lilac

the sun loved the moon so much, she died every night to let her breathe.

[kirammanss]

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

lilac

{🪽} infj-t ⋆ she ⋆ tlou ⋆ arcane ⋆ autistic ⋆ sfw + nsfw ⋆ i love astronomy ⋆ yapper ⋆ caitlyn kiramman obsessed ⋆ pro at typing with acrylics ⋆ 🇬🇧 ⋆ 20

m.list

men dni

[angelovebitten]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ tattoos

| eddie pays you a late night visit to show his newest tattoo. cutesy fluff, eddie being an absolute sweetheart & making out.

You were taking advantage of the quiet house and catching up on some reading that finally wasn't for school. You laid with the book at the foot of your. bed, and your feet dangling over your pile of stuffed animals right by your pillows.

what brought you back was the terrifying sound of someone knocking on your window, cutting through the silence of your room like a knife. It scared you right out of your haze. carefully dog earring the page you were currently on and sliding off your bed, you made your to the window, after the first wave of fear faded, you knew there’s only one person that would visit you at this hour

Eddie was standing right outside the window, with a stupid grin on his face, and he was pointing to the windowsill, wordlessly asking you to let him in.

"What the hell Eddie. what you doing here?" You quietly asked him as he made his way over your windowsill, feet landing on the floor with a soft thud.

"Not happy to see me?"

"You scared the hell out of me" you watched Eddie make his way through your room, like it was the most natural thing ever "why didn’t you told me you were coming, my parents could’ve been here"

"I didn't know I was coming over until I was already in my van. I haven't seen you in forever, plus I had something I wanted to show you."

"It's been two days since you last saw me." You were trying to sound stern, really. "But what is it that I have to see?"

He let out an exaggerated sigh as he flopped down on the end of your bed. He looked up at you with fake sadness. "I should have known you would only like me for material things, Madonna."

"So what if I was a material girl? You'd still love me anyways." you couldn’t help but smile a bit as well while you followed him to your bed.

"It’s just sad—" you jumped at the sudden volume of his voice, if your parents didn’t already got suspicious at the amount of footsteps from your room, they’d at least get now.

You reached towards him to cover his mouth with your hand. As much as you loved his antics and would encourage it at any other time, it was all quiet in your house and you were petrified of waking your Family.

"Are you crazy?" You asked him in a hushed scold.

He just nodded happily since he couldn't speak with your hand still over his mouth.

"If my dad hears you, he'll burst into the room with a gun in his hand. You might be able to charm the pants off of me effortlessly, but I think you'd get shot if you tried to test your charisma on him"

You cautiously took your hand away from Eddie's face while he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Stop looking at me like that and show me what you wanted me to see in the first place."

Eddie stood up and took off his jeans jacket, letting it fall somewhere on the floor. You figured he was just making himself comfortable, but when he started taking off the t-shirt as well.

On his right side, where his rib cage ends, there was a new tattoo. A flaming sword that you knew was based on his current-and favourite-Dungeons and Dragons campaign of his.

He pointed to the pommel of the weapon, which was a heart shaped gemstone. "Did you see the end? It doesn't have anything to do with the game, but I designed it while thinking of you." He smiled at you, and you smiled back. "Do you like it?"

"God Ed‘s, I love it" you slowly traced the still reddish outlines of the black ink with your fingers "when did you get it?"

"Friday. Right after your dad picked you up from the mall."

"did it hurt?"

He shook his head as he gently pushed you back against your pillows, then positioned himself on top of you.

"Not as much as it hurts to be away from you!"

You had to stifle your own laugh at his corniness. As stupid as it was, you did feel kind of flattered by him at that moment. And that's exactly why you let him kiss you, despite you being just a few decibels away from your sleeping father waking up and grounding you permanently for sneaking a boy in.

But you pushed all your worries aside and let him press his luscious lips against yours. God, how you couldn't get enough of that sensation. The rougher his lips started to wander over your skin, the louder your sounds.

"Ed- Eddie stop-" He didn't thought of it "please w-we have school tomorrow, and If my parents Catch us, you'll probably never hear from me again"

"Come on... just five more minutes" Eddie whispered, his voice low and warm against your mouth.

You should have pushed him away then, should have reminded him that the walls in your house were thin and your parents were light sleepers. Instead you stayed where you were, fingers tangled in the soft curls at the back of his neck, letting the quiet of the night wrap around the two of you. His kisses were slow, unhurried, as if time had somehow softened just for this moment.

A sound in the hallway made you both still. Eddie pulled back first, a quiet breath leaving him as a crooked smile returned to his face. “Alright,” he murmured gently.

One last kiss, softer than the others, and then he stepped back toward the window. He climbed onto the sill with easy familiarity, "Sweet Dreams"

You leaned toward the window just in time to see him land softly on the grass below. Eddie looked up at you, brushing his hair from his face before giving you a dramatic little bow, one hand over his heart.

"Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast. Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest." the quoting painted a small smile on your lips as you watched him walk back to his car, parked in the road next to your house.

[tankhall]

In 2018, I wrote down a passing thought in my cheap little leather-bound journal I was writing a collection of songs in that would go on to become Preacher’s Daughter. “If I finish this album the way it needs to be finished, it will change my life, and it will leave a hole in my heart for years that I won’t know how to fill.” I’ve always had a knack for eerily accurate self-premonition. Preacher’s Daughter certainly left a hole, and it certainly changed my life, but only on the outside. All the songs I wrote for it were about characters, a girl in a “faraway” place living her “faraway” life, albeit still parallel to mine, but wholly detached from me. Willoughby was doomed to be closer to home. I wrote Nettles and Waco the same week, the first week I spent in the Alabama house where I would finish Preacher’s Daughter after so many years of trying. The difference was I wrote them about me. There were no characters at first; it was just me. In fact, I wrote them in an attempt to hide from Ethel Cain for a moment. She eventually devoured those little ditties too, of course, as she always does. In hindsight, I’m glad I had to share them with her. I couldn’t have carried the full weight of them myself, I know that now. My premonitions were out in full force; over the course of the next few years, I’d script out my own life in the same morbid fashion I always have. Maybe it was a lesson in not training my eye downward as I’ve spent the majority of my life doing.

I had 3 weeks for the holidays between mixing and submitting Perverts and jumping back into the maw of taming an unfinished Willoughby Tucker. I spent the first three months of 2025 on probation, unable to go much of anywhere, awake only when the sun was down. I’d never mixed a record of that magnitude, which was daunting with deadlines immovable. I remember 9am on my 27th birthday rolling around after being awake for hours whittling away at mixes, announcing the album and entire tour before going back to mix an album that still wasn’t done. I’ve never cried so much finishing a record, and that was before it was even out. Combining your Saturn return, your first shot at true love, and the longest tour of your life is something I would never recommend to anyone. It was the death of both ego and everything around it. I couldn’t be more grateful. Never in my life have I been so turned inside out, so uprooted and unraveled. Looking back, I needed it more than anything.

Thank you to everyone who listened. Ethel Cain and Willoughby Tucker will always be my children, my burnt offerings, what I leave in the storm. Sometimes I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I also fear it’s the only way. Ethel Cain, Willoughby Tucker, I really will always love you. I hope you can forgive me.

[munsonsdangerousgirl]

₊ ° ⊹ ♡ 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

☆ “𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛, 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒.”

📞·˚ ༘ ┊͙ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: one morning when you and eddie wake up after a sleepover at his trailer, you decide to show him a couple of moves you learned while taking jiu-jitsu classes.

𝓞𝓡 , you and eddie’s friendship turns into something more when you accidentally grind on him while playfighting . . .

⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: smut, inspired by this post (thought the 7th link was eddie coded) , never proofread , best friends to…? , i always have to write eddie as a yearner , grinding/dryhumping , pervy! eddie & pervy! reader , pretty filthy if i do say so myself , lots and lots of teasing and dirty talk , praise mixed with degradation , a lot of position switches too since they’re wrestling , reader licking eddie through his boxers , oral (m receiving) , spanking , fingering , p in v , some orgasm denial ig , creampie (be safe horndogs.) , pining eddie , angsty ending

eddie woke up to the sunlight spilling through the window, a slow gold that slid across the floorboards and crept up the rumpled sheets. he yawned softly, shifting to find a more comfortable angle, and the movement stirred you from sleep—a low, sleepy hum escaping your throat before you even knew you'd made it.

his eyes fluttered open at the sound. the haze of sleep cleared just enough for him to register that you were here, in his bed, your face half-buried in his pillow. something in his chest pulled taut.

“mm. morning," he murmured, his voice rough and low.

"good morning," you mumbled back, not opening your eyes. you nuzzled deeper into the pillow, your breath slow and even.

he watched you for a long moment—longer than he meant to. his gaze traced the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fanned against your skin, the soft rise and fall of your breathing. the morning light caught the edges of your face, highlighting every small feature he already thought was beautiful, and he felt something warm bloom low in his chest.

he caught himself and cleared his throat.

“so," he said, quiet, "we didn't finish the movie."

you nodded, eyes still closed. "mhm. i knocked out on the couch."

you said it with a hint of sheepishness that made him chuckle. "i know. i tried to be quiet when i snuck away."

a lazy grin spread across his face even though you didn’t see it, boyish and unguarded in the soft light.

"wow. so careless of you," you teased, your voice still thick with sleep. "not even bothering to carry me over to your bed like a gentleman."

he scoffed, but the grin didn't fade—it softened, turned almost tender, even though you couldn't see it. "why?" he asked, voice dropping to something quieter. "why should i have to be a gentleman? it’s my room."

"cause i’m a girl, dumbass. it’s like an unspoken rule."

a sleepy smile tugged at your lips, and the sight of it made his heart stutter. he covered it with a laugh.

"oh, right. 'cause you're too dainty and delicate to sleep on the worn-out couch in my living room, huh?"

his hand found your hair, fingers threading through the mess of it, ruffling gently. you finally opened your eyes, swatting at his hand with a giggle.

“careful. i know jiu-jitsu, y’know.”

eddie’s eyes went wide, a slow grin spreading across his face as the memory surfaced. “oh, shit. yeah—you’ve been taking classes, right? you told me you’d show me some moves.”

you blinked, the haze of sleep parting just enough for confusion to settle in. “oh my god, really? i said that?”

“yeah.” he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with that lopsided smirk that always made your stomach flip. “you said you’d show me your bjj.”

you stared at him. “my what?”

“your bjj,” he repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “your brazilian jiu-jitsu.”

a beat of silence, and then you relaxed, a laugh bubbling out of you. “oh. guess i did.” you stretched your arms above your head, the movement pulling your spaghetti strap tank top up just slightly. “i bet i could show you some moves right now.”

eddie’s eyebrows shot up, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “right now? in the morning? before breakfast?”

“what’s the matter, eds?” you tilted your head, voice dropping into something teasing and sweet. “too chicken?”

he scoffed, pushing himself upright, the challenge landing exactly where you aimed it. “i’m not chicken. i’m just saying—you’re in my bed, in my room, and you wanna grapple with me first thing in the morning?”

“scared i’ll pin you?” you shot back, sitting up slowly, the sheet pooling around your waist.

his grin turned sharp, playful, his gaze dragging over you in a way that was half challenge, half something else entirely. “sweetheart, i’d like to see you try.”

“so it’s an invitation?”

“it’s a warning.” he leaned in, close enough that you could smell the sleep on his skin, his voice dropping to a murmur. “i don’t go easy on people who threaten me in my own bed.”

your heart stuttered, but you held his gaze, a smile curving your lips. “good. i’d be offended if you did.”

the second the words left your mouth, eddie lunged.

you let out a surprised yelp as he crashed into you, the both of you tumbling back onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and laughter. the sheets twisted beneath you, and his weight pressed you into the pillows for half a second before you squirmed, hooked a leg around his, and rolled.

he hit the mattress with a grunt, the breath punched out of him. "shit—"

"too slow, eds," you breathed, already scrambling to pin his wrist to the bed.

but eddie was wiry and quick. he twisted beneath you, his hip bucking up hard enough to throw off your balance, and suddenly you were the one on your back again, his knee wedged between your thighs, his hands catching your wrists and pressing them into the pillow on either side of your head.

"who’s slow now, huh?" his voice was rough, his chest heaving against yours. a strand of his hair fell loose, brushing your cheek.

you bucked, trying to throw him off, but he had you pinned good. your breath came fast, a laugh hitching in your throat. "beginner’s luck."

"beginner's—" he laughed, breathless and disbelieving. "nah, this is just talent."

"talent my ass." you twisted your hips, and he made a small, strangled sound as your thigh pressed up between his legs. his grip on your wrists loosened just enough. you shoved, and he went rolling sideways, the two of you grappling across the rumpled sheets in a mess of grunts and half-stifled curses.

"fuck—" he grabbed for your waist, but you were already moving, swinging a leg over his torso and dropping your weight onto his chest. the air left him in a sharp oof.

"gotcha."

he bucked beneath you, strong and stubborn, his hands finding your hips, fingers digging in as he tried to unseat you. "not yet, you don't."

"eddie." you pressed down harder, your thighs squeezing his ribs. his back arched, muscles straining, and you could feel every shift of him beneath you, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. "just tap out."

"no."

you grinned, shifting your weight, and his breath stuttered as you bore down, one hand pinning his wrist to the mattress, the other pressing against his chest. "come on, say it."

“n-no, it's not happening."

he twisted again, and you almost lost your grip, your core tightening with the effort of holding him down. your hair fell forward, curtaining both your faces, and for a moment, all you could see were his eyes, dark and glittering and fixed on yours.

"tap," you said, softer now, but no less certain.

he held your gaze. his chest heaved. and then, slowly, his fingers curled against the mattress, and he tapped twice against the sheet.

a triumphant laugh broke out of you. "yes! yes." you flopped forward, your forehead dropping to his sternum, your body still shaking with the exertion. "i told you. i told you."

"okay, okay." his voice was strained, breathless, but there was a smile in it. his chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, his heart hammering hard and fast. "that was... that was pretty good."

"pretty good?" you lifted your head, propping your chin on his chest. "i destroyed you."

"you got lucky."

"i got good."

he snorted, but his hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. his touch lingered, just a beat too long. "alright, hotshot. rematch."

you raised an eyebrow. "you sure you can handle another round? i’d hate to embarrass you twice in one morning."

"embarrass me?" he laughed, sitting up beneath you, and you had to scramble to keep your balance as he shifted. "i'm just warming up, sweetheart."

"mhm." you slid off him, settling onto your knees on the mattress, already rolling your shoulders. "so, same rules?"

"same rules." he mirrored you, his hands coming up in a loose guard, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. "but this time, i’m not going easy on you."

"aw, you went easy on me?"

"i went gentle. i could’ve—"

you lunged.

but this time, he was ready. he caught your wrist, pivoted, and for a second, you thought he had you. but you dropped your weight, twisted, and wrapped your legs around his torso in a move that had him grunting in surprise.

"what the—"

you locked your ankles, your thighs squeezing tight around his neck, and suddenly he was trapped, his face pressed against the inside of your thigh, his body bent at an awkward angle as you rolled onto your back, pulling him with you.

"it’s triangle choke," you said, voice strained with effort.

his response was muffled. something between a laugh and a groan.

you tightened your legs. his hand came up, slapping weakly at your thigh. once. twice.

"tap?" you asked, breathless.

he tapped again, harder this time, and you loosened your hold, letting him pull his head free. he collapsed beside you, chest heaving, a hand pressed to his face.

"holy shit."

you grinned, rolling onto your side to face him. "see? i’m pretty good.”

he let out a breathless laugh, still catching his wind. "you didn't tell me you could do that."

"figured i’d keep it as a surprise."

he turned his head, looking at you with those big, dark eyes, his cheeks flushed, his hair a wild mess. "well, it definitely worked. that was... i didn't see that coming."

"most people don't." you propped yourself up on one elbow, feeling warm and pleased and a little smug. "you okay down there?"

"define okay." he shifted, clearing his throat, and you noticed the way his gaze dropped to your thighs for half a second before snapping back up. "i think i need a minute."

"from one round?"

"from that round." he sat up slowly, running a hand through his tangled hair. "you’ve been holding out on me."

"i told you i’d show you some moves."

"yeah, but i thought you meant, like... a wristlock or something. not..." he gestured vaguely at his own neck. "not getting put in a headlock by your legs."

you laughed, bright and genuine. "you liked it."

he swallowed. "i didn't say that."

"well, you didn't not say it."

he opened his mouth. closed it. looked away, a grin tugging stubbornly at the corner of his lips. "alright, fine. maybe i liked it. a little."

"just a little?"

he looked back at you, and there was something unguarded in his expression, something that made your stomach flip. "maybe more than a little."

you held his gaze for a long moment, searching his eyes for something you weren't sure you'd find. that look in his eyes was still there, and it made your chest feel tight, so you looked away first.

there was something tense in the air, thick and unsaid. you cleared your throat.

"well, either way, you haven't pinned me down." you tried for teasing, but your voice came out a little quieter than you'd intended.

eddie scoffed, and you could hear the grin in his voice. "that’s 'cause I wasn't trying. if i did try, i would've pinned you down a long time ago."

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "yeah, right. you told me you weren't gonna go easy."

"i was joking," he clarified, and there was an edge of sincerity now. "if i did, i’d probably hurt you."

you snorted, not buying it for a second. "sure, eddie."

"don’t 'sure, eddie' me."

"then don't be so full of shit."

