edge of Hawkins beneath enormous twisted trees, moonlight filtering silver across old headstones and damp grass. Most people found it unsettling, but you found it beautiful, especially tonight.
Your breath caught softly as Eddie led you through the cemetery gates hand in hand.
Because there, beneath the crooked oak tree where he’d taken you all those years ago, sat an entire picnic laid out atop black blankets and velvet pillows. Candles flickered inside lanterns. An old radio played something metal, low enough to blend with the wind.
Your favorite wine rested beside a basket overflowing with chocolate-covered strawberries and homemade pastries, which Eddie had very obviously burnt slightly. And in the center, a vase of black dahlias. Eddie rubbed the back of his neck suddenly, almost bashful. “I know it’s kinda stupid—”
“It isn’t.”
Your voice was so soft that it stopped him immediately. He watched as you stepped slowly into the little space he’d created, moonlight catching the emotion shimmering across your face.
“You remembered everything,” you whispered.
“Course I did.”
Eddie moved closer then, taking your hands carefully. “This is where I fell in love with you,” he admitted quietly. “Figured it deserved revisiting.”
Your chest ached. Because despite all his theatrics, despite the flirting and dramatics and endless teasing, Eddie loved with terrifying sincerity, always had.
You touched his face gently. “You never told me you loved me that night.”
“No,” he said softly. “But I knew.”
The wind moved through the cemetery trees around you, carrying the scent of rain and earth and candle smoke. Then Eddie suddenly dropped dramatically onto the blanket.
“Now,” he announced, patting the spot beside him, “come seduce your husband under the moonlight.”
You smiled helplessly and settled beside him. Immediately, he pulled you into his lap like gravity itself demanded it. You curled against him easily, fingers playing with the rings on his hand while his chin rested atop your shoulder.
For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply existed there together beneath the stars, wrapped in candlelight and old music and decades worth of devotion.
Eventually, Eddie pressed a slow kiss against your neck. “You know,” he murmured, “I was so scared to bring you here on our first date.”
You turned slightly. “You were?”
“Terrified.” He laughed softly against your skin. “Wayne told me if I took a girl to a graveyard, she’d think I was either a serial killer or possessed.”
“And instead?”
“You told me it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you.”
“It still is.”
Eddie looked at you then. And suddenly he was twenty again; grease stains on his hands, heart beating too fast, staring at the most hauntingly beautiful girl he’d ever seen while wondering how someone so lovely could possibly want him back.
Only now, he knew, because you’d spent decades proving it.
His hand slid carefully against your cheek. “My sweet girl,” he whispered.
You kissed him before he could say anything else. Slow and loving, the kind of kiss built from years and years of choosing each other over and over again. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled softly again.
Eddie smiled against your mouth. “Think the kids are behaving themselves?”
You smoothed your fingers through his curls lazily. “Not our concern tonight.”
“God,” he sighed happily, pulling you impossibly closer, “I adore you.”
“Eddie,” you whispered, tilting your head as his lips brushed the side of your neck. “You’ve outdone yourself, mon amour.”
He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “Only the best for you.”
You laughed softly, and the sound made him tighten his hold, one hand sliding reverently down your side, tracing the black silk of your dress.
Eddie loved pleasing you more than anything, maybe even more than breathing. He lived for the way your breath would hitch when he touched you just right, for the way you looked at him like he was the only man in any world worth having.
His fingers found the hem of your dress and slipped beneath it, warm palm gliding up your thigh. “Let me worship you here,” he murmured, voice low and rough with devotion.
You turned in his lap, straddling him, your long dark hair falling around you both like a curtain. The cemetery was empty, the night yours alone. You cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, silver rings cool against his skin.
“Then worship me, Edward,” you said softly, the command wrapped in velvet.
Eddie’s eyes darkened with hunger and endless love. He kissed you deeply, almost reverently at first, then with growing heat as your tongues met. His hands roamed, pushing your dress up around your hips. He groaned when he realized you’d worn nothing beneath it.
“Fuuuck me,” he breathed against your mouth, a crooked, adoring grin breaking through.
“Oh my love, I plan to.”
He laughed, the sound rich and warm, then lowered you gently onto your back atop the velvet pillows. The cool night air kissed your skin as he peeled the dress from your body, kissing every inch he revealed. Your collarbones, the swell of your breasts, the soft plane of your stomach. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you with pure reverence.
He settled between your legs, curls brushing your inner thighs as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His tongue found your center with devastating patience; slow, worshipful strokes that had your fingers tightening in his hair.
He moaned into you like you were the finest thing he’d ever tasted, savoring every gasp and whisper of his name that left your lips.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against your slick flesh, voice thick. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
Your back arched as pleasure coiled tight inside you, and Eddie watched it all unfold like a man witnessing divinity. When you came undone beneath his tongue, thighs trembling around his head, he held you through it, kissing you gently until the waves subsided.