“oh, shut up.” he laughed.

“make me.”

so he did.

you two tumbled back onto the mattress, arms tangling, breath coming fast. there just the sound of your ragged breathing, the rustle of sheets, soft curses slipping out as you fought for leverage. his knee dug into the mattress beside your hip. your hand slipped against his forearm, both of you slightly slick with sweat.

then he had you.

he flipped you onto your stomach and pressed his weight down, chest against your back, the side of your face squished into the pillow. his breath was hot against your ear, ragged, triumphant.

"not so tough now, huh?" he was panting. "told you i’d pin you down."

you squirmed, thrashing beneath him, trying to find an angle, a gap, anything. but the movement dragged your ass back against him through his jeans, and he felt that unmistakable pressure.

his breath hitched. "hey—stop."

"i’m trying to get out," you shot back, still writhing.

"then—fuck—try a different way."

you didn't listen. you kept moving, kept twisting, until you heard it—a soft, low groan he couldn't quite swallow.

you froze.

then it clicked.

you went still for a second, letting the realization settle warm in your chest. and then you didn't stop. you moved again, slower this time, more deliberate—rolling your hips back against him with intention.

"jesus," eddie breathed, his voice cracking. his forehead dropped against the back of your shoulder. "you’re gonna kill me."

you didn't let up. you kept moving, slow and lazy, dragging your hips back against him like you were still searching for an escape. your voice came out sweet, breathless, edged with false concern.

"what’s wrong?" you murmured against the pillow. "getting tired, eds?"

he was quiet for a moment, just breathing—shallow, uneven, his chest heaving against your back.

"n-no," he stammered, and you felt his fingers twitch where they gripped your wrist. "i’m not tired. i can—" a sharp inhale as you rolled your hips again. "i can do this all day."

you hummed, a soft, pleased sound. "mm. if you say so."

you shifted beneath him, pretending to search for leverage, but you angled your hips deliberately this time—grinding back against him in a slow, torturous arc. his pelvis met yours, and you felt him through the denim, hot and hard and straining.

his breath stuttered.

"fuck—" it was barely a whisper, punched out of him before he could stop it.

you kept going. kept squirming. kept rolling your hips like you had no idea what you were doing, like this was just part of the game. and he let you. he didn't pull away. didn’t tighten his hold to stop you. he just stayed there, taking it, his breathing growing rougher by the second.

another soft groan escaped him, low and involuntary, vibrating against your spine.

"having fun up there?" you asked, your voice syrupy sweet.

he didn't answer. his jaw was clenched so tight you could almost hear his teeth grinding.

you moved again—slower this time, dragging your hips back in a languid, deliberate roll, letting him feel every inch of the friction. his breath caught. his whole body went rigid.

"okay." his voice was strained, hoarse. "okay, what the fuck kind of strategy is this?"

you blinked, all innocence. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"bullshit." but there was no heat in it. his voice had gone soft, almost wondering. "you know exactly what you're doing."

you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of his expression from the corner of your eye. his face was close—so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. his brow was furrowed, his lips slightly parted. he looked wrecked.

your stomach flipped.

"i’m just trying to get out," you said, but even you didn't believe it anymore.

eddie’s jaw clenched. he stared down at you, and for a long, heavy moment, he didn't move. didn’t speak.

his mind was racing.

the two of you had always been touching, teasing, pushing boundaries until they blurred. he’d bite your shoulder just to hear you yelp, and you'd retaliate by stealing his shirts and refusing to give them back. sometimes he'd lick your face when you were being annoying, and you'd shove him into walls, laughing. it was easy. it was fun.

but this?

this was different.

he’d been in love with you for so long he couldn't remember when it started. it had crept up on him slow, like sunrise—imperceptible until suddenly everything was golden and warm and he couldn't look away. he’d watched you laugh, watched you get frustrated, watched you fall asleep on his couch with your mouth hanging open. he’d memorized the sound of your footsteps, the way you said his name, the way your hand felt small in his when you weren't paying attention.

and now you were beneath him, grinding against him like you were trying to undo him, and you didn't even know. you were just playing. just trying to win some stupid game.

but for him, this was everything he'd never let himself have.

he swallowed hard.

"you think i give a shit?" his voice came out low, rough, but underneath it—soft. vulnerable in a way he rarely let himself sound. "i don't care if you're trying to get me to tap." his breath hitched as you shifted again. "it’s not—fuck—it's not gonna work."

he held himself still above you, every muscle coiled tight, his forehead nearly pressed to the back of your head.

"i can do this all day," he repeated, but the words came out broken, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

you should have stopped. you knew you should have stopped. the game had changed, shifted into something heavier, something that made your skin prickle with awareness. but his voice—that soft, rough edge to it—sent a thrill through you that you couldn't name.

so you didn't stop.

you rolled your hips again, slow and deep, and you heard him choke on a breath above you.

"eds," you whispered, and there was no teasing in it now—just curiosity, just heat. "you sure you're okay?"

he let out a breathless laugh, shaky and raw.

"no," he said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "i’m really, really not."

the sound of his voice—that broken, breathless confession—settled somewhere deep in your chest, warm and electric. it made you bold. made you reckless.

you moved again.

harder this time. slower, deeper, rolling your hips back against him with deliberate pressure, no longer pretending to search for escape. your body pressed flush against his, the friction sending a shock of heat through your veins. you felt him twitch against you, felt the sharp intake of breath that followed, and something dark and hungry unfurled in your stomach.

a low groan rumbled from his chest. it was guttural, involuntary, the kind of sound that seemed to surprise even him. his forehead dropped to the back of your head, his breath hot and uneven against your hair.

"oh, fuck," he breathed, the words barely audible, more air than sound.

you didn't stop.

you rolled your hips again, slower this time, letting the movement drag out until you could feel every inch of the contact. the denim of his jeans was rough against the thin fabric of your shorts, and the friction was maddening—not enough, never enough, but enough to make your pulse hammer in your throat.

his hands were still on your wrists, but his grip had gone slack. he wasn't holding you anymore. he was just... there. braces above you, trembling, his whole body taut as a drawn bowstring.

another roll of your hips. slower. harder.

his breath stuttered. a soft, broken sound escaped his lips—half groan, half whimper—and it sent a jolt straight through you. you felt it in your chest, in your stomach, in the space between your thighs. your skin flushed hot, your own breathing growing shallow.

you hadn't expected this. hadn’t expected him to sound like that. hadn’t expected the way it would make you feel—powerful, yeah, but also desperate. hungry in a way you didn't have words for.

you arched your back slightly, pressing your hips more firmly against him, and the sound he made in response was almost too much. a strained, shuddering exhale that turned into a low, guttural moan. his hips twitched involuntarily, pressing back against you, and you felt the hard length of him through the layers of fabric.

he was losing control.

you could feel it in the way his breathing had gone ragged, in the way his body shuddered against yours, in the way his fingers curled weakly around your wrists like he was holding on to the last shred of his composure.

you moved again—a slow, grinding circle of your hips that made his breath catch and then release in a shaky, desperate groan.

"jesus christ," he whispered, the word cracking at the edges. his voice was wrecked. hoarse. barely recognizable.

your body responded before your mind could catch up. a soft, breathy sound escaped your lips, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. you were getting wet. you could feel it—a slick, growing warmth between your thighs that made the friction of your movements even more maddening.

you wanted more.

you shifted your hips, angling yourself differently, and when you rolled back against him this time, the pressure was perfect. the seam of your shorts pressed against you just right, and a small gasp escaped your lips.

eddie heard it.

his whole body went still for a moment, and then he let out a sound that was almost wounded—a low, desperate groan that vibrated through his chest and into your back. his hips moved against yours, grinding back in a slow, instinctual rhythm, and the feeling of him moving with you sent a shudder through your entire body.

your breath came faster now. your skin was hot, flushed, sensitive to every brush of fabric, every shift of his weight above you. you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your back, could smell the faint, familiar scent of him—cigarette smoke and worn leather and something warmer underneath.

his mouth found the curve of your shoulder.

it was tentative at first, just the brush of his lips against your skin, featherlight. but then you rolled your hips again, and his breath hitched, and his lips parted. his mouth pressed open against your shoulder, hot and wet, and you felt the faint graze of his teeth.

a shiver ran through you.

he did it again—his lips dragging across your skin, his breath hot and uneven. his hips moved with yours now, matching your rhythm, grinding against you in a slow, torturous push and pull that made your head spin.

his breathing was loud in your ear, ragged and uneven, punctuated by soft, helpless sounds that he couldn't seem to suppress. a groan here. a shuddering exhale there. a whispered curse that dissolved into a moan as you pressed back against him harder.

you were both moving now. no pretense. no game. just the slow, grinding rhythm of your bodies, the heat building between you, the sounds of his breathing filling the quiet room.

his hand moved.

it happened slowly—his fingers loosening around your wrist, sliding down your arm, trailing across your skin with a featherlight touch that made you shiver. his palm came to rest on your hip, his fingers curling against the curve of your waist.

he didn't pull you. didn’t guide you. he just... held you. like he needed something to hold onto.

his thumb traced a slow, absent circle against your hip bone, and the tenderness of the gesture, in the midst of all this heat, made your breath catch.

he pressed his forehead to the back of your head again, his breathing ragged, his body shuddering against yours.

"fuck," he breathed again, the word barely audible, wrecked and raw and reverent all at once.

you rolled your hips in response, slow and deep, and felt his whole body tense. his fingers dug into your hip, his breath caught in his throat, and a low, shuddering moan escaped him—longer than the others, more desperate, more broken.

he was completely lost in you.

and the sound of it—the feeling of him falling apart against you—was turning you on more than you had ever expected.

the shift in rhythm was subtle at first—a slight increase in the roll of your hips, a little more pressure as you ground back against him. but eddie felt it immediately. his breath stuttered, a soft, strangled sound catching in his throat.

you did it again. faster this time. harder.

his hips jerked in response, meeting your movements with a desperate, uncoordinated thrust. his hands found your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding on like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

"god," he breathed, the word barely a whisper, lost in the space between your bodies.

you moved faster. harder. the rhythm of your hips grew urgent, driven by something primal and hungry that coiled low in your stomach. the friction was maddening—rough denim and thin cotton, the heat of his body searing through the layers, the sound of his ragged breathing filling the room.

his eyes were shut.

you could feel it in the way his body moved against yours—blind, instinctual, lost. his brow was pressed to the back of your head, his lips parted, his breath hot and uneven against your scalp. his mind was blank. empty of everything except the feeling of you moving against him.

god, she feels so good.

the thought surfaced and drowned in the heat flooding his senses. he couldn't think. couldn’t form words. all he could do was feel—the slow, torturous grind of your hips, the soft sounds you made, the way your body fit against his like it was made for him.

he had imagined this before. late at night, alone in his van, when his mind wandered to places it shouldn't. he had pictured your hands on him, your mouth, your body pressed against his. but he had never let himself believe it could actually happen. you were too good for him. too bright. too far out of his reach.

but you were here. moving against him. making him feel things he didn't have words for.

and he was in love with you.

the thought hit him like a freight train, sharp and undeniable, and it made everything worse. made the ache deeper. made the heat in his blood burn hotter. because it wasn't just physical—it had never been just physical. every roll of your hips, every soft sound you made, every brush of your skin against his—it all meant something more to him.

his breathing grew ragged. shallow. his chest heaved against your back, and a low, desperate groan escaped his lips—louder than before, raw and unguarded.

your hips moved faster, grinding harder, and he felt himself losing the last thread of control.

“fuck," he gasped, the word cracking. "fuck, sweetheart—"

his hips bucked against you, chasing the friction, chasing the heat. his fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise, and he couldn't bring himself to care. all he could think about was you. the way you felt. the way you moved. the way you were unraveling him piece by piece.

i’m gonna—

the thought came too late.

his body tensed. his breath caught. and then it hit him—a wave of heat that crashed through him without warning, pulling a loud, broken moan from his lips. his hips jerked against you once, twice, as he spilled into his jeans, the release sudden and overwhelming and completely beyond his control.

he gasped. panted. his body shuddered through the aftershocks, his forehead pressed hard against the back of your head, his hands trembling against your hips.

for a long moment, neither of you moved.

the only sound was his ragged breathing, loud in the quiet room, slowly evening out as the haze began to clear.

then his lips found your shoulder again.

soft, open-mouthed kisses, warm and trembling, trailing across your skin. he wasn't thinking. he was just... feeling. trying to ground himself. trying to remember how to breathe. his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your neck, slow and reverent, like he was memorizing the taste of your skin.

but then you moved.

in a flash, you twisted beneath him, your body rolling with sudden, fluid grace. he barely had time to register the shift before you were on top of him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands pressing his shoulders down against the mattress.

he stared up at you, wide-eyed, chest still heaving. a beat of silence. then a low, breathless laugh escaped his lips.

"you’re kidding me," he said, his voice still wrecked, still rough around the edges.

you pressed down harder, and he groaned—a soft, defeated sound that melted into another laugh.

"fine. fine." he raised his hands, palms open, and tapped twice against the mattress. "i tap. you win. congratulations, you defeated me, you little shit."

a grin spread across your face, bright and victorious. but there was a glint in your eyes. a question.

"did you just... come in your pants?"

his face flushed red.

he let his head fall back against the pillow, one hand dragging down his face.

"jesus christ," he muttered, his voice muffled behind his palm.

you raised an eyebrow, waiting.

he groaned. long and dramatic and full of self-pity. then he let his hand drop, staring up at the ceiling like he was praying for the floor to swallow him whole.

"yeah," he said, the word clipped and frustrated. "yeah, i did. i fucking came in my pants. you happy now?"

a laugh bubbled out of you—bright and genuine, not mocking, but warm. surprised.

"i didn't even do that much," you said, your voice teasing, but soft.

eddie’s eyes finally met yours. there was something in them—something raw and unguarded, something that made your laughter fade at the edges.

"yeah," he said quietly. "you did."

the words hung in the air between you, heavier than they should have been. he meant more than he was saying. you could feel it in the way his gaze held yours, in the way his chest was still rising and falling too fast, in the way his hands had come to rest on your thighs—not pushing, not pulling. just... holding.

but you laughed it off, shaking your head, rolling your eyes with playful affection.

"guess i’m just that good."

the grin returned to his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. he was still looking at you like you were something he couldn't quite believe was real.

"yeah," he said again, softer this time. "i guess you are."

eddie’s eyes searched yours.

he told himself he was just looking. that he was just waiting for your next move, reading your body language, trying to figure out what you were going to do next. that’s all it was. just strategy.

but it wasn't.

he was looking for something else. some flicker of warmth, some crack in the playful facade that would tell him you felt even a fraction of what he felt. some sign that this meant more to you than just a game. some hint that you saw him—not just eddie the freak, not just eddie the dealer, not just eddie the guy who was convenient and willing and pressed against you in the morning.

but there was nothing.

your eyes were bright with mischief, sparkling with the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of winning. there was heat there, sure—a lazy, satisfied kind of desire that told him you were enjoying this. but it was surface-level. fun. a game you were playing because you could, because he was letting you, because it was easy and exciting and meant nothing the next day.

something in his chest cracked, just a little.

he looked away.

the ceiling was suddenly very interesting. water stains. a crack running from the corner to the light fixture. he focused on that instead of the weight of you on his hips, the warmth of your thighs bracketing his waist, the way his heart was pounding in his throat.

"wasn’t fair though," he said, forcing his voice into something lighter, something that sounded like him. "you grinding your ass up against me like that. pretty sure it's cheating."

you rolled your eyes, and he could feel the movement, could feel the shift of your weight as you adjusted above him. "i still won. plus you weren't really in a rush to stop me."

he snorted. "yeah, well. i was being polite. didn’t wanna hurt your feelings."

"uh huh. very chivalrous of you."

"i am a gentleman."

"you came in your pants."

"gentleman," he repeated, louder, and you laughed.

the sound did something to him. made the crack in his chest spread a little wider. he wanted to bottle it. keep it. listen to it on repeat in the lonely hours of the night when he was alone in his van, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he was doing with his life.

but he didn't say that. he just grinned, letting the banter carry him, letting it be enough.

"rematch," you said, and before he could respond, you were moving.

this time, you were faster. smarter. you caught him off guard, your body twisting with practiced ease, and suddenly your legs were around his head again, your thighs pressing against his ears, and he was trapped.

"jesus christ—"

he struggled, but half-heartedly. his hands came up to grip your thighs, but he wasn't pushing. he was holding. his breath was warm against the inside of your leg, and he could feel the heat of you through your shorts, could smell the faint scent of your skin, could feel the way your body settled against his with comfortable familiarity.

but you didn't stop there.

you shifted. adjusted. your hips lowered, and suddenly you were positioned differently—not just holding him, but using him. your weight settled lower, and he felt the damp spot there, still cooling, still embarrassing.

your mouth found it.

"oh, fuckkk—"

he groaned, loud and broken, his hips bucking up instinctively as your lips pressed against the wet denim. the fabric was rough against your mouth, but beneath it, he was sensitive, aching, still trembling from the aftershocks of his release.

"fuck, this again?" he gasped, his voice muffled between your thighs.

you paused, just barely. your lips ghosted over the damp spot, and he could feel your smile against the denim.

"want me to stop?"

he knew what you were doing. you were giving him an out. a chance to say no, to retreat, to save whatever shred of dignity he had left.

but he didn't want an out.

he wanted you.

“no," he said, the word coming out rough and desperate. "don’t—don't stop."

your hands found the button of his jeans. the zipper. the sound of it lowering was loud in the quiet room, and eddie’s breath caught in his throat. he stared up at the ceiling, at the water stains, at the crack in the corner, and tried to remember how to breathe.

you pulled the denim open. his boxers were visible now—dark blue, damp in the center, clinging to him. he was half-hard again, stirred by the friction, by the heat of your mouth through the fabric, by the sheer overwhelming reality of you.

your tongue touched him through the cotton.

he moaned—a sound he couldn't control, couldn't hold back, couldn't disguise. it was raw and desperate and full of everything he was trying not to feel.

his hands found your thighs again, gripping tight, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

don’t feel this. don’t feel this. don’t feel this.

but he did.

he felt everything.

the wet heat of your mouth through the thin fabric. the slow, deliberate drag of your tongue along his length. the way you explored him like he was something to be savored, something to be learned. the way your breath ghosted over him between licks, cooling the spots where your mouth had been. you were basically cleaning up his release.

his chest rose and fell in uneven rhythms, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. his hands trembled against your thighs, and he couldn't tell if he was trying to push you away or pull you closer.

"f-fuck," he stammered, his voice cracking. "do whatever you want to me. i’m still not gonna t-tap again."

you laughed against him—a soft, warm sound that vibrated through the cotton and made his hips jerk.

"we’ll see about that," you murmured. “you’re pretty easy to manipulate.”

eddie groaned softly as you licked him again. “s-shit, can you just put it in your mouth already?”

you hummed against him. “that’s not something a gentleman would say, eds.”

“i don’t care,” he panted. “just… please. just put my cock in your pretty mouth, please. instead of just… eating the come while you clean me off.”

you paused, a small smile forming at your lips. “you think my mouth’s pretty?”

he swallowed hard, realizing he had to be careful with his words if he was gonna keep this up.

“y-yeah. i think you’re pretty,” he failed immediately. “whatever. come on, just suck my—“

and then your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers.

he lifted his hips without thinking, helping you, letting you. the fabric slid down, and then he was exposed—hard and aching and damp with his own want. the air was cool against his skin, but your mouth was warm, and when you kissed him there—soft, almost tender—he thought he might die.

"fuck," he breathed, the word barely a whisper.

you kissed him again. slower this time. your lips pressed against the head of his cock, gentle and deliberate, like you had all the time in the world. like you wanted to memorize the shape of him, the taste of him, the way he gasped and trembled beneath you.

and then your tongue.

a slow, flat stroke from base to tip, and his whole body arched. a desperate, broken sound tore from his throat, and his fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to leave marks.

you gave him more.

your mouth closed around him, warm and wet and perfect, and he felt his mind go blank. there was nothing but you—the feel of your lips, the stroke of your tongue, the way your throat relaxed to take him deeper. his hands slid from your thighs to your hair, fingers threading through the strands, not pulling, just... holding.

he was panting. moaning. muttering your name like a prayer, like a plea, like a confession.

"god, you—" his voice broke. "you feel so good.”

suddenly an idea popped into eddie’s head.

he arched his back deliberately, letting out a guttural moan that echoed through the small bedroom.

“fuuuuck, sweetheart. just like that. you’re gonna make me come again. right in that pretty mouth of yours—god..." his words were calculated, designed to throw you off your game while his hands gripped your thighs tighter.

you continued your work, taking him deeper as your tongue swirled around the sensitive head. your own arousal was building from the power dynamic, from having him completely at your mercy beneath you. but you weren't expecting what happened next.

the moment your mouth finally released him with a soft pop, replacing it with your hand stroking his length firmly, eddie moved. fast and decisive. in one fluid motion, he flipped both of you over, breaking free from your triangle hold with surprising strength fueled by adrenaline and arousal.

before you could process what was happening, you found yourself bent over his knee, your stomach pressed against his thigh, your ass raised high in the air. your hands braced against the mattress, steadying yourself as shock rippled through your body.

"what the fuck, eds—"

"yeah, right," eddie growled, his voice dripping with dark amusement as he positioned himself behind you. one strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you securely in place while his other hand hooked into the waistband of your shorts. "thought you were gonna get me again, huh?" he yanked your shorts down roughly, the fabric sliding past your hips and pooling around your knees along with your panties, leaving your lower half completely exposed to him.

his eyes darkened as he took in the sight before him—the curve of your ass, the glisten of moisture coating your inner thighs, the way your body trembled with anticipation and surprise. "holy shit," he breathed, his hand trailing possessively over the smooth skin of your rear. "look at you. all that just from teasing me, huh?"

"you’re such a good little slut for me, aren't you?" his thumb circled your entrance teasingly, feeling how wet you actually were. a low groan escaped him at the discovery. "this is what you wanted, wasn't it? to get me so worked up i couldn't think straight?"

the sharp crack of his palm against your bare flesh sent a jolt of sensation racing up your spine. you gasped, your fingers curling tightly into the rumpled sheets beneath you as the sting bloomed across your skin. a full-bodied shudder ran through you, and you whimpered—a sound that was equal parts pain and desperate need.

"eddie..."

hearing his name on your lips did something to him. something beyond the physical. the sight of you bent over his knee, your back arching involuntarily, your thighs trembling, your skin flushed pink wherever he'd touched—it hit him somewhere deep. like a punch directly to his heart.

"yeah? you like that, sweet girl?" his voice was rough and low, vibrating with barely restrained desire. his thumb traced slow circles over the reddened spot on your ass, soothing and tormenting in equal measure. "if you tap, i’ll play with you. i’ll make you feel reeealll good, i promise."

he gave you a moment to consider it. his hand rested warm and heavy on your hip, his fingers digging in just enough to remind you exactly who was in control now.

but you didn't tap.

of course you didn't. because you were competitive. because tapping meant admitting defeat. and you'd rather burn than give him the satisfaction.

eddie noticed. a slow, knowing grin spread across his face as he read your silence loud and clear.

"that’s what i thought," he murmured, his voice dropping into something darker. possessive. "my stubborn girl."

his hand lifted, hovering in the air for one agonizing second—letting you anticipate, letting the anticipation build to almost unbearable levels—before his palm came down again with a firm, resounding smack against your other cheek.

"ah—!" the moan tore from your throat before you could stop it. your hips bucked involuntarily, pushing back against him in a way that was entirely contradictory to your attempt at maintaining composure. your walls clenched around nothing, your body betraying every ounce of defiance your mind was trying to cling to.

"there we go," eddie praised, his voice thick with satisfaction. his free hand slid between your legs, his fingers parting your slick folds with ease.

the sensation of his finger dipping into your heat was overwhelming, a sudden intrusion that made your breath hitch violently. he didn't rush; instead, he used his fingertip to circle your entrance, dragging through the thick, honeyed slickness he’d already observed. the sound of his movements—the wet, rhythmic sliding of skin against skin—was deafening in the quiet of the trailer.

"god, look at you," eddie groaned, his voice cracking with a primal sort of hunger. “you're fucking drowning in it, sweetheart. absolutely soaked. every time i touch you, you just... you melt."

he pushed a single finger inside, testing your tightness, and you let out a broken, high-pitched whimper that sounded nothing like your usual self. you tried to keep your jaw clenched, tried to maintain some semblance of that stubborn pride, but your body was a traitor. your hips were practically begging for him to fill the void, tilting back toward him instinctively.

"all you gotta do is tap, sweetheart," he whispered, “just one little tap and i’ll play with you. i’ll give you exactly what you’re aching for. you think i don’t know how much you want this? i’ve known you for so long, i’ve picked up a thing or two about what makes you lose your mind."

he pulled his finger out almost entirely, only to drive it back in deeper, pushing past the initial resistance until he hit that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your head.

"mmmgh—eddie, please—"

“please what?" he mocked softly, though his breathing was coming in ragged, heavy bursts now. he was losing his own battle with control, his cock twitching rhythmically. "tell me what you want. tell me you can't take it anymore. tell me you're ready to tap."

despite the mounting tension, you still didn't tap. you clung to the sheets, your knuckles white, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps as you fought the urge to give in.

eddie let out a low, dark chuckle. "still no, huh? you’re really going to make me edge you? it’s just one little tap, baby."

the nickname hit you like a physical wave. the word 'baby'—spoken in that specific, low register—sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, causing your internal muscles to clench tightly around his fingers. eddie groaned softly as he felt the sudden, desperate grip of your walls. it turned him on viciously, but it also made his heart clench with an intensity that terrified him. the raw intimacy of it, the way you reacted to him, made him want to make you feel good.

"yeah, you like it when i call you that, baby? fuck, you look so pretty like this. come here."

he shifted his weight, leaning over you more aggressively. he didn't let go of your heat, but he reached around, pressing his thumb firmly against your lips. you didn't hesitate; you leaned into it, sucking on his thumb with a desperate hunger, your whimpers muffled and wet against his skin.

"yeah, suck on that, sweet girl. drool on it if you want to," he groaned, his voice sounding strained, almost pained. "just take it. take everything i’ve got."

his fingers inside you shifted gears, moving from a slow tease to a rough, demanding pace. he was driving into you now, hitting that precise spot over and over again, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of a cliff. he could feel your body shaking, your breath hitching in a way that told him you were seconds away from shattering.

eddie pulled his thumb from your mouth. before you could even gasp for air, he slid his hand down, pressing that same thumb directly onto your swollen, hypersensitive clit. he began to rub in a fast, relentless rhythm, perfectly synchronized with the rough pace of his fingers inside you.

the dual stimulation was too much. your head snapped back, a loud, broken cry escaping your throat as the world dissolved into white noise and pure, blinding pleasure.

as waves of pleasure crashed over you, eddie kept up the relentless pressure. his fingers curled inside you, grinding against that perfect spot while his thumb circled your clit in tight, deliberate motions that had you seeing stars.

“come on, baby, you're so close, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice a mix of dark amusement and genuine wonder. he leaned down, pressing his forehead against your shoulder blade, breathing heavily. "so fucking close to coming, huh? your wet, sloppy pussy's just aching to come, yeah? not until you tap though."

he punctuated his words with another sharp slap to your ass. the sting shot through the pleasure, intensifying it to an almost painful degree. you cried out, your whole body convulsing as a second orgasm threatened to tear you apart.

"c’mon, tap. i tapped for you earlier, baby," he murmured, his voice shifting into something sweeter, almost tender despite the cruel teasing. his thumb slowed its rhythm, becoming gentler as he coaxed you. "don’t you want to come? don’t you want to come for me?"

he knew you were fighting it. could feel the tension in your muscles as you battled against your own body's demands. it was infuriating and beautiful all at once. his heart swelled with something far deeper than simple lust.

"just one tap, sweetheart. give in. let me win this round," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

“please... eddie... please, i can't..." you managed to choke out, your voice cracking. you tried to pull away, to find some relief, but his hand on your hip was an anchor, keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted you. "let me... just let me come, please!"

eddie’s grip tightened. he didn't relent; if anything, he increased the pressure, his fingers curling deeper, driving into you with a newfound, predatory urgency.

"no, baby, not yet," he purred, the teasing sweetness still there mixed with raw, commanding hunger. "don’t fucking come until i tell you to. you gotta tap."

"you’re... you're such a dick!" you sobbed out, a mixture of a laugh and a cry. you hated how much you loved this. you hated that even through the haze of ecstasy, your pride was still standing, stubborn and ridiculous. "fuck, i hate you, eddie!"

"yeah? you hate me?" his thumb worked your clit with a frantic, punishing speed that made your hips buck uncontrollably. "is that right? no, you don't hate me, sweetheart. you love—“ he paused. “…this. you love being told what to do by me, don’t you?”

he leaned down, his teeth grazing the nape of your neck, leaving a mark that made you whimper.

"yeah? you’d rather i just edge you like that?" he taunted, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register that sent a fresh chill of arousal down your spine. "just drill that fucking pussy with my fingers? is that what you want? guess i should just fuck you then, huh? i’ll flip you over, pin you down, and pound you until you can't even remember your own name, let alone how to be stubborn."

the mental image was too much. your breath hitched, your lungs feeling too small for the air you were trying to pull in.

eddie’s gaze was unwavering; he watched every tremor of your muscles, every frantic roll of your eyes, looking for any sign of surrender. but even as his lust burned white-hot, a deep, aching pang of longing throbbed in his chest. he didn't just want to conquer your body. he wanted to pull you into his arms and kiss you until neither of you could breathe, to tell you everything he had been hiding behind jokes and hair-ruffling for years.

“yeah," he breathed, his voice a jagged edge of desire. "i’m gonna pump that pussy full of come. is that what you want, baby? to feel me inside you, filling you up?"

you were a broken, moaning mess. your protests had dissolved into incoherent pleas, your pride finally buckling under the sheer weight of the sensation. you were hovering on the precipice, your entire being vibrating with the need to shatter, but eddie was a master of torment. every time you reached for the peak, he shifted his rhythm, pulling back just enough to leave you gasping and empty.

suddenly, the friction stopped. the sudden absence of his fingers felt like a physical wound.

before you could even find your breath to protest, eddie moved. with a surge of strength that caught you off guard, he gripped your hips and flipped you over. you landed hard against the mattress, your legs falling open instinctively, your chest heaving as you stared up at him through a veil of damp hair.

he didn't care about the game anymore. the competition, the tapping, the teasing—it had all been burned away by a sudden, primal necessity. he needed to be in you.

eddie hovered over you, his eyes dark and hooded, looking like a man possessed. he guided himself to your entrance, the tip of his cock brushing against your slick, swollen folds. he paused for a heartbeat, his muscles trembling with the effort of restraint.

then, with one heavy, decisive thrust, he drove himself home.

"oh god—oh god, fuck," he groaned, the sound tearing from his lungs as he buried himself deep within you. the sensation of your tight, pulsing heat swallowing him whole was almost more than he could bear.

your hand immediately found his arm, fingers digging into the taut muscle of his bicep as you tilted your head back against the pillow. the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sent sparks cascading behind your eyelids. a raw, guttural moan escaped your lips, his name tumbling from them without thought.

"oh fuck, eddie, you feel so good..."

the praise hit him like a freight train. his cock twitched inside you, swelling thicker as a shudder rolled through his entire body. the way you looked beneath him—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed crimson, your nails leaving crescent marks in his skin—it was beautiful. devastating. everything he'd ever wanted and more.

it wasn't just the sex; it was the fact that it was you. hearing you worship him, feeling your hands clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth, sent a wave of possessive, overwhelming love through him.

"yeah?" he panted, his hips finding a slow, rolling rhythm as he settled into the depth of you. "that feel good for you, baby? take that cock, sweet girl, take it all in." his voice was reverent, almost worshipful, despite the crude words. one hand slid under your lower back, arching you slightly, changing the angle just enough to make you gasp.

he began to move. slowly at first, savoring the feel of you wrapped around him like a glove, then gradually building momentum. each thrust was deliberate, deep, pushing to the hilt before withdrawing almost all the way, only to slam back inside with a force that made the bed creak in protest. the wet, obscene sounds of their bodies meeting filled the trailer alongside your cries.

"hold onto me," he grunted, his pace quickening. "don’t let go, okay? not... not ever."

your legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, and eddie’s control fractured further. he buried his face against your neck, breathing you in while kissing at the skin—taking in the scent of sweat mixed with your perfume—as his hips pistoned into you with increasing desperation.

"i’m not gonna last," he admitted as he pulled back, his voice cracking. "not without you. come with me, baby, please. you’ve been so good. you can come now."

as your moans grew louder, more desperate, eddie’s gaze flickered downward. for a split second, he looked at your lips—swollen and parted and glistening—and something in his expression shifted. raw vulnerability flickered across his features before he masked it with another thrust.

you noticed.

"what, y-you wanna—fuck—kiss me, eds?"

you couldn't help yourself. even now, even with his cock driving into you and your entire world dissolving into sensation, you had to tease him. had to push him just a little further.

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. he saw the desire, the need reflected in your eyes, and suddenly, the longing that had been building beneath the physical urgency erupted. it was a desperate bid to bridge the gap between the physical act and the soul-deep connection he craved.

he closed the distance in an instant. his mouth crashed onto yours—deep, messy, and passionate. it was hungry, a furious expression of every moment of wanting, every unspoken feeling that had coiled inside him for so long. he kissed you with the ferocity of a man who was pouring every ounce of his love and longing into that kiss, trying to communicate everything he couldn't say aloud.

your initial surprise melted away instantly, replaced by a reciprocal fire.

as you met his mouth with a desperate, frantic hunger, your movements were driven by the sheer, overwhelming sensation of him—the friction, the heat, the primal urge to feel more, to lose yourself in the pleasure he was providing. you were chasing the peak, riding the wave of physical ecstasy that threatened to drown you.

but eddie... eddie was somewhere else entirely. every time his lips pressed against yours, it wasn't just about the sensation; it was almost like a prayer. he was trying to anchor himself to you even as the world blurred around the edges.

he broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged, uneven hitches. his lips migrated from your mouth to your jawline, trailing hot, wet kisses down to the sensitive dip of your neck. his nipped at your skin, his teeth grazing you just enough to make you arch your back, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go.