Only then did he rise, shedding his shirt and pants with reverent haste. His cock was hard and aching for you, but he took his time, crawling over you, kissing you so deeply you tasted yourself on his tongue.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, lining himself up. “More than life. More than death. More than anything in this fucking universe.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him inside you with one smooth thrust. Both of you moaned at the perfect fit; years together, and it still felt like coming home.
Eddie moved with slow, deep rolls of his hips, savoring every clench of your walls around him. His forehead pressed to yours, curls falling around your faces as he gazed into your eyes.
“Look at me while I fuck you, baby,” he breathed, devotion dripping from every word. “Want to see those saintly eyes when you come on my cock again.”
The cemetery felt alive around you; the wind whispering through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, the scent of earth and night-blooming flowers mixing with sweat and sex. Eddie’s pace gradually quickened, one hand sliding between you to circle your clit while the other pinned your wrist gently above your head.
You came again with a soft, broken cry of his name, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as pleasure wrecked him. Even then, he kept moving; lazy, loving thrusts to draw it out, kissing you through every aftershock.
Afterward, he collapsed beside you and immediately pulled you into his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine while your leg draped over his hip.
Eddie pressed a kiss to your hair, voice hoarse with satisfaction. “I’d desecrate every grave in Hawkins if it meant making you feel like that.”
You smiled against his chest, fingertips playing with the silver strands beginning to thread through his dark curls. “If we keep this up, Corvina and Teddy may have a sibling.”
“Would that be so bad? Another mini-Munson running around, raising hell?”
You rolled your eyes lovingly, planting a few peppered kisses along his chest and jaw. “Poor Principal Higgins wouldn’t know what to do with himself with a third Munson.”
Dinner in the Creel-Munson House was rarely quiet. Not because anyone particularly tried to be loud, it was simply impossible for four Munsons to exist in the same room without the atmosphere becoming theatrical.
Thunder groaned outside while candlelight flickered across the dining room, illuminating velvet curtains, silver dishes, and the massive candelabra Teddy insisted made “every meal feel like a vampire intervention.”
Tonight, Eddie had been suspiciously smug since five o’clock, you noticed immediately. Corvina noticed immediately. Teddy noticed immediately. Which meant all three of you spent most of dinner staring at him with increasing suspicion while he fought a grin behind his wine glass.
Finally, Teddy pointed his fork accusingly. “You’re hiding something.”
Eddie gasped dramatically. “What a horrible accusation.”
“You’ve been smirking for an hour,” Corvina added.
“You also called the garlic bread ‘historic,’” Teddy said. “That means something’s wrong.”
You smiled faintly from your seat at the head of the table. “Darling,” you said gently to Eddie, “are you planning a crime?”
Eddie looked delighted by the question. “No,” he answered proudly. “Something better.”
Then, with all the ceremony of a man revealing the crown jewels, Eddie reached into his jacket and slapped four tickets dramatically onto the table. Silence.
Teddy squinted. Then his eyes widened so violently you thought they might leave his skull.
“No fucking way.”
“Language,” you corrected softly.
“No FUCKING way.”
Corvina leaned forward slightly now, dark eyes narrowing in interest. Eddie sat back in his chair with unbearable smugness. “Iron Maiden,” he announced grandly. “Indianapolis. Front section.”
Teddy SHRIEKED, like actually shrieked. The sound echoed through the dining room while Eddie burst into laughter.
“Oh my God,” Teddy gasped, grabbing the tickets with trembling hands. “Dad—Dad, are you serious?!”
“Your old man still has connections, baby.”
Teddy launched out of his chair instantly.
You sighed knowingly. “Brace yourself, mon amour.”
A second later, Teddy practically tackled Eddie backward in a hug. “There he is,” Eddie wheezed dramatically as Teddy nearly crushed him. “My son. My flesh and blood.”
“You are the coolest person alive.”
“I know.”
Corvina, meanwhile, carefully picked up one of the tickets with much more restraint. But you noticed the tiny upward twitch at the corner of her mouth immediately.
“Dickinson is still performing?” she asked calmly.
Eddie clutched his chest. “That sounded almost excited.”
“It wasn’t.”
“She got the Munson concert gene,” Teddy informed you loudly.
“She absolutely did,” Eddie whispered emotionally. Corvina rolled her eyes, though there was the faintest flush creeping into her cheeks now. You watched your family fondly from your chair, chin resting against your hand.
This. This was your favorite thing.
Eddie glowing with happiness while the children inherited every loud, passionate, ridiculous piece of him without even realizing it. Teddy flopped back into his chair, grinning wildly.
“This is literally the greatest day of my life.”
Eddie pointed at him immediately. “That’s exactly what I said when your mother kissed me the first time.”
“You say that about everything Mom does,” Corvina muttered.
“Because your mother is extraordinary.”
You reached over and touched his hand gently, as Eddie looked at you like he’d been shot directly through the heart.