"come on, baby... come on my cock," he groaned against your skin, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that thrummed through your entire body. he found your clit again, his thumb working with a rhythmic, punishing precision that sent sparks flying behind your eyelids. "i got you, i got you. fuck, you look so pretty... you look so fucking beautiful..."

the praise, delivered with such raw, unadulterated devotion, was the final catalyst. your world fractured. a sharp, high-pitched cry escaped your throat as your muscles convulsed around him, the orgasm crashing over you in violent, delicious waves.

eddie let out a low, guttural groan, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he felt you tremble beneath him. he didn't slow down; if anything, the feeling of you tightening around him drove him closer to the edge. "oh, fuck... atta girl. atta girl, you did so good," he murmured, his voice thick with pride and adoration. he peppered your neck with frantic, soothing kisses, trying to steady you even as his own control began to disintegrate.

his body continued its relentless, insistent rhythm, each thrust a testament to the building storm within him. his words were a low, husky promise, his voice scraping against your skin like a gentle rasp. "oh, i’m gonna come... gonna come inside you, baby, you want it? you want me to come in that wet little cunt of yours?"

your response was a desperate, whimpish nod, your voice barely audible over the thrumming of your pulse. "yeah, eds, i want it. give it to me." the words were a siren's call, beckoning him closer to the edge.

and then, in an instant, he was over it. a low, breathless groan escaped his lips as he came hard inside you, his body locking up in a spasm of release. soft curses and a string of muttered oaths accompanied the violent, shuddering convulsions of his climax.

“f-fuck, oh god, yeah…”

as you both panted, struggling to catch your breath, his gaze met yours in a fleeting, shining moment. his eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide with the aftermath of his orgasm, but beneath the haze of pleasure, a glimmer of something else lingered. something that looked almost like hope.

he kissed your shoulder as he leaned down, his lips tracing a soft, comforting path along the delicate curve of your skin. his hand rose to your hip, resting there lightly as if anchored to your very existence.

then your hand moved up to tangle itself in his damp curls, fingers threading through the long, wavy strands with a gentleness that made his heart ache.

to eddie, that gesture was everything. that simple, innocent touch told him more than any confession ever could. for one fragile, suspended moment, he allowed himself to believe—that maybe, just maybe, you saw him differently. that the connection he felt wasn't just one-sided.

but he knew better.

"come here," he whispered, his voice hoarse and tender. he tilted your chin up with careful fingers, guiding your lips toward his. the second kiss was a revelation compared to the first. softer. slower. still carrying the embers of the previous passion, but burning with something deeper—something patient and aching and brave all at once. his lips moved against yours with a reverence that bordered on worship, savoring every millimeter of contact.

you hummed against his mouth, and the sound made his chest tighten painfully.

don’t pull away. don’t pull away. don’t pull away.

he kissed you until neither of you could breathe, and then he kissed you some more.

but as you pulled back, a soft giggle slipped from your lips. eddie smiled softly, brushing your hair away from your face. “what?”

you shook your head, still a little breathless. “nothing. just… didn’t expect us to become fuck buddies, i guess.”

your words landed like a knife between his ribs. fuck buddies. two words that reduced everything he'd just experienced—the emotional nakedness, the quiet desperation in his own kisses—to something casual.

like it was something transactional

he kept his expression carefully neutral, but the muscle in his jaw tightened. he looked away, staring at the wall of his cramped bedroom as if it contained the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. his thumb traced an absent circle against your hip, the motion mechanical now rather than intentional.

"yeah, me neither," he said quietly. too quietly. the words carried far less weight than the silence that surrounded them.

he expected this to happen, but it still pained him to hear how casual you were about it. he felt like an idiot for even letting himself hope.

you laughed lightly, and he forced a small smile, still not meeting your eyes. he could feel the shift between them—a subtle, imperceptible cooling, like a cloud passing over the sun. you probably didn't notice it. or maybe you did and simply didn't care.

he cleared his throat, disentangling himself slowly. the loss of contact was immediate and acute—like a phantom limb, he felt the absence of your warmth against his skin with painful clarity. he sat up on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his disheveled curls, trying to collect himself.

"so," he started, his voice settling back into its usual easy cadence—but something underneath it had shifted. a guard going back up. walls rebuilding brick by brick. "guess we should, uh... probably get breakfast or something."

he stood, stretching his tall frame, deliberately keeping his back turned to you. he needed a moment to compose himself—to push down the ache that was blooming in his chest like a bruise turning purple. he grabbed his boxers from the floor and pulled them on, the mundane act helping to ground him back in reality.

it’s fine. it’s just sex. just because you caught feelings doesn't mean she owes you anything.

he glanced over his shoulder, forcing that signature lazy grin. "unless you wanna stay in bed all day. i’m not complaining either way." the joke fell flat in his own ears, and he hoped you didn't hear it.

you didn't notice the flicker of pain in his eyes or the way his smile didn't quite reach them. as he sat back down, you simply leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of his shoulder. to you, it was a sweet gesture of affection; to eddie, it was a gentle twist of a knife, a reminder of how effortless this was for you while he was drowning in it.

“can’t. i gotta get home soon or my parents will freak,” you said, your voice light and cheerful. you stood up, grabbing your panties and shorts from the floor and tugging them on with a casualness that made his heart sink. eddie sat there, frozen, watching you with a longing so profound it felt physical. he traced the line of your silhouette, memorizing the way you looked in the morning light, knowing that the intimacy he’d just felt was a secret he would have to carry alone.

“fuck, where are my keys?” you asked, glancing around the room.

“probably on the dresser, sweetheart,” he answered softly, his voice lacking its usual theatrical energy.

you found them and let out a sigh of relief, stepping back into his space one last time to plant a quick, friendly kiss on his cheek. “thanks, eds. and thanks for… whatever this was,” you added with a little chuckle, the phrase 'whatever this was' echoing in his mind as a definitive label for their new arrangement. “i’ll see you later, yeah?”

you were already halfway to the door, your energy buzzing and untroubled. eddie just sat there, his shoulders slumping slightly as the silence of the room rushed back in to fill the void you left behind. he nodded, his gaze softening into something mournful.

“yeah,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “see ya.”

he waited until the sound of your footsteps faded and the door clicked shut before he let out a long, shaky breath. he sank back onto the bed, burying his face in his hands, the ghost of your scent still clinging to his skin and the crushing weight of an unrequited love settling heavily in his chest…

[tankhall]

[tankhall]

my july of rest and relaxation

[beasbrain]

Outlaw

description: when eddie munson and the infamous blackwater outfit ride into town and rob your family farm blind, you're determined to settle the score. eddie, however, loves a challenge and will settle for nothing less than winning your angry ass over.

pairing: bandit!eddie x fem!reader

tags: outlaw!eddie x fem!reader, farmers daughter!reader, western au, small frontier town, enemies to lovers asf, slow burn, flirting but make it murder attempts, 1880's domestic fluff, readers a badass, they kiss eventually i promise

TW: mentions of deceased parental figure, robbery, old-timey western dialogue

WC: 5.7k

A/N: helloooooo everyone! this was requested by @goofy-cat11 i hope you enjoy<33 request-palooza is among us, so i will be mainly prioritizing requests for the time being. HOWEVER at the request of my beloved @spacejjunk the final part of as above, so below will begin to be drafted and posted within the week. GET EXCITED! or nervous, idk. reblogs are always appreciated my lovelies <33 enjoy!!! xoxxo

Night had settled over the valley hours ago. The kind of darkness that swallowed the prairie whole, broken only by scattered lanterns glowing in farmhouse windows.

Then, suddenly, the church bell rang three times. Not for Sunday service or for a wedding, but for them.

Immediately, the town went into lockdown mode. Lanterns were snuffed out one by one, doors bolted, and curtains drawn. Dogs that had been barking suddenly went silent, dragged inside by hurried owners.

Somewhere down the road, another bell answered the first, then another, until the whole valley echoed with warning.

Your mother didn't waste a second.

"Inside. Now."

She had already begun blowing out the oil lamps before either you or your little brother could move. The warm glow that had filled the farmhouse disappeared one room at a time until only moonlight filtered through the windows.

"Mama..." your little brother whispered, clutching the hem of her dress.

"It's alright," she lied, pulling him close. "Just stay quiet."

You had heard stories about the Blackwater Outfit bandits for as long as you could remember. Every ranching family within a hundred miles had. They rode wherever they pleased, took what they wanted, and were gone before the sheriff could gather enough men to trail them.

Some claimed they only stole from wealthy cattle barons. Others swore they'd rob anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. Whatever the truth was, no one wanted to find out firsthand.

The sound of hoofbeats grew louder with each passing second until they were just beyond the front fence. Against your better judgment, you crept toward the front window and peeled back the curtain just enough to see the lanterns.

A dozen of them, maybe more, swayed from saddle horns as riders passed through the darkness. Their faces remained hidden beneath the brims of their hats, little more than silhouettes against the pale moonlight. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of horses' hooves and men hollering.

Your hand instinctively reached for your father's Winchester, still resting above the hearth where it had remained since the day he died. Before your fingers could wrap around the stock, your mother caught your wrist.

"Don't be a fool, girl," she whispered, her grip surprisingly firm. "One rifle ain't stoppin' twenty men."

"They're on our land."

"And they'll still be on it after they bury you."

You clenched your jaw, your eyes never leaving the riders outside. Every instinct in your body screamed to do something. To scare them off or to fire a warning shot, just to prove that this farm wasn't defenseless just because your father was gone.

Your mother stepped in front of the window, forcing you to look at her instead.

"Your pa knew when to pick a fight," she said quietly. "That's why he lived as long as he did."

You swallowed hard.

"Tonight ain't one worth dyin' over."

When dawn finally broke, the sun began painting the fields in soft shades of gold that would've been beautiful under any other circumstance. The farmhouse still stood, smoke lazily curling from the chimney, and the rolling pasture stretched just as it always had.

Then you noticed the silence. No rooster announcing the morning. No impatient bleating from the goat pen. No low, familiar call from the pasture beyond the barn. You were out the front door before your mother had even finished tying her apron.

The gate to the pasture hung crooked on one hinge; the latch splintered clean in two. Deep hoofprints had churned the earth into thick mud, leading away from the property in a trail so obvious it was almost insulting.

"No..." you breathed. You broke into a sprint then. The heifer was gone, and so were both milk goats.

You rushed toward the chicken coop, throwing the door open so hard it slammed against the side of the shed. Only a handful of hens scattered at your feet, squawking in protest. The rest had simply vanished.

They hadn't taken everything, though.

The old mare remained in her stall, too lame to fetch much at market. A stubborn old rooster strutted across the yard as if nothing had happened, accompanied by a few scrawny hens they'd apparently deemed not worth the trouble.

They hadn't stolen blindly; they had taken exactly what would hurt the most.

The heifer your family had planned to sell before winter. The goats that supplied milk, butter, and cheese. Nearly every laying hen that brought in enough money each week to keep flour in the pantry and to pay taxes on time.

You crouched beside the broken gate, running your fingers through the fresh hoofprints pressed into the dirt. They hadn't just stolen livestock, no. They had stolen the coming winter.

Behind you, your mother stepped onto the porch, one hand covering her mouth as she looked across the empty pasture. She took in the empty fields, the splintered fence, the open barn doors. Everything your father had spent a lifetime building.

She didn't say a word. Her shoulders sank almost imperceptibly before she turned and walked back inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

Anger carried you into town faster than your horse ever could.

The reins were barely tied outside the sheriff's office before you were shoving through the front door, boots thudding across the worn wooden floor. Sheriff Hopper looked up from the stack of papers spread across his desk, his spectacles perched low on his nose.

He regarded you for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. "I was wonderin' when you'd come."

"You knew?"

"I knew they rode through last night."

"They cleaned us out." Your voice was tight enough to snap. "They took the heifer, both milk goats, and nearly every good hen we had."

His expression hardened, though not with surprise. "I'm sorry to hear it."

"'Sorry' doesn't put food on my family's table."

"No," he admitted. "It doesn't."

Finally, Hopper rose from his chair and wandered toward the window overlooking Main Street. "They knew your father was gone."

"They knew that the farm lost its backbone the day he died. Figured it'd be an easy mark."

Your jaw clenched. "So what're you gonna do?"

"Nothing."

"They're the Blackwater Outfit," he sighed. "Outlaws, sure. But they ain't the sort that burns towns or leaves bodies behind just because they can. They take what they're after and keep ridin'."

"They still robbed us."

"They did."

"And you're just letting them?"

Hopper met your gaze. "I've got five deputies and a town full of families I'd rather not bury."

You looked away, shaking your head. "So that's it."

"Sometimes," he said quietly, "keeping folks alive means knowing which fights not to pick."

"Where are they?"

His eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't advise it."

"Where?"

Another sigh. "They rented the rooms above McCready's Saloon. They'll likely leave come morning."

You didn't say another word. You simply turned on your heel and walked out, the door slamming behind you hard enough to rattle the windows.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, your mind had already been made up. If the sheriff wasn't willing to do anything, you would.

You stood in front of the small mirror hanging beside your bedroom window, smoothing your palms over the nicest dress you owned. It wasn't extravagant by any means, just a deep blue cotton dress reserved for Sunday services and the occasional town social. Your mother watched quietly from the doorway as you pinned your hair back.

"You're headed into town."

You nodded, fastening your father's silver necklace around your neck. "I'll be back."

"Just...come home."

By nightfall, McCready's Saloon was alive with music spilling through the open doors, piano keys carrying into the street alongside bursts of laughter and clinking glasses. Horses lined the hitching posts outside, and every window glowed warmly against the cool prairie evening.

You tied your mare outside and climbed the steps. The moment you stepped through the swinging doors, the familiar scent of whiskey, tobacco smoke, and sawdust washed over you.

"Evenin', miss."

You smiled at the bartender, an older man named Walter who'd known your family since before you were born.

"Evenin', Walt."

He looked you over, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. "Don't think I've seen you in here dressed like that."

You offered a small shrug. "Figured I deserved a drink."

"Hell of a day for one."

"You could say that."

Walter poured your usual without asking, sliding the glass across the polished bar.

"On the house."

You thanked him quietly before letting your eyes drift across the room. It wasn't hard to find them.

They occupied nearly an entire corner of the saloon, boots propped on chairs, cards spread across a table littered with whiskey bottles and coins. Laughter came easily between them, drawing more than a few curious glances from the locals, who were careful not to linger.

And in the middle of it all sat the man you assumed was Eddie Munson. He looked nothing like you'd imagined. You'd expected someone older. Meaner.

Instead, he couldn't have been much more than a few years older than yourself, his dark curls spilling beneath a black hat as he laughed at something one of his men had said. Rings glinted beneath the lantern light as he shuffled a deck of cards with practiced ease, entirely at home in a town that had hidden from him less than twenty-four hours earlier.

As if sensing your stare, his head lifted, his eyes meeting yours from across the room. He smiled slowly, almost confidently. You looked away first, lifting your whiskey to your lips.

Walter caught the exchange immediately. "Oh, don't tell me."

You feigned innocence. "Tell you what?"

"You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're about to do something that'll have me patchin' bullet holes in the wall."

A laugh escaped you despite yourself. "I'll try not to make a mess."

"You never do."

Across the room, Eddie murmured something to the man beside him before pushing back his chair. He crossed the saloon with an easy confidence that suggested he'd never once questioned whether someone wanted him nearby.

By the time he reached the bar, you could feel Walter trying very hard to look busy polishing the same glass he'd been holding for the last minute.

Eddie rested an elbow against the bar. "Evenin'."

You took another sip before finally looking at him. "Evenin'."

"I don't reckon I've seen you around before."

"I reckon you haven't been lookin' in the right places."

That earned a grin. "No?" he asked. "Seems I've been missin' out."

"So I've heard."

He chuckled softly.

"They also tell me you've got a soft spot for pretty women."

"I've got a soft spot for interesting women."

You let the corner of your mouth twitch upward. "And which am I?"

He looked you over; not crudely, but with unmistakable interest. "I haven't decided yet."

"Well," you said, setting your empty glass on the bar, "I suppose you'll have to buy me another drink if you'd like the chance."

Walter's eyes flicked between the two of you.

Eddie smiled, already reaching for his coin satchel. "I was hopin' you'd say that."

Walter disappeared down the bar to tend to another customer, leaving the two of you alone beneath the warm glow of the hanging lamps.

Eddie slid the fresh whiskey toward you. "You always this hard to impress?"

"I haven't seen much worth impressin' me."

"Ouch."

"You asked."

"I did."

He rested one forearm against the bar, turning toward you with an easy grin that would've made most women blush.

You simply took another sip.

"So," he said. "You got a name?"

"You got enough names to remember already."

"I'll make room."

"I doubt it."

He laughed under his breath. "You've got quite the sharp tongue."

"So I've been told."

"I like it."

"I'm sure you do."

"You don't seem surprised."

"I imagine you say that to every pretty girl that walks through that door."

He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. "You wound me."

"I was aiming lower."

That earned a genuine laugh, loud enough for a few of his men to glance over from their poker game.

"There it is," Eddie said, shaking his head. "Knew she was hidin' in there somewhere."

You looked at him flatly. "You always talk this much?"

"Only when I'm bein' ignored."

"I can fix that."

"Oh?"

"Beneath this bar..." you said quietly, keeping your eyes on your glass, "...I've got my father's Colt pointed right at your ribs."

The smile never left his face. If anything, it grew.

"I know."

Your fingers tightened around the grip beneath the counter. "What?"

"I said I know."

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Eddie's expression lost some of its teasing edge. His voice stayed low enough that only you could hear.

"I recognized you the second you walked in."

A knot formed in your stomach.

"I wasn't entirely certain at first."