Then, Corvina cleared her throat, causing everyone to look at her immediately.
“…What,” she said flatly.
Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You’re about to ask for something.”
“I’m not.”
“You did the voice.”
Teddy gasped dramatically. “She DID do the voice.”
Corvina looked deeply regretful. “I hate all of you.”
You smiled softly. “What is it, little raven?”
A pause. Then, with visible reluctance: “…Could I possibly have one additional ticket?”
The room went silent, and Eddie blinked once. Then slowly lowered his wine glass.
“…For who?”
Corvina stared at her plate. “No one.”
“Corvina.”
Another pause.
“…Damien.”
Eddie’s entire body reacted as if he’d just been informed the government had finally collapsed.
“THE BOYFRIEND?”
“He is not—”
“The assistant quarterback?!” Teddy shouted.
“THE DEBATE CLUB ONE?” Eddie cried simultaneously.
Corvina groaned into her hands. You, meanwhile, were trying very hard not to smile.
“He likes Iron Maiden,” Corvina muttered.
Eddie looked genuinely betrayed. “The clean-cut child likes Maiden?”
“He listens to metal with me.”
Eddie stared at her for a long moment. Then suddenly leaned back in his chair, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“She likes him.”
“I do not.”
“She’s sharing music with him,” Eddie whispered hoarsely to you. “Baby, that’s intimate.”
Teddy looked horrified. “That’s like… sacred.”
“Exactly.”
Corvina looked ready to walk into traffic. You finally spoke, voice warm with amusement.
“Perhaps,” you said carefully, “she simply enjoys his company.”
Corvina nodded quickly. “Exactly.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes immediately. “Have you held hands?”
“Dad.”
“HAVE you?”
“No.” Too fast.
Teddy slammed both hands on the table. “THAT WAS A LIE.”
Corvina pointed at him. “You are dead to me.”
Eddie suddenly looked emotional again. “Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed dramatically, “your first love.”
“It’s not love!”
You stood then, gliding around the table toward your daughter. Corvina visibly braced herself for teasing. Instead, you simply smoothed a strand of dark hair behind her ear gently.
And very softly, you said: “If someone makes our little raven smile enough to frighten her this badly… we should like to know him.”
Corvina froze. Because despite all the drama and teasing, your family loved hard. Openly, and without shame, just like Eddie always had.
The house had long since gone quiet. Somewhere downstairs, the grandfather clock groaned past midnight while rain tapped softly against the windows of your bedroom. Eddie lay sprawled across your chest like an oversized cat, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while you lazily played with his curls.
This had always been his favorite place to exist, right here, with you.
Even after all these years, he still sought you out instinctively. Every night, somehow ended the same way: his head in your lap, or tucked against your chest, or buried into your neck while he mumbled half-asleep nonsense against your skin. Tonight was no different.
“You know,” Eddie murmured sleepily, eyes closed, “I think Corvina gets scarier every day.”
You smiled softly, carefully winding one silver-threaded curl around your finger. “She is your daughter.”
“Exactly why I’m concerned.”
“You cried when she said she held his hand.”
“I did not cry.”
“You absolutely did.”
Eddie cracked one eye open. “I became emotional.”
“You gasped loud enough to frighten Teddy.”
“That was fatherly grief.”
Your laugh came soft and quiet in the dark. God, he loved that sound.
Eddie tilted his head slightly against you just to hear it again. Then your fingers paused suddenly in his curls, a tiny thing, barely noticeable. But Eddie felt it immediately.
“What?” he murmured.
You said nothing at first. Instead, your fingers carefully separated one curl from the rest, then another. Eddie finally looked up slightly, finding your expression softened by something achingly tender.
“My darling,” you whispered.
“Hm?”
You gently pulled something free: a silver strand, then another.
Eddie blinked once. “Oh,” he said.
There was no fear in his voice, just surprise. You held the strands delicately between your fingers, studying them beneath candlelight like they were precious threads of moonlight themselves.
Eddie suddenly looked sheepish. “Well,” he muttered, “guess I’m getting old.”
You looked almost offended by the statement. “Edward Munson,” you said softly, “you have survived.”
You slid from beneath him carefully, crossing toward the antique vanity near the window while Eddie watched you in sleepy confusion.
Then you reached for the little silver locket resting beside your jewelry tray, the one you wore nearly every day, etched with the letter ‘E’.
Eddie pushed himself upright slightly as you opened it carefully. Inside rested tiny fragments of your life together.
A pressed black rose petal from your wedding bouquet. A piece of the guitar pick Eddie used the first time he played guitar for you. A photograph so faded it barely showed two young people grinning in a cemetery beneath storm clouds.
Eddie went completely still.
You placed the silver strands gently beside them, like they were treasures. Then you closed the locket softly and climbed back into bed.
Eddie stared at you for a long moment after you settled beside him again. “…You kept all that?”
You looked genuinely puzzled. “Of course I did.”
“Baby, there’s literally a piece of an old guitar pick in there.”
“The broken corner because you were nervous while playing for me.”
His expression cracked instantly. “You remember that?”
“You dropped it three times before speaking to me,” you replied calmly. “You were adorable.”
Eddie let out a weak laugh, suddenly overwhelmed in the way only you could overwhelm him. Because no one had ever looked at the broken, embarrassing, vulnerable pieces of him and treated them like sacred things before you.
Your fingers slowly returned to his curls. “You know what I see,” you murmured softly, “when I look at these?”
Eddie shook his head once.
“A life.”
His eyes burned immediately, so you kissed his forehead gently.
“The silver only proves you stayed long enough to grow old with me,” you whispered.
And that nearly destroyed him. Eddie suddenly pulled himself over you completely, burying his face into your neck while holding you tight enough to make you laugh softly again.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled against your skin. “How are you real?”
You stroked your fingers through his curls carefully, silver strands and all. “I might ask you the same thing.”
“No, seriously,” Eddie groaned dramatically. “You put my gray hairs in a locket. That’s insane behavior.”
“You married me willingly.”
“I’d marry you in every lifetime.”
Your expression softened instantly. Eddie lifted his head, then just enough to look at you through the candlelight; older now, yes, lines at the corners of his eyes and silver threading through dark curls.
But still the same boy who fell hopelessly in love with a gothic girl in black lace all those years ago. Still yours, always yours.
“You know what the worst part is?” he murmured sleepily.
“What’s that, mon amour?”
“I still get nervous around you.”
You smiled. Then pulled him down into another kiss while rain whispered softly against the windows of your haunted little home.
AGH I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED ITTT:)))
Hell of a Summer pt.2 is currently in the works, GET EXCITEDDDD YUHHH
description: everyone in hawkins thinks you and eddie munson are already married. honestly? you can’t even blame them. between the shared garage, the constant flirting, and the way he cannot help but stare, it’s getting harder and harder to pretend there’s nothing going on between you.
pairing: mechanic!eddie x mechanic!reader (fem!reader)
tags: mechanic!eddie, eddie x you, no y/n, coworkers to lovers, unresolved sexual tension (until...), small town romance, flirtationship, mechanic core aftercare, old married couple energy, fucking on a '67 impala, workplace romance, tension tension tension, whimpering eddie, teasing each other mercilessly
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!!!, PiV, unprotected, needy eddie
WC: 4.1k
A/N: requested by my beloved @bitterestwillow I HOPE YOU ENJOY QUEEN AHHHHHHH. reblogs are a writer's best friend <3
yes, i had to use this gif for this fic...it does something to me idk......
The bell above the garage door jingled as Mrs. Patterson dug through her purse for her checkbook, glasses sliding halfway down her nose, while you leaned against the counter with a rag tucked into your back pocket.
“So,” you said, tapping the invoice with your pen, “the rattling sound was your serpentine belt. Thing was practically shredded.”
The elderly woman gasped softly. “Oh, dear.”
“Yeah, but you caught it before it snapped completely, which is good. We replaced the belt, topped off your coolant, changed the oil, and Eddie patched that little leak underneath your radiator.” You smiled reassuringly. “She’s good as new now.”
Beside her, Mr. Patterson squinted out toward the garage floor where the familiar sound of classic rock echoed through the open bays. “Which one’s Eddie again?”
Almost on cue, Eddie emerged from beneath a lifted pickup truck with grease smeared across his cheek and curls shoved back with a bandana.
Sweat darkened the collar of his black tank top, coveralls hanging around his hips, while he carried over a sweating tray of lemonade cups.
“There you are,” he said, setting them carefully on the counter. “It’s too damn hot outside not to hydrate.”
Mrs. Patterson practically lit up. “Well, aren’t you sweet?”
“Tell her that more often,” Eddie said, jerking his thumb toward you. “She’s mean to me.”
You rolled your eyes. “I told you to stop using the good shop towels to wipe down your van.”
“They’re towels.”
“They are expensive towels.”
Mr. Patterson laughed under his breath while Eddie handed them their drinks with an exaggerated flourish.
“Anything for my favorite customers.”
Mrs. Patterson smiled fondly at him before looking back toward you. “That husband of yours is such a gentleman.”
You nearly choked on your own spit.
Eddie froze for exactly one second before slowly turning toward you with the most insufferable grin imaginable.
“Oh?” he said. “You hear that, sweetheart?”
“Oh my God,” you muttered immediately.
The poor woman looked horrified. “Oh! I’m sorry, I just assumed—”
“No, no,” Eddie cut in smoothly, leaning against the counter. “Please continue. This is the best day of my life.”
You shot him a glare while he looked seconds away from laughing himself unconscious.
Mrs. Patterson pointed knowingly between the two of you. “You’ve got the look.”
“What look?” you asked suspiciously.
“The ‘been in love for years’ look.”