His eyes drifted briefly to the silver necklace resting against your collarbone.

"Then I saw the necklace."

Your hand instinctively brushed against it.

"Your father's."

You stared.

"Folks in town talked."

"They've got nothin' better to do."

"They said there was a young woman out on the Miller place." His gaze returned to yours. "Long black hair. Pretty enough to turn heads. Mean enough to break 'em."

Despite yourself, your brow furrowed.

"They said after your pa passed, you worked that ranch like it was your own."

"It is my own."

"I stand corrected."

"You also weren't supposed to be home last night."

Your pulse skipped.

"We figured it'd just be your ma and little brother."

Rage simmered beneath your ribs. "You figured wrong."

"I reckon I did."

The music carried on around you. Glasses clinked, and someone cheered from the poker table. It felt as though the rest of the saloon had disappeared.

Finally, Eddie smiled again. "I gotta admit...You've got nerve, walkin' in here alone."

"I figured you'd appreciate it."

"Oh, I do." His grin widened. "I just didn't expect to."

Your thumb eased back the hammer beneath the bar with a soft, unmistakable click. His eyes flicked downward for only a second before meeting yours again.

"You really are pointin' that thing at me."

"I told you I was."

"I know."

"And you're still standin' here."

"Course I am."

"...Why?"

"Because," he said with a crooked smile, "you're the first woman who's ever threatened to shoot me before askin' my name."

You rolled your eyes.

"Not worth the ask."

His laugh came easily, warm enough to earn another curious glance from across the room.

"See?" He leaned in just enough that only you could hear him. "Now I'm even more interested."

The click of the hammer settling back into place was almost louder than when you'd pulled it. Slowly, you removed the revolver from beneath the bar and tucked it back beneath your skirt.

Eddie's eyes followed the movement. "Changed your mind?"

"For now."

You slid off the barstool and set a few coins beside your untouched whiskey. "I've lost my appetite."

"You just got here."

"And I've already had enough."

Without another word, you turned toward the swinging doors.

"You leavin'?"

You didn't answer.

Behind you came the scrape of Eddie's chair, then footsteps. The cool evening air hit your face as you stepped onto the boardwalk, boots carrying you down the quiet street without so much as a glance over your shoulder.

"You always walk this fast?"

You sighed. "You always this annoyin'?"

"I've been called worse."

"I can think of a few."

"I don't doubt it."

You kept walking.

"So," Eddie continued, hands tucked lazily into his pockets, "you got a habit of pointin' guns at every man who buys you a drink?"

"Only the thieves."

He laughed. "I was wonderin' when we'd get back to that."

"You robbed my family."

"I did." There wasn't an ounce of shame in his voice.

"You don't deny it?"

"What good would that do?"

You shook your head. "You're unbelievable."

"I've heard that, too."

"You ever stop talkin'?"

"I was hopin' you'd tell me more about yourself."

"I'd rather tell the undertaker where to bury you."

"You've given that some thought."

"You've earned it."

He smiled to himself. "You know...I usually have to work a little harder to keep a pretty girl thinkin' about me."

You stopped so suddenly that he nearly walked into you. "You listen here. I don't like you."

"I know."

"I don't think you're charming."

"I figured."

"I think you're a thief."

"That one ain't up for debate."

"And if you follow me another step, I'll put that Colt to better use than I did in the saloon."

For just a moment, the grin softened. "I believe you."

You turned and continued walking. He fell into step beside you anyway.

"You ain't much for discouragement, are you?"

"Nope."

"You oughta be."

"I've never been particularly good at takin' advice."

"You'll get yourself killed."

"Maybe."

"You oughta worry about yourself."

"I am."

You shot him a look.

"I'd hate for you to miss your chance to shoot me."

You groaned. "Lord, you're insufferable."

"So I've been told."

"You keep repeatin' yourself, Munson."

"I've noticed you keep listenin'."

Before you could fire back, his hand reached out, fingers closing lightly around your forearm.

"Hang on—"

You caught his wrist, twisted hard, and stepped beneath his arm, using his own momentum against him. In one smooth movement, Eddie stumbled forward until his shoulder met the hitching post with a dull thud, your hand still firmly controlling his wrist behind his back.

He blinked. "...Well."

You released him immediately, taking two steps back. "Don't."

He rolled his shoulder, more surprised than hurt. "I was just tryin' to get your attention."

"You had it."

"I can see that."

For the first time all evening, Eddie wasn't smiling while flirting; he was smiling because he was downright impressed. And a little turned on, but hey, can you blame him?

"You learn that from your old man?"

You said nothing, and that was answer enough. He rubbed his wrist absentmindedly before looking back at you.

"I've gotta say..."

You sighed. "What now?"

"I was interested before." He flashed that crooked grin again. "Now I'm downright fascinated."

You shook your head, muttering something about him being hopeless as you started back toward the road leading home.

This time, Eddie stayed where he was. He watched until you disappeared into the darkness beyond the last lantern on Main Street, grinning like a goddamn idiot.

The sun had barely cleared the horizon by the time you were already out in the barn.

The old Jersey stood patiently in her stall while you worked, her hide mottled with age and her hips more pronounced than they had been even a year ago. She'd given good milk once. Now, you were lucky to coax half a bucket from her.

It wasn't enough to keep a family afloat, not by a landslide, but it was something. You rested your forehead briefly against her side, letting out a slow breath as the steady rhythm of milk hitting the pail echoed through the quiet barn.

That was when you heard it, the sound of another horse.

You frowned. Your mare was already tied outside. The hoofbeats slowed, stopping just beyond the open barn doors.

"You know," a familiar voice called, "I was hopin' for a warmer welcome."

You closed your eyes. "...Of course."

Setting the bucket aside, you stood and turned. Eddie leaned casually against the fence, one hand resting on the reins of a chestnut heifer.

Your chestnut heifer.

Your heart lurched. "What're you doin' here?"

"Mornin' to you, too, Sweetheart."

You ignored him, brushing past to the animal instead. The heifer gave a soft, familiar low as you ran your hands over her neck, checking for injuries. She looked healthy, fed, and untouched.

"You brought her back."

"I did."

You looked up at him, suspicion settling in almost immediately. "Why?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Felt like it."

"I don't believe that for a second."

"Didn't expect you to."

You folded your arms. "So what's the catch?"

"No catch."

"You expect me to thank you?"

"I'd settle for you not threatenin' to shoot me before breakfast."

A reluctant huff escaped your nose before you could stop it, causing Eddie's eyebrows to lift.

"What?" You snapped.

"Nothin'. Just didn't know you had it in you to laugh."

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost hurt. "You're unbearable."

"And yet..." He gestured between the two of you. "Here we are."

You shook your head, leading the heifer toward the pasture.

"You know, most folks would've sold her by now."

You paused. "What?"

"The old Jersey."

His gaze drifted toward the weathered cow still standing patiently inside the barn. "She's got maybe another season left."

Your shoulders stiffened. "My pa raised her from a calf."

"I figured."

"You don't sell family."

You reached over the fence to scratch the heifer between her ears, smiling softly when she nudged your shoulder in return. "You gave me quite the scare, didn't you?"

Your voice had lost every ounce of the sharpness you'd used on Eddie. It was quiet and gentle, almost affectionate.

The heifer bumped your hand again, causing you to laugh under your breath. Only then did you realize someone was watching.

You glanced over, and Eddie hadn't taken his eyes off you.

"What?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nothin'."

"Mhm."

"I was just thinkin'."

"Dangerous pastime."

"It can be."

A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I don't think you're nearly as mean as you pretend to be."

You snorted. "Are you forgetting I had you at point-blank range a day ago?"

"You did."

"I threatened to kill you."

"You sure did."

"I still might."

"I know." He pushed himself off the fence.

"But..." he said, nodding toward the heifer happily grazing beside you, "...I've got a feelin' you've got too soft a heart to actually pull the trigger."

Your smile vanished. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

"Not yet." He tipped the brim of his hat. "But I'm workin' on it."

Before you could think of another retort, he swung easily into the saddle. "I'll see you around."

"I sincerely hope not."

His laugh carried across the pasture as he turned his horse toward the road.

Your mother and little brother had left before sunrise, the wagon loaded with fresh bread, preserves, and the few eggs your remaining hens had managed to produce. They'd make the trip to the next town over, hoping to bring home enough money to stretch another week.

You'd stayed behind to mend fencing. The morning air was cool against your skin as you knelt beside a split fence post, hammer in one hand and a fistful of nails in the other.

You heard the horse long before you looked up. You smiled to yourself despite every intention of not doing so.

"Thought you were leavin'."

Eddie guided his horse through the open gate, a crooked grin already waiting for you.

"I was."

You drove another nail into the fence. "So what happened?"

He swung down from the saddle with practiced ease, dusting off his coat. "I found a reason to stick around a little while longer."

You snorted. "I can't imagine she's very bright."

"She's stubborn as hell."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." He looked directly at you. "I kinda like it."

You shook your head, trying very hard not to smile as you stood and brushed the dirt from your skirt. "So."

"So."

"You just wander onto people's property whenever the mood strikes?"

"Only pretty girls'."

"You've got a death wish."

"I've been told."

"You repeat yourself."

"I've noticed."

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you this time. It was barely audible and so barely there, but Eddie caught it anyway.

"There it is again."

"Oh, hush."

"I knew you could smile."

"I smiled at the thought of hittin' you with this hammer."

"I'll take what I can get."

You rolled your eyes. "You're impossible."

"And yet you haven't asked me to leave."

"I've considered it."

"But?"

You looked around the farm. "You can stay awhile."

His smile softened. "I appreciate that."

The two of you wandered without much destination after that. He followed while you checked fencing, refilled the water troughs, and gathered what little produce the garden had managed to offer.

"So..." Eddie glanced toward the weathered barn. "Your pa built all this?"

You nodded. "Every bit of it."

"It shows."

You looked over at him. "What d'you mean?"

"Nothing's fancy." He reached out, running his hand along one of the fence rails. "But every board's where it's supposed to be."

"He always said if you're gonna build something, build it once."

"He sounds like a smart man."

"He was."

Eventually, you wandered farther out into the pasture, where tall grass swayed with the breeze. Eddie bent down suddenly.

"What're you doin'?"

He plucked a tiny yellow wildflower from the ground. "Hm."

"You stealin' from me again?"

"This one's legal."

"I'm fairly certain it's still my field."

"I'll pay taxes on it."

He stepped in front of you, twirling the flower between his fingers before carefully tucking it behind your ear. "There."

You stared at him. "...What?"

"It matches."

"The flower?"

"No." He smiled. "The attitude."

You shoved his shoulder. "You are so full of it."

He stumbled back dramatically. "I've been assaulted."

"You'll live."

"I don't know..." He clutched his chest. "...That one might've cracked a rib."

"It barely touched you."

"I bruise easily."

"You're an outlaw."

"And?"

"And somehow a little shove's what does you in?"

"It's tragic, I know."

A laugh burst from you before you could stop it, so loud and so very real that Eddie could help but beam at the sound.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Mhm."

"I was startin' to think that sound was a myth."

Heat crept into your cheeks. "You aren't funny."

"I wasn't tryin' to be."

Embarrassed, you reached up to flick the flower from behind your ear. Before you could, Eddie caught your wrist. This time...gently.

"You can leave it."

His thumb brushed absentmindedly against the back of your hand before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He let go almost immediately.

You looked down at your hands.

"So..." you said quietly. "You really oughta get goin'."

"I probably should."

"You know," Eddie said after a moment, "I don't remember the last time I stood still this long."

"That because you're always runnin' from the law?"

"Nah."

He looked out over the pasture. "...Just never had much reason to stop."

You folded your arms across your chest, eyeing him with mock suspicion. "What a charmer you are."

"I've been called worse."

"Oh, I'm sure." You nudged a loose rock with the toe of your boot. "I reckon you find a pretty girl in every town, throw around that smile, tell her she's different, then ride off before sunrise."

Eddie let out a quiet laugh. "So that's what you think of me?"

"I think you're an outlaw."

"Fair."

"And a flirt."

"Guilty."

"You've probably got women waitin' on you from here to Montana."

He scratched at the back of his neck. "...Can't say I do."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really."

"Really."

"I don't believe you."

"I know."

You started walking again, expecting him to fall into step beside you. He, in fact, did.

"I've danced with girls," he admitted after a moment. "Bought a few drinks. Shared a kiss or two."

"A kiss or two," you echoed.

"Maybe three."

You laughed through your nose. "My, aren't you the heartbreaker."

"Nah."

"No?"

He shook his head. "I don't stick around anywhere long enough."

"Hard to court somebody when you're wanted in half the territory."

"You could always stop robbin' people."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Oh, right."

He smiled again. "Exactly."

The two of you walked in silence for another minute before he spoke again.

"I meant what I said yesterday."

"Which part?"

"'Bout you."

You looked at him.

"I don't usually notice people."

You scoffed. "I find that hard to believe."

"I notice if somebody's dangerous."

His eyes met yours.

"Or interesting."

"And I'm both?"

"I think so."

You looked away first.

"You don't know me."

"I know enough."

"Oh?"

"You work harder than anyone else on this farm."

You frowned.

"You talk to the townsfolk more than you let on."

"I listen."

He shrugged.

"They all said the same thing."

"And what's that?"

"That after your pa passed..." His gaze drifted toward the barn. "...most figured your family would sell the place."

Your jaw tightened.

"They also said you'd never let that happen."

A breeze stirred between you, carrying the scent of fresh hay.

"I saw you mendin' that fence this mornin'."

"So?"

"You didn't replace the whole rail."

"There wasn't enough lumber."

"You carved a new notch and made the old one fit."

You blinked.

"You noticed that?"

"'Course I did. I notice a lot of things."

He smiled softly. "I noticed you've got calluses on your hands."

You instinctively tucked them behind your back.

"I noticed you always look over your shoulder before you leave a room."

You swallowed.

"I noticed you still wear your pa's necklace every day."

His voice had lost every trace of teasing.

"And..." he said quietly, "...I noticed you talk to every animal on this farm like they're old friends."

Heat crept into your cheeks. "I do not."

"You called that old Jersey 'sweet girl' this morning."

"I did not."

"You scratched her behind the ear and said, 'C'mon, sweet girl. Give me just a little more.'"

"...You heard that?"

"I was standin' ten feet away."

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. "That's mortifying."

"I thought it was adorable."

"It was not adorable."

"It absolutely was."

You peeked at him through your fingers. "You really don't quit, do you?"

He smiled that crooked, lopsided smile that somehow looked more sincere than cocky this time. "Not when I find somethin' worth stayin' for."

Word had spread quickly after the Hollow Creek Gang rode in late one autumn evening, expecting an easy score. By sunrise, they had turned tail and disappeared over the state line with fewer horses than they'd arrived with.

Nobody in town had missed who chased them out. It became something of an unspoken arrangement after that.

Sheriff Hopper remained the law, collecting taxes, settling disputes, and locking up the occasional drunk who got a little too friendly after payday. But whenever strangers with bad intentions started asking too many questions about the valley, they were met with a much simpler warning.

"Munson's territory."

It wasn't official; Hopper would've rolled his eyes if anyone suggested it was, but it worked.

The Blackwater Outfit still rode where they pleased. They still robbed railroad payrolls, wealthy cattle barons who squeezed every last penny out of smaller ranchers, and the occasional card game if Eddie was feeling particularly lucky.

Funny enough, the valley never seemed to lose another cow. Your farm changed, too. Not all at once, but little by little, day by day.

A bundle of fresh lumber appeared beside the barn one morning. A week later, Eddie showed up, claiming he had "accidentally" bought too much fencing and needed somewhere to put it.

Then, he painted the new chicken coop a bright shade of blue before realizing he'd used house paint instead of barn paint.

Your mother had stopped asking questions sometime around the third delivery. Instead, she'd simply shake her head whenever Eddie rode up the lane.

"That boy's impossible."

"He is," you'd agree. Then you'd walk outside to greet him anyway.

It became just as common to see Eddie's horse tied outside your barn as it was to see your own. Sometimes he'd help mend fences.

Other days, he'd spend hours pretending to help while somehow accomplishing very little besides distracting you from your work.

"You missed a spot."

You glanced over from where you were whitewashing the side of the barn. "I ain't painted there yet."

"Oh." He nodded thoughtfully. "...Carry on."

You laughed. "I've never met a lazier man."

"Lazier?" He pressed a hand against his chest. "I am deeply offended."

"You've been sittin' on that fence for near an hour."

"I've been supervisin'."

"You've been napping."

"They're remarkably similar."

One evening, you found Eddie sitting atop the split-rail fence overlooking the pasture, lazily spinning your father's old pocketknife between his fingers.

"You know that's mine."

"I was holdin' it for you."

"You stole it."

"I borrowed it."

"You've got a funny definition of borrowing."

"I've got a funny definition of lots of things."

You climbed onto the fence beside him, and after a moment of appreciating a day's work, he cleared his throat.

"I been thinkin'."

"That sounds dangerous."

"It usually is."

He smiled to himself before growing uncharacteristically serious. "I don't much care for ridin' anymore."

You turned to look at him. "What?"

"I used to think if I stayed in one place too long..." He shrugged. "...I'd become someone easy to catch."

"And now?"

"Now..."

His eyes wandered across the fields, the barn, the farmhouse. Your mother hanging laundry across the clothesline, your little brother chasing chickens he'd never catch.

Then, they found you. "...Now I think I'd rather be easy to find."