Eddie outright cackled. You grabbed the invoice and shoved it toward them. “Okay! Your total is—.”
The elderly couple left smiling to themselves while Eddie leaned against the counter, watching you with entirely too much amusement. The second the door shut behind them, he pushed off the counter and followed you toward the office.
“Husband, huh?” he mused.
“Don’t start.”
“I personally think it has a nice ring to it.”
You dropped into the squeaky office chair with a dramatic groan. “You’re unbearable.”
Eddie leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “And yet you keep having me back every morning.”
“You work here.”
“Semantics.”
“Hey,” Eddie said suddenly.
You looked up, and he tossed something shiny toward you, and you barely caught it before it hit your face. Your keys, the little keychain Dustin made you years ago, swung between your fingers.
“You left ‘em by the toolbox again.”
“Oh.” You blinked. “Thanks.”
“Mmhm,” he hummed smugly. “Good thing your husband’s lookin’ out for you.”
You pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
Instead of leaving, Eddie just grinned wider, sunlight pouring in behind him from the open garage bays.
“Say it once.”
“No.”
“C’mon, sweetheart. Just one little ‘thank you, my husband.’”
You threw a balled-up receipt at his head while his laughter rang through the entire garage.
By noon, the July heat had turned the garage into a furnace.
Every bay door was rolled open, old fans rattling uselessly in the corners while the smell of motor oil, hot pavement, and cigarette smoke clung heavily in the air.
Foreigner blasted low from the radio perched near Eddie’s toolbox, occasionally cutting out whenever someone used the compressor.
You were bent over the hood of a Mustang, wiping grease from your hands while talking to a customer, your laugh carrying across the shop floor. And across said shop floor, Eddie was staring. Not subtly, either.
Steve had noticed immediately, mostly because Eddie had been holding the exact same wrench for nearly three minutes without moving.
Steve slowly lowered his sandwich. “Jesus Christ.”
“Hm?” Eddie hummed absently.
“You are down catastrophically bad.”
That got Eddie to blink. “What?”
Steve pointed dramatically across the garage where you were explaining something with animated hand gestures, sunlight catching the sheen of sweat on your skin.
“You’ve been staring at her this entire time.”
Eddie scoffed, finally looking away. “I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
“I’m working.”
“You’ve been holding that wrench upside down.”
Eddie glanced down, and sure enough, he was.
“Shut up.”
Steve barked out a laugh and leaned back in the lawn chair they’d dragged outside for Eddie's lunch break. It was honestly kind of ridiculous to witness at this point.
Everyone in Hawkins knew something was going on between the two of you, except apparently the two of you.
The lingering touches, the teasing, the way Eddie always magically appeared beside you whenever some asshole customer got too flirty.
The way you unconsciously reached for his cigarettes to steal one straight from his mouth…and the constant staring, especially the staring.
Steve watched Eddie’s eyes drift right back over toward you again.
“Oh my God,” he groaned. “There he goes again.”
Eddie ignored him completely. You’d just looked up from the engine bay, pushing hair from your forehead with the back of your wrist, and the second your eyes met Eddie’s from across the garage, you smiled.
It was quick, maybe two milliseconds, but enough to make Eddie smile back immediately without even realizing it. Steve made a loud fake gagging noise.
Eddie finally tore his eyes away. “What is your problem?”
Steve stared at him incredulously. “Dude. I genuinely thought you two would be married by now.”
Eddie choked on his drink. “What?”
“I’m serious,” Steve continued. “Like three years ago, I would've put money on it.”
Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, trying very hard to act unaffected while heat crept up beneath the grease on his cheeks.
“Yeah, well,” he muttered. “Hasn’t happened.”
“Why not?”
Eddie began to argue, but froze up. Because honestly? He didn’t fucking know.
Somewhere along the way, the flirting had become second nature. So had the late nights at the garage together. So had sharing fries at the diner after closing. So, had you climbing into the passenger seat of his van without asking. So had you wearing his flannels whenever the shop got cold in winter.
It had all become so normal that crossing the line felt weirdly terrifying. Steve watched the gears turning in Eddie’s head and sighed dramatically.
“You’re both idiots.”
“Says you.”
“I’m serious.” Steve pointed between him and you across the garage. “She might as well have personally invented beer by the way you stare at her. It’s honestly kinda sad, man.”
Eddie snorted. “That’s dramatic.”
Steve deadpanned, “You literally stopped mid-cigarette yesterday because she walked by in shorts.”
“That is such a lie!”
“It is the truth.”
Before Eddie could argue, your voice cut across the garage.
“Munson!” Both men looked over.
You stood beside the Mustang with your hands on your hips. “You gonna come help me, or are you too busy staring at me again?”
Steve immediately burst into obnoxious laughter while Eddie nearly dropped his beer. And from the way you smirked before ducking back under the hood, you absolutely knew what you were doing.
The next morning was somehow even hotter.
By ten a.m., the air inside the garage already felt thick enough to chew through, every fan working overtime while the sun beat down through the open bay doors. You had your coveralls tied around your waist, a cropped tank clinging to your skin with sweat, as you worked under the hood of a Jeep.
And Eddie was being an absolute menace. It started innocent enough; he’d complained dramatically about the heat for twenty minutes straight before finally yanking his shirt over his head with a frustrated, “I’m gonna die in this godforsaken town.”
You had looked up at exactly the wrong moment. Because suddenly there was just, Eddie. Shirtless. Hair tied back messily at the nape of his neck. Grease streaked across his stomach and chest. Dog tag and guitar pic hanging against tan skin. His jeans slung low on his hips while he wiped sweat from the back of his neck with a rag.
And the worst part? The asshole noticed immediately. You looked away so fast you nearly smacked your head against the underside of the hood. From somewhere across the garage, you heard another mechanic whistle loudly.
“Ohhhh,” he sang. “How the tables have turned.”
“Shut up, Mark,” you muttered.
Eddie, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself. For the next hour, he became absolutely insufferable. Needlessly stretching, standing too close, asking you to hand him tools he absolutely could’ve reached himself.
At one point, he bent over the engine bay beside you, and you caught the smell of gasoline, cigarette smoke, and his cologne and nearly forgot your own name.
“Wrench?” he asked casually, but you evidently handed him the wrong one.
Eddie bit back a grin. “Sweetheart, this is a screwdriver.”
Heat flooded your face. From behind him, Mark made an obnoxious gagging noise, and you narrowed your eyes.
Fine. If Eddie wanted to play this game? Two could absolutely play. Play a stupid game, win a stupid prize, right?
About twenty minutes later, Eddie was halfway underneath a truck when he heard your laugh ring across the garage.
That’s not unusual. However, what was unusual was the guy you were laughing with. Some customer leaned against the front counter while you smiled up at him, twirling a socket wrench lazily between your fingers.
Eddie immediately rolled himself out from under the truck on the creeper.
“What’s that?” Mark asked innocently from nearby.
“Nothing,” Eddie muttered.
“Looks like jealousy.”
“Not jealous.”
“Mhm.”
The customer laughed at something you said, briefly touching your arm, which caused Eddie to sit up straighter. Then the asshole smiled.
“Oh,” Mark murmured. “He’s flirting.”
Eddie stood immediately.
Mark burst out laughing. “THERE he is.”
Before Eddie could storm over there and make an idiot of himself, the rumble of an engine pulled into the lot. All three of you looked over automatically, and then Eddie froze.
“No fucking way.”
The car rolling slowly into the garage was gorgeous: black paint gleaming beneath the sunlight, chrome shining, low growl of the engine unmistakable.
A 1967 Chevy Impala. The entire garage seemed to pause.
Even you looked impressed. “Well,” you said softly. “Would you look at that?”
The driver climbed out, explaining something about rough idling and overheating, but Eddie barely heard a word. Because holy shit, it was pristine.
You walked slowly around the car, fingertips dragging lightly over the hood appreciatively. “She’s beautiful.”
And unfortunately for Eddie? The way you said it sounded dangerously similar to the tone you sometimes used with him. Mark caught the look on Eddie’s face and immediately started grinning.
“You alright there, big guy?”
Eddie ignored him entirely, stepping beside you near the Impala. “Think it’s the thermostat,” he murmured, eyes flicking toward you instead of the car.
You glanced up, and there it was again: that stupid tension. Especially when your gaze dipped briefly down his bare chest before snapping back up. A smug little grin tugged at his mouth.
“Oh, now who’s staring?” he asked quietly.
You held his gaze for a long second before reaching forward and grabbing the grease rag tucked into the back of his jeans. Eddie blinked, then watched you slowly wipe your grease-covered hands on it while maintaining eye contact.
Mark made a strangled noise somewhere behind him while the customer looked wildly confused. And Eddie? Eddie looked like he was about two seconds away from losing his mind entirely.
By the time the sun finally started setting, the garage had gone quiet.
The OPEN sign in the front window buzzed faintly before Eddie reached up and flicked it off with grease-stained fingers, plunging the office into dim golden light. Outside, cicadas screamed into the warm Indiana night while the last of the heat clung stubbornly to the concrete floors.
Most nights ended like this lately. Just you and Eddie lingering hours after closing, claiming there was still work to finish when really neither of you seemed particularly eager to leave.
The Impala sat in the center bay now, hood propped open while you leaned halfway into the engine compartment with a flashlight between your teeth. From the radio near Eddie’s toolbox, a slow rock song crackled softly through static.
And across the garage, Eddie was still shirtless, still. All damn day.
You tightened something with your ratchet a little harder than necessary before finally glancing over toward him. He was bent over the workbench this time, curls falling loose from his hair tie while sweat gleamed across his shoulders under the overhead lights.