"Eddie..."

"I ain't sayin' I'll stop bein' me."

"I wouldn't ask you to."

"I know." He reached over, absentmindedly taking your hand. "I just..."

He laughed quietly. "...I like comin' home." Home.

You looked down at your joined hands before squeezing his fingers. "I've got somethin' to tell you."

"Oh?"

"You were right."

His grin appeared instantly. "I usually am."

"I did smile in the saloon."

He laughed. "I knew it."

"But..."

You leaned over just enough to kiss him, slow and soft, sweet enough to stop every clever remark he'd been about to make.

When you pulled away, he looked genuinely speechless. "...Well."

"Speechless?"

"You might've finally managed it."

"I'll cherish the moment."

He laughed again before pulling you back for another kiss.

eddie fr.

i hope you all enjoyeddddd<33

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[d4ughtersgrave]

CRYING DURING SEX

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐍, I HATE HIM 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 WEEKS, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 YEARS, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 TOO LONG

PAIRING older brothers best friend! steve x reader

SUMMARY in which you've had a crush on your older brother's best friend since you were kids. now grown up and returning home from college for the summer, bad decisions are made after you're forced into a motel together on a stormy night.

WARNINGS 18+ MDNI smut, she fell first he fell harder, fingering, unprotected p in v, spanking (like one time lmfao), dirty talk, nipple play, sweet stevie, close proximity, adult language, steve is 1-2 years older than reader

WORD COUNT 8.4k

Steve Harrington had been in your house for as long as you can remember, that eventually after years, you stopped thinking of him as just your brother’s annoying friend who just so happened to be cute.

He existed naturally in the way he had become a part of the house itself like the way the kitchen light flickered above the stove your mother always nagged at your father to fix or that one warped floorboard outside your bedroom that always creaked.

Steve was just there. Mostly because of his emotionally negligent home life. He would always be draped over the couch with your brother with his stupid spiderman printed socked feet he'd get embarrassed about, kicked onto the coffee table. He would rummage through the cabinets for snacks he didn't ask for permission to eat or laugh way too loudly at midnight while your mother had yelled from upstairs for the boys to keep it down.

You grew up around the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne that trailed through hallways after basketball games. Around the low rumble of his prized BMW pulling into the driveway to pick up your brother. His stupidly bright smile and the way he effortlessly moved through rooms had always irked you the most.

When you were little, Steve treated you in that affectionately dismissive way most young boys do with their best friend's siblings.

"Move, airhead," "Quit following us," "Tell your brother he still owes me five bucks!"

There had never been cruelty in his voice or irritation enough to hurt you. Sometimes when your brother got irritated with you or ignored you, Steve didn’t and instead gave you a sense of understanding.

At ten years old, you were sitting cross legged in the living room, watching the two of them play video games on your brother's Atari for hours. When Steve handed you a third controller after your brother complained you were annoying, you pretended your heart didn't skip a beat. Despite being terrible at every game, Steve let you play anyway.

At twelve years old, you had scraped your knee badly against asphalt when trying to skateboard down the Harrington's driveway after overhearing Steve mention he thought girls who skate were 'cool.' You remember sitting on the pavement blinking back tears while your brother had cackled and Steve crouched down in front of you with a sigh.

"Why are you always getting yourself hurt." He'd said, his hands gently pushing your sock down to your ankle. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"

You had only shrugged out of embarrassment.

Even then, he had disappeared into his house before coming back with bandages and peroxide. The smell had been medicinal in the hot summer air and he'd sat cleaning the blood from your knee.

At fifteen years old, your crush had become something incurable. The year Steve had started driving. The year he started showing up on the driveway in his burgundy BMW with one hand lazily hooked over the steering wheel and his sunglasses hiding half his face while girls from school had prayed to get his attention. It'd also been the age silly jealousy had warped your heart.

You knew Steve Harrington was someone you'd never get close to touching. He belonged to everybody and that was the problem.

At sixteen years old, every girl in town had a story about him, but also forgave him too easily when he had reached that stage in his life where he'd been known as the charming, wealthy, party boy who knew his way around. Eventually, he'd calmed down despite having the certain cockiness to him you'd always known.

But there were fragile moments where the performance would slip.

Late nights when your brother had gone upstairs to watch TV, Steve would sink further into the couch with an exhausted look on his face. Sometimes your mother would hand him leftovers wrapped in foiled. He would just smile with gratitude and pull her in for a hug.

The nights he stayed over were your favorite.

One time you woke up at two in the morning for water. When you walked downstairs, you would find him knocked out on the couch with one arm thrown his face. He'd always been such a restless sleeper.

Looking back, maybe you had started loving him in those moments, not just a silly crush.

Deep down, you knew it was because you knew a version of him nobody else knew, a version that was just him and not King Steve.

You knew the way he got quieter when something bothered him, the way he tapped his fingers when anxious, and the way he hated going home more than he would ever admit out loud.

By your junior year of college, at twenty years old, you had gotten good at convincing yourself you were over Steve Harrington. Distance helped, especially when Purdue University was four hours from Hawkins.

Classes, new friends, late night walks across campus with music playing in your headphones, and boys who flirted with you had given you experiences that you almost forgot about a version of yourself that doodled in her notebook over a boy with big brown eyes.

Steve had become someone easier to manage when he had only existed mostly through rushed stories from your brother on phone calls.

Steve got promoted. Steve got into some fight at a bar and lost. Steve was seeing some girl. Steve bought a new car.

He couldn't touch your life anymore.

Until May.

Finals week had exhausted everyone by the time summer break finally arrived. Outside your dorm window, students drag bags down sidewalks, the sky gray and threatening rain. You can only hope the weather doesn't worsen.

The telephone begins to ring on your nightstand. Walking over and removing it from the hook, you wedge it between your shoulder.

"Hello?" You answer distracted, struggling to zip your duffel bag.

"Your brother's an asshole."

You freeze, stomach fluttering. His voice was still able to do that to you. "Well, hello to you to. You sound so surprised." You managed.

"I am," Steve replied. "He told me he forgot he promised to pick you up and he already made plans, which is now my problem somehow."

"Sooo, you're coming instead?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"You're such a gentleman," You croon, tossing your duffel bag aside. "Will you help me with my bags too?'

"You know I will." "I'm calling from this diners telephone box, had to take a bathroom break because the drive is so damn long."

"Tell me about it. Why do you think I wanted someone else to do the driving for me in the first place?"

"You sneaky little witch. Just using people aren’t you?" He comments, making you laugh. "Anyways, I'm like twenty minutes away. Try not to bring your whole dorm with you."

The line clicks dead before you can answer and place the phone back into it's rightful place.

Immediately, you hate yourself for checking your reflection in the mirror to check your hair. On instinct, you reach for your lip gloss and swipe it against your lips.

This was so ridiculous. You were twenty, not fourteen anymore, yet you were hyperaware of everything about you all because Steve Harrington was about to drive four hours alone with you.

By the time you have your bags ready and make your way outside after checking out your dorm, you spot the BMW parked against the pavement. Girls passing turned to look as Steve stepped out from the driver's seat as rain began to fall. Some things never changed did they?

Your stomach drops at the sight of him. He looked different, less boyishly pretty and now more manly. His shoulders broader beneath his dark blue crewneck and fitting his arms just right.

Steve uses one hand to push back his damp hair from his forehead and his eyes land on you, making you freeze. He smirks, calling out, "Hey! You coming?"

You roll your eyes, walking over. "You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."

"Sorry, traffic backed up from the rain." He frowns and takes a quick glance at his watch. "If we go now we should be fine though."

He takes the largest bag from you, tossing it over his shoulder, before you can argue. Steve opens the trunk, tucking in the bag and reaching a hand out in gesture for you to hand him the rest.

"Your roommates going to miss you at all?" He asks, shutting the trunk and locking it with the keys.

"Mmm, yeah I think so. One of them cried."

He lets out a low whistle, "Damn. You breaking hearts at Purdue now? I thought you were sweet?"

"Shut up." You snort. "I doubt she'll send a postcard anyways. She only used me for homework answers in statistics."

"No worries, we'll have a better summer without people like that. Like old times." He grins in the familiar way you knew.

Steve opens the passenger door and flashes you a wink. "After you."

You just smile, sitting down and adjusting the seat to your height as he shuts the door behind you, jogging around the hood of the car before the rain could get you both anymore wet.

Steve slides into the driver's seat, starting the heater to warm up. He inserts the keys into the ignition, giving it a couple turns, and sighs. "You hungry?"

"Ummm, a little." You confess.

"There's leftover fries in the bag from the diner if you want some" He turns over the seat as he backs the car out of is spot, managing to grab the paper bag sitting behind. "They got kinda wet though."

You eye the soaking wet paper bag and scrunch your nose, "What the hell, Steven. You're disgusting."

"What! They're still good!"

"Soggy fries are good? Would you eat those?" You deadpan, raising a brow.

There's a pause of silence until, "...Nah. Maybe you're right." He coughs and clears his throat. "We'll grab some dinner in a couple hours in the next town. Promise."

You laugh despite yourself and turn your head to look outside the window, watching as the campus begins to empty out, students hugging goodbye and loading up cars.

Steve glances at your direction briefly as you begins to make a turn out of the campus, "You going to miss it?"

"Huh? Purdue?"

"Mhm."

You hum, pondering for a moment. Sure, you'd been homesick when you'd started, but overtime you'd found another place and friends to call home. Out the window, you watch the buildings blur past as you drive farther. Finally, you admit, "Yeah, more than I thought I would. I'll probably try and make plans for my friend Beth to come down to Hawkins."

"Do you like being away?" He asks, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel while the other tapped against his thigh. "From Hawkins, I mean."

Truthfully, no. You liked being able to ignore your feelings, but you didn't like not being able to communicate with loved ones mostly through mail and telephone.

"I like..." You stop to carefully consider your words. "being somewhere where nobody knows every single thing about me. So, no and yes."

"Yeah, that sounds nice. I don't blame you." Steve gives a faint smile.

The roads begin to stretch longer as buildings become fields then empty highways, Steve cautiously keeping distance from other cars.

You blow a puff of air, bored, reaching into the dashboard to search through Steve's collection of cassette tapes. Steve catches you from the corner of his eyes. He clicks his tongue, "Hey, you thief. What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing music?" You snip as if it's obvious. "It's too quiet in here that it's going to drive me insane."

"Is my own voice not enough for you?" He mockingly pouts but snatches the cassette of your choice out of your hand, inserting it into the player of the radio.

"You'll never be Bruce Springsteen, sorry to tell you."

"Are you still seeing that girl?" You ask, trying to sound casual.

Steve looked confused, "What girl?"

"The one Anthony mentioned. Blonde, brown eyes, in STEM..." You explain, listing of the traits your older brother had mentioned over the phone last Winter. You remember hooking up with some guy afterwards.

He huffs a laugh, "Oh. No."

"What do you mean no?" You press.

"That lasted like two months. It's been long done." He says casually as if it had been nothing. You truly thought he'd liked her, even if she'd been one of many girlfriends that wouldn't work out.

"What happened? I thought you liked her?"

He pursed his lips, "I mean, yeah she was nice."

Steve seemed almost reluctant, like there was more to the story than he wanted to give.

"Anddd?"

"And that's it." He sighs. "Look, I could give a thousand of excuses of why it didn't work but I can't besides saying I just wasn't feeling anything. Nice isn't enough and I didn't want to waste her time."

"Oh..." You say.

You'd be lying if you said you were disappointed at the fact his love life had once again failed. You're a horrible and selfish person, you think.

"Plus, I think I've made too much mistakes doing that in the past. It wouldn't be fair, y'know?"

"Growing up, Harrington?"

"Watch it," He scolds.

You stick your tongue out playfully before resuming your session of staring out the window in distraction of your nerve wracking thoughts and the fact Steve was sitting a foot away.

Shivering, the feel goosebumps rise on your arms and you rub your hands against them in hope to ease.

Steve seems notice and frowns, glimpsing at you before turning back to the road. "Are you still cold?"

"Nope."

"Liar," He chuckles. Turning the heater on with the dial, he reaches his arm behind his seat afterwards, grabbing hold of a folded up blanket and tosses it to you.

"Oh, no, no, Steve. You don't have--" You reassure, holding your hands up.

"I know, it's okay." He cuts you off. "Just give it back when you're done. We both know you're a thief."

"Yeah, yeah."

The droplets of ran pounds against the windshield, the dark clouds swirling in the sky as thunder erupts threateningly. It stirs fear in your chest, heart picking up its pace.

"Shit, it's getting bad." Steve points out. Trying to ease the mood, he jokes. "Think some force of nature is trying to kill us?"

"I don't know about me, but maybe just you. I hope the lightning picks you over me once we get out." You sass.

His mouth is gaped in shock. Finally, he says under his breath, "Psycho."

You try to focus on the music the next couple of minutes, but you can’t stand the silence between the two of you.

After years, you always want to know every single detail about him, to hear him talk about the special things his life and what he has going for him.

Every time you hope it’s something good. It’s all he’s ever deserved.

"How's work? Aren't you doing this whole coaching gig?"

"Don't forget sex ed teacher on the side. But, yeah, it's great so far." He seems to light up, happy you asked. "Really great."

He switches lanes before he continued, "For so long I was so confused and didn't know what I wanted, but now? I don't think I've been happier. Sure, my dad thinks the pay is shit, but at least I'm doing something with my life now."

“I think it’s good, Steve. You’re starting somewhere and I think it fits you perfectly.”

He’s shy then and goes quiet. You think the conversation is done with until:

"I- I really want to try college again. Get a degree in physical education. I know, it probably sounds stupid. I slacked so much in High School. I cared too much about the wrong things, now I'm paying for it."

Your heart breaks at his self deprecation. He’s always struggled with his self esteem underneath all that confidence he paraded around with. Deep down, he just wanted to be worth something in anothers eyes.

"It's not silly, not at all." You study him, staring at the slope of his nose down to the shadow of stubble along his jaw. "A lot of people lose their way too like you did, and you found your way back. You're trying and I think that's enough to be proud of, Stevie."

Steve gives you a quick look of shock, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Thanks." He coughs before the corner of his mouth quirks up. "You're still holding on to that nickname? Jeez, you don't change."

"It reminds me of Fleetwood, it's cute!" You protest.

"Okay, then." He simply laughs.

"The more you hate it, the more I'm going to keep using it."

"Uh huh,"

Rain slammed against the windshield so violently that Steve had to lean forward, squinting his eyes to get a good look at the road. The wipers moved back and forth as the highway stretched ahead, the only thing visible being the headlights illuminating the road and the flashes of lightning in the sky.

Suddenly, the car swerves slightly, making you gasp. Before your brain can process, Steve's arm is bracing against your chest and pushing you back against the seat.

"Fucking hell," He curses, glaring daggers at the truck that zooms past. Steve removes his arm and asks, "You okay?"

Placing a hand over your chest, you nod. "Shit, yeah. It happened so quick, I wasn't expecting it."

Steve hums in agreement and directs his attention back to the road where water pools and the wind starts push hard enough against the BMW that your stomach hurts.

"Damn it," He mutters, directing the car to pull off to the next exit that definitely wasn't part of your plans. "We're not going to be able to make it back tonight. I'm not trying to have us soaring off a cliff when there's idiots who can't drive."

You sit up straighter, frowning, "What're we doing then if not going home?"

Steve rubs a hand across his jaw tiredly, "There should be a motel like ten minutes off this exit. We can grab food before we get a room. We'll just leave in the morning when this calms down."

Calm down, you think. Sharing a room with Steve Harrington sounds terrifying in theory, but what other choice did you have? This was the practical choice, you'd be stupid if you let your feelings get in the way of your safety.

"Unless you'd rather we soar off the cliff to our deaths?" Steve jokes in attempt to lighten the mood.

You'll be fine.

You wave a hand in dismissal and laugh, "Whatever. Yeah, the motel should be fine."

"And if we get murdered? We'll just haunt Anthony and tell him this was mostly his fault."

That was not comforting.

The motel, when you arrived after thirty minutes of driving in pouring rain and a quick fast food pick up, was old but comfortable looking enough that you were able to feel relieved.

The sign buzzed as streams of water poured off the roof. The parking lot was nearly empty except for Steve's BMW and an old truck. Inside, the lobby air smelled faintly like burnt coffee and mildew.

"I'm scared Steve," You whisper, eyeing your surroundings as Steve signed the check in receipt. "What if we get murdered like you said--"

"Okay, first of all, I was joking." Steve says, taking the room key from the old woman behind the desk, who didn't bother to look up from her crossword puzzle. "Second, you watch way too much movies. I think they're starting to rot your brain."

"Have you seen 'Psycho?' That could--"

"Relax!" Steve gives you an incredulous look as if he's unsure whether to laugh. He grabs the greasy paper bag from you. "Let's go to our room, eat, shower, and before you know it you'll feel fine. C'mon."

When you and Steve walk outside and up the rickety stairs to unlock your room, you’re met with the sight of a muted floral bedspread and a television sitting on the dresser. One bed.

"Shit, I asked for a two bed." Steve scoffs and tosses your duffel on the bed along with his overnight bag. Thankfully he came prepared based on weather before he left. "You want me to go ask for a new room?"

Not wanting to complain, you shake your head nervously, "No, this is fine."

Steve just nods, seating himself down at the edge of the bed with a long exhale. You stand still, unable to move from your spot. Maybe it was because there was no brother nearby, no parents, and no friends, but just the two of you in such a vulnerable space.