Honestly, it was getting ridiculous.
“You know shirts exist for a reason, right?” you called.
Eddie didn’t even look up. “Do they?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.”
You rolled your eyes, ducking back under the hood. “Pretty sure OSHA would have a field day with you.”
That finally made him laugh. Then you heard the scrape of his boots as they crossed the garage floor. A second later, Eddie appeared beside you, leaning against the Impala with crossed arms.
Still shirtless, and still oh-so-very smug. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked innocently. “You don’t like what you see?”
You made the mistake of looking at him fully then. Big mistake, because up close was somehow worse.
Grease streaked across his stomach, forearms flexing where they crossed over each other, and his stupid hair half falling out of the tie from working all day.
Your eyes dipped for half a second too long, and Eddie caught it immediately with a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Oh my God,” he murmured. “You do.”
You snapped your gaze back to the engine. “Shut up.”
“Nah.” He leaned closer. “C’mon, tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re sweaty.”
“Thought girls liked that.”
“I don’t.”
“Liar.”
Heat crawled up your neck as you tried very hard to focus on the engine instead of the fact that Eddie was standing close enough for his knee to brush yours every few seconds.
“You’ve been staring at me all day,” he said softly.
You scoffed. “You wish.”
“You handed me a screwdriver this morning because you were too busy looking at my chest.”
“That happened one time.”
“And then you wiped your hands on my jeans while making eye contact with me like a psychopath.”
A smile tugged at your mouth despite yourself. “That was funny.”
“It was hot.”
Your ratchet slipped loudly against the engine, then silence. Then Eddie laughed quietly under his breath. You pointed the flashlight at him threateningly. “Don’t.”
But Eddie just leaned further over the hood beside you until your shoulders bumped.
“You know,” he said casually, “if this is your way of admitting you’re into me, there are easier methods.”
You snorted. “Into you? Please.”
“Sweetheart, half this town thinks we’re married already.”
“That’s because old people are nosy.”
“That’s because you look at me like that.”
You frowned. “Like what?”
Eddie’s eyes flicked slowly over your face, enough to make your stomach flip and your face burn pink. “Like you want to kiss me every time I open my mouth.”
Eddie’s grin faltered just slightly when you stepped closer instead of backing away.
“Oh yeah?” you asked lightly.
His eyes flicked over your face. “Yeah.”
You crossed your arms, leaning against the Impala beside him now, shoulder brushing his bare arm. “What about you, huh?”
Eddie blinked once. “What about me?”
“You think I don’t notice?” you continued, voice quieter now. “The staring. Following me around the shop all day?”
“That is not—”
“You literally almost dropped a transmission last month because I called you pretty.”
“That was one time.”
A smile tugged at your mouth. “Mhm.”
Eddie opened his mouth to argue again, but you stepped even closer first, close enough now that he had to tilt his head down to look at you properly. And suddenly, he wasn’t smirking anymore.
Interesting.
“You wanna know what I think?” you murmured.
Eddie swallowed visibly. “What?”
You reached up slowly, fingers hooking around the chain of his dog tags. The sharp inhale he took was immediate.
“Oh, you like this way more than I do.”
His eyes went dark instantly. “Careful,” he said softly.
“Or what?”
Eddie laughed once under his breath, disbelieving almost, like he couldn’t decide if you were trying to kill him on purpose. Then, the tension snapped like a fan belt under too much strain.
You tugged harder on Eddie’s dog tags, pulling him down until his mouth crashed into yours. He groaned into the kiss; raw, needy, and immediately pliant.
His hands hovered at your waist like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch, even after years of circling this exact moment. You solved that for him by grabbing his wrists and planting his grease-streaked palms firmly on your ass.
“Kiss me like you mean it, Munson,” you growled against his lips.
Eddie melted. His mouth opened for you instantly, tongue sliding hot and desperate against yours while you backed him up against the Impala’s fender.
He tasted like cigarettes and the beer he definitely should not have had earlier, and he whimpered, actually whimpered, when you bit his bottom lip and sucked it between your teeth.
“Fuck… sweetheart,” he panted when you finally let him breathe. His cock was already straining against the front of his coveralls, obvious and aching. You shoved a hand between you and palmed him roughly through the fabric. Eddie’s hips jerked forward into your grip with a broken sound.
“Close the hood,” you ordered, voice low.
Eddie blinked, dazed. “Wh—”
“Now.”
He scrambled to obey, reaching over and slamming the heavy hood of the Impala shut with a solid thunk that echoed through the empty garage. The second it latched, you pushed him back, hopped up onto the glossy black hood, and spread your legs in invitation.
Your coveralls were already half-off, tank top shoved up, work jeans unbuttoned, and yanked down your thighs along with your underwear in one impatient motion. Eddie’s eyes went wide and dark, pupils blown as he stared at your exposed pussy glistening under the overhead lights.
“On your knees,” you said, hooking a boot behind his shoulder to drag him forward.