Steve yawns with a stretch, "You can go ahead and shower first."

You nod, practically running to the shower. The bathroom fills with steam as you turn the faucet, undressing and stepping inside.

You find yourself standing beneath the hot water longer necessary, letting the heat unknot the stiffness aching in your shoulders. Your thoughts felt loud. This is ridiculous, nothing is happening and is going to happen. Steve is Steve, your brother's best friend who you've spent majority of your life trying not to embarrass yourself around. You're going to go back in there and act normal. You'll be back on the road before you know it.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, the sound of the microwave beeps and you smell the delicious scent of fries and burgers. Steve turns his head, pulling both yours and his food out on to plates.

"You took forever. Were you swimming in there?" He says, handing you your plate before he goes to sit cross legged on the bed against the headboard.

"You're so dramatic, it was only thirty minutes." You join him and take a bite out of your burger.

"Thirty minutes too long," He quips, grabbing the remote and flipping through the television channels. "So, what are we in the mood for, Seinfeld or Beverly Hills? Take your pick."

"Seinfeld. I don't have the attention span for dramatics right now," You reply, stealing one of Steve's fries.

"Seinfeld it is," Steve muses and throws the remote away.

The tv plays on the next twenty minutes as the two of you eat, the episode plot being one of the character's apartments getting robbed, leading to an argument over who gets to move into a new apartment. You weren't paying attention much if you were being honest, more focused on the heat of his body next to you and trying not to seem obviously affected.

"Y'know..." Steve starts and you recognize his familiar tone of mischief. "this episode kind of reminds me of all the arguments you and Anthony have."

You turn to look at him, raising a brow. "Yeah because he's hardheaded."

"Must be a genetic thing." He muses, not turning his gaze away from the screen.

You gasp, smacking his arm. "Don't compare me to him! He's ten times worse than I'll ever be."

"Oh trust me, I believe you." He ponders for a moment before breaking into laughter. "Shit, remember when he jumped off the roof to backflip into my parent's pool?"

In fact, you do. It was one of your favorite embarrassing moments to blackmail your older brother with. He'd been bawling all the way to the emergency room while your mother laid it into him.

"Yes! He's was so stupid. I even told him it probably wasn't a good idea, but no, he insisted he'd look like those superheros from those comics you guys liked so much." You scoffed.

"Man, my mom was so pissed."

"Well, you technically encouraged him on, so I'd be too." He only laughs at your words, giving you a small nudge.

The conversation from there unraveled from one memory to another before you knew it as time passed. From middle school disasters of your brother getting into ridiculous fights, terrible haircuts you cried your eyes out over and threatened to never step outside again, and to Steve accidentally lighting fireworks too close to the garage one Fourth of July, the two of you laugh as you bond over the past.

Steve remembered everything which you couldn't decide was good or bad, especially since he remembered the most embarrassing moments like the time he and Anthony walked in on you kissing your James Spader poster in High School.

"You got so red that you yelled at us to get out," Steve cackled while laying on his side, hand rested under his chin, full attention now only on you.

"I was 15! That was traumatizing! How would you feel if someone walked in on you and found your old magazine collection under your bed."

"Shut up."

"Nope," You say, popping the p.

The both of you watch about three more episodes before trash is discarded in the can next to the bed and somewhere along the way the lamp on the nightstand is turned off, the room lit up only by the blue screen of the television.

"Anyone special in your life?" Steve randomly asks, sounding almost playful if you ignored the weird tone. "Only fair I ask you since you interrogated me earlier."

"Pft, no not really. Robin keeps trying to set me up with this guy though."

"Oh." There's a weird pause. "Are you gonna...see him or anything?"

You scrunch your nose and turn away from the TV. "Uhh I don't know? Why?"

Steve's teeth a clenched, body going rigid. He scoots away to give some space and now you know something is deeply wrong. "No reason just-- I don't know. Maybe you should let her."

"Steve, I don't even know the guy."

"So? If you like him then you like him" He shrugs, resting his weight by laying his palms flat on the bed.

Since when did he dictate what you do or don't do with your life and your romantic life at that.

You stand abruptly and cross your arms over your chest. “Why the hell are you so mad? I never even said I liked him.”

"Whatever." He scoffs.

"Why do you even care?"

"I don't"

"Then why are you acting weird!" You yell, wincing. You don't need the owner marching down here and banging at the door.

He doesn't answer, turning back to the television instead. You know he's just trying to avoid the confrontation of whatever was going on in that head of his. You hated how stubborn he could be.

Fine, he wants to act that way? You'll let him.

"I need air." You announce and start to head towards the door, hand already turning the knob.

The seems to alert him because he snaps his heads, face falling. "Wait- shit- no. I'm sorry."

“Leave me alone.” You snapped.

"I don't know what's up with me, seriously." He pleads. You can tell he's apologetic and not just saying mindless sorrys just to get you to shut up. "Please, I'm sorry. It's raining"

You want to be mad and leave him alone in the dark, probably go to the nearest vending machine and grab a snack, sit somewhere so the rain doesn't soak you.

But you don't have it in you.

"Fine."

"C'mere." Steve said quietly, making your stomach drop.

He gestures with his hand, sitting upright now, facial expression calm and giving you the opportunity to say no. Except, you don't want to.

Your body is moving before you can stop yourself, sitting yourself back on the bed, scooting closer to him and sitting on your knees, brushing against his own. The feeling of his leg against you is enough to stir excitement deep in your belly.

Neither of you speak, the only sound in the room being your breathing, the rain tapping against the window with the occasional crackle of lightning, and your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Was this actually happening or were you deluded?

“‘M sorry…”

“It’s…it’s okay, Stevie.” You say shakily.

“I just get…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, chewing his lip.

His fingers brush against your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek. You shiver at the contact. "What are you thinking?" He murmurs.

"That--" You swallowed. "that I don't know if I'm dreaming or not."

"I'm right here," He hums, his eyes gazing down at your lips. He nibbles at him bottom lip as if he were fighting temptation. "are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Here with me."

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and you nod, "Yeah...I am, Steve."

His lips slowly catch your own, molding together as you gasp against his, before slowly letting yourself melt into his warmth. Your hand catches against the front of his shirt as the kiss deepens.

It was warm and dizzying, so different and overwhelming compared to fantasies you'd imagined over the years.

You'd been completely wrong about Steve being a great kisser. He was momentous and no man you'd been with before could compare to the way his hands drifted down to your waist, drawing you closer onto his lap.

Steve rubs a hand up and down your spine, sneaking a hand under your top. His hands are warm against the coolness of your skin, his whole presence inviting.

His hand leaves and he pulls at the hem of your top. "Off." He orders, no questioning in his tone.

Inclined to listen, you throw your tank over your head, the air hitting your naked breasts and torso immediately.

You feel sheepish when Steve's hazel eyes unapologetically stare hard at your breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. A soft sound leaves his swollen lips as he brings his hands up to give an experimental squeeze.

When you let a whimper slip, unable to contain it, Steve smiles. "So fucking pretty. Are they sensitive, hm?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, wanting to play around a bit just to see what he'd do, so, you shake your head. "No."

"Really? Not even if I..." He mused and pinches your nipples, causing you to jolt. "do this?"

"Shit!" You're so wet by anything he does, even a little bit of touching your damn tits had your panties sticking to your pussy. "Want more...please."

"Yeah?" Steve peppers kisses against your jaw and makes his way down to your neck, chest, and ending at your sternum. "Gonna suck these pretty tits then."

You suck in a sharp breath when his lips wrap around your right bud while his hand teases the left, thumb rolling it in between his thumb and index. He gives a couple of suckles and flicks his tongue against your right, moaning. Steve could cum in his pants right here right now by simply doing this, nothing else.

You mewl, your fingers gliding into his brunette strands of hair and tugging them hard. Steve hisses at the pain but makes no move to stop you, giving your nipple a scolding bite before moving to your left one to give it the same treatment.

If you weren't so distracted, you'd be nonstop apologizing.

Steve moves his right hand, exploring down your navel into your pj shorts. They come off and you're left in just your panties. Giving one last harsh suck to your breast, he pulls off to stare you deep in the eyes, his pupils dilated, "You're so beautiful..." Steve traces the outline of your clothed pussy with his fingers, ghosting over your sensitive clit. You shiver and dig your nails into his shoulder. "prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"You're just saying that," You giggle, avoiding eye contact as he takes off your panties, a your wetness clinging to it before snapping.

His thick brows furrow and says sternly, "I'm not. You know why?"

"...Why?"

"Because," He starts, teasing his middle and ring finger against your hole before dipping them inside with an obscene wet sound. Your breath stutters at feeling of them beginning to move in and out of you with practiced skill. "besides you obviously being fucking gorgeous, you're also the same person who has the biggest heart I know."

"Th- that's-- fuh-- ckk-- you." You moan, eyes shutting closed. He spreads his fingers, scissoring your walls and stretching them wide.

"Not at all. You? You look at people with the kindest eyes and care about everybody, you always have. You remember the smallest details people tell you, you sit with them when they're hurting, you're funny without trying," He laughs, finding your sweet spot and prodding at it. "and you make every room warmer when you walk in. I mostly like how you cry over the silliest movies."

"I do all that...?" You slur.

"Mhm. Dunno how you see the beauty in everyone but miss it all in yourself."

His praise hits you like a truck and you can practically feel a heartbeat within your cunt, your walls squeezing tightly around his fingers, not wanting him to leave.

Needing more, you begin to lift your hips up and down, bouncing and steadying your weight by grabbing on to his shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s it. Ride my fingers justtt like that.” He coos, meeting every roll of your hips with a curl of his fingers against your walls.

Your lashes flutter against your cheeks and you let out a low whine. Cunt sucking in his fingers, you lift the weight of your body up and down, up and down, attempting to reach the peak of pleasure you so desperately longed for.

“Steve. Mfmh…feels so good.”

“What does honey? C’mon, tell me.” He hums, pressing wet kisses against the nape of your throat until he elicits a whimper out of you, confirming that he’s found that certain spot that turns you into mush.

“Your fingers,” You pant, grinding harder down on his hand. “so thick and so deep in me."

You let out a ragged whine at the pressure slowly building up deep in your lower belly.”

Steve groans, smacking your ass in response. “Love that you talk so fucking nasty.” He begins to speed up, the pads of his index and middle pressing deep inside you. You arch your back with a cry. “You close? I can feel it with how tight this pretty wet pussy is getting.”

You nod profusely, wrapping your arms around his neck and hiding your face in it with a moan. Your hips and thighs begin to ache, your movements beginning to slow.

“Yeah, mhm- but can’t- ” You said, grabbing Steve’s wrist pleadingly. “Steve…”

“You’re already tired, honey?” He clicks his tongue in faux sympathy, but nonetheless holds you down to force you still, thrusting his fingers up into you. “Well, that can’t do. Can’t leave my pretty girl hanging.”

"'m cumming, m' cumming, oh fuckkkk--" The second his thumb hits your clit, rubbing firm circles, your orgasm crashes over you like a dam and you cum with a broken moan, your words spilling out.

He hasn't even fucked you properly yet and you already feel dumbed out.

Steve’s fingers continue for a minute to help you ride it out before he pulls them out, slipping them into his mouth. "So good."

You lift your head from his shoulder, mouth dropping in shock as he sucks your arousal clean from him. The heat of embarrassment hits you and you feel inclined to look away from the dirty sight yet you can’t pull away.

His fingers leave his mouth with a pop and he moans in satisfaction. A dirty part of you secretly wishes he’d shove them in your mouth.

Steve shifts you off his lap and lays you down on your back oh so gently, kissing you in between words, “Trust me,” kiss. “I wanna get a real taste but,” kiss. “need to feel you around me real fucking bad.”

He pauses, pulling away to look at you, "Only if you want to though. I don't want to pressure you or anything--"

You pull him by the collar of his shirt for another kiss and he instantly smiles into it, tongue sliding against your bottom lip for permission. Parting your lips, his tongue slips inside, the wet muscle flicking against your own as it explores your mouth.

You both pull apart, the two of you breathing heavily. A string of saliva being the only thing connecting the two of you now.

"I want to." You say finally, staring up at the man you've yearned so long for, the man who'd always been so kind to you.

A grin tugs at Steve's lips and he sits back on his knees to pull his shirt off by the hem, revealing patches of hair on his chest leading down to the delicious happy trail down his soft tummy into his pants (he always complained he didn't have abs, but if anything you thought it was the hottest thing).

You note the thick bulge restrained by his jeans and suddenly you feel intimidated.

You'd heard the rumors before, rumors that made you pout in jealousy at one point in your life where you felt you could never know Steve in such a vulnerable way. You wouldn't believe yourself a year ago if you knew you'd be having sex with your older brother's best friend.

The metal of his belt clinks and he yanks the belt out of the loops and pulling down his jeans. After his boxers are off, your eyes widen at the sight of the thick hard cock slapping against his stomach.

Steve grunts, giving it a couple tugs. Like you suspected, the dark patches of hair trail down to the pubic hair tousled around his cock. It's long in length and incredibly girthy, the veins running up until the pink swollen head leaking with precum.

The thought of him fucking your throat and guiding you by your hair while praising you with sweet nothings while you gag, turns you on more than it should and you clench your thighs together.

He takes notice of your nerves and frowns, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" You say too quickly.

He shakes his head, "I wanna make this as comfortable for you as possible, so I need to know what's" He gently taps your forehead. "going on in that head of yours. Okay, honey?"

You're quiet, unsure whether it's such a miniscule thing to point out in the first place. Giving in, you mumble, "You're just...huge."

Steve blinks before he bursts into a fit of laughter, his eyes crinkling. You're absolutely mortified. "Don't laugh at me! You told me to tell you."

He stalls his laughter and is immediately crawling on top of you, brows furrowed in concern. "No, no, I'm not laughing at you, honey. I'm more so with..." His eyes flick down to his obvious erection. "the situation, I guess."

"...Is it even going to fit?"

He huffs a laugh, leaning in to give your forehead a quick kiss, "I'll make it, don't worry."

Shit.

"You trust me, honey?" He asks one more time.

Exhaling, you nod. "Yeah, yeah, I do."

Suddenly, his face drops and he curses, "Fuck, I don't have protection." He drags a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry--"

"It's okay," You smile. "I have an IUD, should be fine."

He pauses, processing the information before returning your smile. "Alright then, you're full of surprises aren't you?"

"I'd say so," You shrug.

Nudging your legs apart with his knee, he readjusts and rests his left arm beside your head and uses his free hand to wrap around his dick, guiding the swollen tip to your leaking entrance.

He slides it up and down your slit before dragging it up to your clit, slapping it firmly a couple times, sending a jolt of pleasure.

"Put it in!" You complained.

He taunts, "I thought good girls were patient?"

"I am," You pout, bucking your hips up. "But it doesn't mean I don't want you to fuck me sensele--"

You're unable to finish your sentence, words breaking into a high pitched moan at the feeling of his huge cock intruding, the hot skin of him filling you whole as he bottoms out.

"You were saying?"

"Just- just move, please."

Steve starts off slow, moving his hips back and thrusting forward with a couple shallow thrusts before he grinds against you deeper than his fingers had been able to reach.

Picking up the pace, he draws his cock out all the way to barely the tip and slamming back in to begin a series of devoted thrusts.

Mewling, you slide your hands to his back, nails scratching against the skin of his shoulder blades. You tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him as you shamelessly moan. (The both of you should be expecting a complaint from the motel owner later...)

He leans down to lick the base of your neck, tongue flat as he drags up to a stop and sucking multiple spots, marks blooming as proof of the passionate night that will soon become a memory.

You feel grief knowing this will be over in just a few minutes, but you won't worry about that now, you'll just make the most of it.

The bed creaks under your weight, the rhythm of him fucking into you relentless with the disgustingly filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin.

"So goddamn tight and wet," He breathes into your neck. "this all for me?"

"Yes, yes," You urge him on, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts and he moans. "all for you, Steve- mmf fuck."

"Yeahhh?" You can feel him smile against your skin, giving a couple more kisses before pulling back to get a good look at you. "All mine?"

Word coils at your throat, unable to fully get anything out besides broken sobs.

"C'mon baby. Talk to me like the good girl I know you are. Need to hear how good you feel as I fuck this tight pussy."

"Love you," You drawl out with a whine, squeezing your eyes shut. "Love you so much, Steve."

Suddenly, his hips come to a stop and you're left in confusion until it hits you. Oh no.

Eyes snapping wide, your palm slaps against your mouth as you stare up at Steve.

He looks like he’s seen a ghost, eyes wide, hair tousled in a mess, and he’s so still you can’t tell if he’s currently present in the moment or debating on packing and leaving you stranded in the motel.

You need him to say something, anything. Anything to reassures you didn’t destroy everything.

Blinking back tears threatening to spill, you start, “Steve—“

"You love me?" He whispers.

He’s going to curse you out, call you disgusting and a perverted loser who’d been pathetically yearning for someone that knew he wasn’t her own.

Don’t leave. Please.

"I'm so, so, so sorry Steve. Please just forget I said anything, I didn't mean to--"

He shuts you up with his lips crashing against yours and his thrusts resuming, the wet slap of his balls mixed with your arousal against the fat of your ass.

You cry out in surprise, legs immediately wrapping around his waist as his cock drives hard and fast in to you.