He dropped so fast his knees probably bruised on the concrete. The first drag of his tongue was tentative, almost reverent—then you grabbed a fistful of his messy curls and ground against his face, and Eddie moaned like he’d been waiting his whole life for this.
He licked broad and sloppy, sucking your clit between his lips exactly how you liked it once you told him, “Higher—there, fuck, just like that.”
His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, but he never tried to take control. Every time you tugged his hair or rolled your hips, he whimpered gratefully into your cunt and doubled down, tongue fucking into you while his nose rubbed perfect circles against your clit.
Sweat and grease streaked his bare chest; his cock was leaking a wet spot through his coveralls. You came hard on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head as you rode his face through it, moaning his name loud enough that it probably carried out the open bay doors.
Eddie kept licking you through the aftershocks like he couldn’t bear to stop. When you finally pushed his head back, his chin was shiny with your slick, lips swollen, eyes glassy and adoring.
For a second, you thought he was going to stay soft, sweet, and submissive, but then he grabbed your hips, spun you around, and bent you over the warm hood in one rough motion.
“Eddie—” you started, but he was already kicking your feet apart.
“Please,” he whined, voice cracked and needy as he shoved his coveralls and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It slapped heavily against your ass, dripping wet. “Need to be inside you—fuck, I can’t wait anymore.”
He didn’t give you time to answer. He lined up and pushed in with one desperate thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The broken whimper that tore out of him was pure filth.
“Oh my god—oh fuck, you’re so tight,” he gasped, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades. His hips jerked forward again, shallow and frantic. “Feels so good… so fucking good—”
You gripped the edge of the hood, moaning as he started fucking you harder. He was still whimpering and panting with every thrust, but he had you pinned now; big hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, cock driving deep and relentless.
“Eddie—shit—”
“I’m sorry, I just—fuck—” He sounded wrecked, voice cracking as he slammed into you again, the car rocking under the force. One hand slid around to rub messy circles over your clit, too desperate to be coordinated, but perfect anyway. “Can’t stop…wanted this for so fucking long—”
You pushed back against him, and he sobbed a moan, pace turning sloppy and needy.
“Please—please let me come inside you,” he begged right in your ear, hips snapping faster. “I’ll be good—I'll be so good for you, just—fuck, I’m so close already—”
You clenched around him on purpose, and his rhythm stuttered, another broken moan spilling out as his cock throbbed inside you.
He came with a loud, shattered moan, hips jerking as he pumped deep inside you, shuddering and whimpering through every pulse. Even after he finished, he stayed buried in you, breathing hard against your neck, cock still twitching.
“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “I think I just died.”
You laughed breathlessly and gently tugged his hair. “Good,” you murmured.
You sat on the edge of the workbench, now wrapped loosely in Eddie’s discarded flannel, while he rummaged through one of the lockers near the tiny office bathroom.
“You alive over there?” he called.
“Mhm.”
“Liar. You sound deceased.”
You laughed tiredly, resting your cheek against your shoulder as you watched him move around the shop, half-dressed and still unfairly attractive. Honestly, it should’ve annoyed you more. Instead, your chest felt warm.
Eddie finally turned around, holding a towel triumphantly over his head. “Ha! Told you I left one here.”
“You keep towels at the shop?”
“Sweetheart, sometimes engines explode on me.”
He crossed back over toward you, hair falling loose around his face again now that the tie had disappeared somewhere in the chaos.
Up close, you noticed how pink his cheeks still were, how his lips looked swollen from the relentless eating and hungry kisses.
“C’mon,” he said gently, nudging your knee apart so he could stand between them. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
The bathroom attached to the office was tiny and honestly kind of terrible. Half the lightbulbs buzzed, the water pressure sucked, and the shower curtain had little motor oil stains near the bottom from years of mechanics rinsing off after long shifts. Still, with Eddie in there with you somehow, it felt strangely intimate.
You stood beneath the spray, rinsing soap from your arms while Eddie sat on the little built-in ledge beside you, lazily rubbing shampoo through your hair with surprising gentleness.
“There’s no way you know how to do this,” you mumbled.
“I’m multi-talented.”
“You use dish soap on your hair sometimes.”
“That is slander.”
You snorted softly while he carefully worked his fingers through the ends of your hair. His touch slowed after a minute, fingertips brushing lightly along the back of your neck.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
The softness in his voice caught you off guard, and you turned slightly to look at him. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Then he reached forward, wiping a little mascara smudge from beneath your eye with his thumb. “Pretty girl,” he murmured.
You leaned against the tile wall while Eddie stood close enough for the warm water to run down both of you at once. Then, after a long, quiet moment, he grinned suddenly.
“So.”
You narrowed your eyes immediately. “What?”
“You think fucking on an Impala counts as our first date?”
anywayy... hope you all enjoyed ;) dean winchester fic coming later today if you're interested MUAHAHAHA