His thrusts grow frantic at your words, his free hand sliding under your lower back to lift your hips high as he keeps your grip on your right thigh, driving his swelling cock deeper. He kisses you sloppily, swallowing your whimpers as he whines against your mouth.

His thrusts grow messy and his hips stutter. Breaking away from you, a groan rattles through his chest, "Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck-- I can't hold it--"

With every hit of the bulbous tip against your g-spot, you feel closer and closer to the edge.

"'M gonna cum, Steve!"

"Shh, I know, baby," His jaw is tight, attempting to restrain himself from finishing before you. "I got you, I got you. 'M close too...tell me where you want it, 'kay?"

"Shittt-- inside." You gasp.

He moans loudly at your words, eyes fluttering, that he almost came right there. "Ah, fuckkk. You sure?"

Instead of answering, you press the heels of your feet against the dip of his back, pushing him forward and deeper into you, profusely nodding.

He doesn't have to ask again and jackhammering his hips against you until finally the band deep inside you snaps and you cum around him with a high pitched whine, arching your back.

Ropes of cum fill you as he releases with a groan, stilling his hips deep inside you and grinding deep against you to ride both of your orgasms out.

"Fucking love you so much," He pants, kissing you from your cheeks, forehead, jaw, and finally planting several on your swollen lips. "love you, love you, love you..."

Your heart does a flip. Did he truly mean it? Your mind had barely begun to return back to it's fully conscious state after mind blowing sex.

Trembles coursing through your legs, they weakly fall from Steve's waist.

It takes a minute for Steve to gain enough energy to pull his cock out before breathlessly slumping the weight of his body next to you. He pulls you against his chest without hesitation, so naturally that you don't know how to move forward from here.

"Did you..." You finally say as his free hand rubs up and down your thigh soothingly. "did you mean what you said?"

He stiffens, "What do you mean?" He knows exactly what you mean.

"That..." You gulped.

"That I love you?"

"Mhm."

"Of course I meant it," He smiles when your finger tips graze against his face, dragging against his moles delicately. "meant every single word. You're everything, y'know?"

You stop your movements and blink.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He laughs awkwardly.

"Umm, like what?"

He groans, dragging a hand up his face. "Like- I don't know! Like you regret it or something."

"No, no, no," You shake your head, internally cursing at your own dumb silence for making him think otherwise. "that's not it, it's just that...it's just I'm having a hard time processing what just happened."

"Besides the obvious?" He raises a brow.

Immediately, you smack his chest and he just chuckles, grabbing your wrist and giving it a brief kiss.

"You know what I mean you big dummy." You roll your eyes before your tone grows serious, almost shy. “Just…did we do it because…?”

Finally understanding where you were going, his brows furrow sternly and he shakes his head, “Stop. Baby, I don’t want you thinking we had sex because of some storm or because we got stuck in a motel.”

Your pulse quickens. “Okay…”

“Like I said, it’s because I love you and have been for months now.”

His words hit you and you stop, thinking you misheard, “Wait. What? Months???”

“Ah…” Steve’s cheeks grow hot with blood and he’s no longer looking at you now, distracted with the ceiling fan spinning.

You’d assumed this was a very recent thing, not something that had been going on for the past year directly under your nose.

"Steve, when?"

"Um," He coughs. "around Christmas."

“Christmas???” You gasp loudly and he cringes. “That was like six months ago!”

“I’m aware…”

You can’t help the stupid smile that grows on your face and you laugh, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling your face into his chest deeper, looking up at him. "Aww, Stevie you had a crush on me? Is that why you got all like that a bit ago?" You then pause, furrowing your eyebrows. "Are you actually being serious? If you're messing with me I'll shave your head while you're asleep."

"You wouldn't."

"Mmm, I dunno."

"Brat." He smacks your ass and you squeal, kicking him in the leg, causing him to grunt. "And duh, I'm serious."

He seems to ponder, sentimental at the memory of snow falling and your family gathered together when he'd been invited to celebrate with like every year. "I realized when you and Anthony were making the stupid gingerbread houses. Man, you're so competitive. You begged me to be the judge of who made the better house and everything. When I said you, you were so happy over something so silly and I just...I don't know, I guess it hit me."

You remember. You'd layered your house in pastel blue and pink frosting with gumdrops sprinkled across. You insisted yours was the epitome of a perfect house compared to Anthony's absolute mess that had no theme nor color coordination. So, you'd look to Steve who'd been wearing that sweater of his he'd looked ridiculously good in, with big eyes and hands clasped together.

"I had no idea." You whisper, running a hand through his messy hair. "I honestly thought you didn't care, that I had some stupid little crush for years."

"Years?" He asks in genuine confusion.

"Don't tell me you didn't know."

"No, swear." He then laughs. "Wow, years?"

Now you feel embarrassed, regretting you even said anything in the first place. "Shut up, Steven."

He gives a half smirk and flicks your forehead, "It's okay, I'm not judging. Just took us some time, that's all."

"...Hmph."

Moments pass and it’s silent but comfortable, easy enough to ease into together as you sigh into his chest, hiding your face into it as he holds you close.

If you could, you’d melt together and become one with him.

“Fuck.” Steve curses. “He’s going to kill me.”

You freeze, realizing what he means. Not wanting to worry about the issue of your brother at hand, you scoff. “So?”

“So?” He says exasperated, hiding his face in your hair, voice miserable. “So, he might actually kill me. Do you realize that?”

“Maybe you deserve it.”

“Hush.”

With confessions and sex, you wonder what’s the next step in the both of yours complicated relationship you were sure wouldn’t be exposed to anyone outside the two of you anytime soon. Privacy seemed the best route, especially if wanting to avoid…potential conflict.

Sure, he confessed his love, but did he want to take this seriously?

“What are we exactly?” You blurt out.

He just stares out, mouth opening and closing and you immediately regret your words. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to answer that—“

“I want to be your boyfriend.” He says quickly, flushing afterwards. “Um— if you’ll let me. I meant it when I said I love you. This isn’t just messing around to me. Even if…a certain someone beats my ass.”

You don’t give a response for a couple seconds, leaving him holding his breath. Finally, you smile and lean up to kiss his lips then the tip of his nose in finality. “Is that a good enough answer?”

AUTHORS NOTE: sooo…maybe might write part 2 where anthony finds out and shit hits the fan? you can kinda tell i got lazy towards the end lol.

general taglist: @freezerspouse @mikefaistwife @harringtondarling @lostbilletsdoux @fangirlll2000 @keerygirlie98 @djobrina1 @ferventcore @hagsgshh @hisfr4nkinmyocean @looniejoonie @ghost-kind398 @yapatrontheyapper @jinxispunk @veeweepeeknee @oliviaharrington @pinkielovesxoxo123 @folkwhore8 @ftdtlov3r @kamillea07 @gcfspice

[icallhimjoey]

squinty joe

[kirammanss]

2nd heatwave coming, someone shoot me

[spookyghostmansion]

More stranger things but breakfast club

[meatmutt-sfw]

i don’t think people understand how tragic it was that eddie died in MARCH of 1986

Dio, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Slayer, Motorhead, Megadeth and like every band he loved released albums (arguably some of their best too) in the months after he passed in ‘86 like the definition of tragedy is he wasn’t able to listen to them

[beasbrain]

I Pine, I Perish

description: a cutie lil fic where eddie is just completely obsessed with you. who knew all he needed to bring you two together was jason carver beating his ass?

pairing: yearning!eddie x you (fem!reader)

tags: yearning!eddie, protective!reader, eddie x reader, no y/n, reader insert, slow (ish) burn, first kiss, happy ending, fluff the house down boots, high school romance, so much fucking yearning, eddie's head over heels

WC: 4.5k

TW: bullying, violence, some smoochies

A/N: requested by @midgardian-rogue hope you enjoy!! sorry for the wait! life is kicking my behind. i haven't forgotten about you all. reblogs are always appreciated my loves<33 hope you all enjoy an ounce of some innocent fluff before final girl pt.2 bc......

People talked about love like it happened all at once. Like it was lightning. Like one look across a crowded room, and suddenly the rest of your life made sense.

Eddie Munson thought that was complete and utter bullshit.

Love wasn't lightning; it was erosion. The kind that wore you down one unnoticed glance at a time until one day you looked up and realized you'd built an entire religion around someone who didn't even know your favorite color.

Everyone knew you.

Not in the way they knew Jason Carver, Jason demanded attention. You never asked for it…it simply just followed you.

Teachers smiled a little wider when you answered questions. Freshmen gravitated toward you on the first day of school like frightened birds, somehow knowing you were safe.

It was infuriating. Not because Eddie disliked you. God, that would've made things so much easier, no. You were kind.

Genuinely, painfully, kind.

The kind of person who remembered birthdays without writing them down. The kind of beauty that had nothing to do with your face. Though...that certainly wasn't hurting anything.

You smiled with your whole body. Your shoulders, your eyes, even your laugh looked warm. Sometimes Eddie wondered if the sun waited for your permission before coming up. Which—

Jesus Christ.

See? This was exactly the problem. He couldn't even think about you without sounding like he'd swallowed a Hallmark card. He'd never even spoken to you. Well, not really.

Sure, there'd been little moments. A borrowed pencil sophomore year. A quiet "thank you" when he'd held a door open. Passing each other in the hallway enough times that nodding became an unspoken ritual.

But conversations? Actual conversations? Those belonged to people who lived on the same planet. You lived somewhere else entirely.

Some place made of honor roll certificates, volunteer hours, and Sunday mornings that probably smelled of pancakes instead of cigarette smoke.

Eddie had long since accepted that there were invisible lines running through Hawkins High. Athletes. Nerds. Burnouts. Band kids. Freaks. You somehow belonged to all of them, while he belonged to exactly one.

Hellfire. The trailer park. The people adults warned their children about. 

Wayne always said Eddie had expensive taste. Not in clothes or cars, but people.

"You always go lookin' at things that ain't yours to carry," Wayne had muttered once while Eddie admired an old cherry-red Gibson through a pawn shop window.

At the time, Eddie thought he meant guitars. Now he wasn't so sure. Because every morning, without meaning to, he'd find himself searching the parking lot before first bell. Just to see if your car was there.

And every afternoon, he'd linger exactly thirty seconds too long outside English because he knew your classroom was across the hall. Not enough to be obvious, just enough to catch one glimpse.

Then he'd spend the rest of the day pretending that was somehow enough, though it never was.

The thing about memories was that they lied. Or maybe they just... polished themselves over time.

Eddie couldn't remember what he'd eaten yesterday. Couldn't remember what movie he'd watched with Wayne the week before. But he remembered that afternoon, every stupid, humiliating second of it.

It had been almost exactly a year ago.

The last bell had rung, sending Hawkins High spilling into the hallways in a tidal wave of backpacks and locker doors slamming shut. Eddie had lingered by his locker, stuffing loose campaign notes into a folder while Gareth argued with Jeff about whether dragons were technically reptiles.

He never heard Jason coming. The locker door slammed shut before Eddie could grab it, the metal rattling loud enough to make nearby students jump.

"Well, if it isn't the freak."

Eddie sighed. "Christ, Carver. Don't you ever get tired?"

Jason leaned against the neighboring locker with that smug grin Eddie had grown to hate. Andy and Chance flanked him like loyal guard dogs, each wearing the same self-satisfied expression.

"Nah."

Jason reached out, flicking Eddie's shoulder with unnecessary force.

"I actually look forward to these little chats."

"I don't."

"Funny."

Another shove. Not enough to knock him down, but just enough to remind him who had thirty pounds and varsity sports behind him.

"You know," Jason continued loudly, making sure the people walking by could hear, "I heard you recruited another freshman into your little Satan club."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "You guys are really obsessed with us."

"Just looking out for the town."

Same script, different day. Eddie had learned years ago that fighting back only made it worse.

So he leaned against the lockers and waited for them to get bored. He almost missed the footsteps approaching.

"What are you doing?" Your voice wasn't loud.

Jason turned first. "So, this doesn't concern—"

"It concerns me now."

You stepped between passing students without the slightest hesitation, your backpack still hanging off one shoulder.

"Move."

Jason laughed. "Excuse me?"

"I said move."

Andy scoffed. "You serious?"

Without another word, you planted a hand square against Andy's chest and shoved him back just enough to force him away from Eddie. Not hard, but just enough to make it clear whose space he'd invaded.

Jason stared at you, his jaw tightening. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" you echoed. "Three against one seems pretty pathetic to me."

"We're talking."

"No." You folded your arms. "You were cornering him."

Jason took one step closer. "I'd be careful if I were you."

Eddie's stomach dropped.

But you didn't move. Hell, you didn't even blink.

Instead, one eyebrow lifted. "What?"

Your voice stayed infuriatingly calm. "You gonna hit a girl?"

Jason's expression hardened. "I didn't say—"

"No?" You tilted your head. "I mean... you've already got one thing in common with your father."

You paused, eyeing him up and down.

"It'd be a shame if you decided to copy the rest of his behavior too."

Jason's face went red. Not from embarrassment, but pure fury. The kind of fury that made his nostrils flare.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" You shrugged. "Then prove me wrong."

For a moment...Eddie genuinely thought Jason might do it. Might shove you. Might yell. Might finally snap.

Instead, Jason looked around. He couldn't touch you, not here. Not with everyone looking.

Jason just clicked his tongue. "Whatever."

He shot Eddie one last glare. "You're not worth it."

Then to you, "Careful who you stick up for."

You smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jason scoffed before turning on his heel. "C'mon."

Andy and Chance followed without another word.

Eddie realized he'd been holding his breath. "...Thanks."

You turned toward him. For a second, he thought you might say something profound. Something unforgettable.

Instead, you smiled; that warm, easy smile he'd only ever seen from across classrooms.

"Don't mention it." You adjusted your backpack. "See you around, Eddie."

Eddie? Not ‘Munson’? He thought. 

Then you just…walked away. Like standing up to Jason Carver was no bigger a deal than holding the door open for someone. Eddie watched until you disappeared around the corner.

He didn't realize Gareth had come back until someone elbowed his ribs. "Dude."

"Hm?"

"You okay?"

Eddie kept staring at the empty hallway. "...yeah."

A year later...Eddie could still tell you exactly where you'd been standing. Exactly what you were wearing. Exactly how your hand had looked when you shoved Andy away from him.

He'd spent three hundred and sixty-five days trying to convince himself it hadn't meant anything. That you would've done it for anybody. It was probably true. But God knows that didn’t help slow his crush on you down in the slightest. 

There was a reason Eddie loved the Hawkins Fall Flea Market. Sure, half the vendors were selling ceramic geese in tiny bonnets or dusty kitchenware that should've been thrown out sometime during the Nixon administration.

But every now and then...Someone's grandfather died, and suddenly there'd be a box full of first-edition fantasy novels.

Or vintage dice. Or a stack of Dragon magazines someone didn't realize were worth something. Treasure hunting. That's what Wayne always called it.

"You never know what you're gonna find."

Eddie had been elbow-deep in a cardboard box labeled COMIC BOOKS - 25¢ for nearly twenty minutes before giving up his search for anything remotely Dungeons & Dragons related.

No dice…literally.

With a dramatic sigh, he wandered farther down the rows of tents, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he smiled to himself. It wasn't exactly exciting, but it was comfortable.

He almost walked right past the record stand.

It was tucked between a vendor selling antique fishing lures and another covered in old comic strips and movie posters. Milk crates overflowed with vinyl records while wire racks displayed cassettes in crooked little rows.

Naturally...Eddie wandered over. His fingers skimmed over faded album covers. Thin Lizzy. Rush. Van Halen. Not bad. Then—

"...No way."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but there you were. Standing on the opposite side of the rack, your brows pinched together in concentration as you thumbed through a crate marked HEAVY METAL.

You wore an oversized forest-green sweater with the sleeves pushed over your hands, faded jeans, and beat-up Converse he'd never seen you wear to school. Your hair was tucked behind one ear as you carefully flipped through albums like you actually knew what you were looking at.

There was no universe in which this made sense. You belonged in the classical section. Or maybe folk, something acoustic. Not Iron Maiden. Motörhead. Judas Priest.

He blinked hard, almost thinking he was staring at a mirage. Nope, still there.

You looked up and caught him staring again. A smile spread across your face almost instantly.

"Oh." You laughed softly. "Hi, Eddie."

His mouth opened, but nothing happened.

"You... um..." Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. "You like... music?"

God, just bury him now.

Your smile only widened. "I dabble."

"I just..." He gestured helplessly toward the crate. "I wasn't expecting..."

"Me?"

He nodded.

"I wasn't expecting me either." You grinned to yourself before looking back down at the albums. "My dad's the reason."

"You've got a metalhead dad?"

"The biggest."

You laughed. "He swears everything made after 1984 is garbage."

"Smart man."

"I told him you'd probably say that."

Eddie's head snapped up. "...You've talked about me?"

The words escaped before he could stop them.

You looked equally surprised. "I..."

A tiny laugh escaped you. "I mean..."

You ducked your head for a second. "You know... around school."

Right, of course. Don't be stupid, Munson. The thought that your family even knew his name made something warm bloom in his chest.

You continued sorting through the cassette, then suddenly stopped.

"Oh."

Your fingers landed on one. Without hesitating, you slid it free from the rack and held it toward him. "I think you'd like this."

He looked down. Mercyful Fate.

Eddie stared at the cassette, then back at you. "You know Mercyful Fate?"

"I know enough." You shrugged. "My dad played this one so much I practically know it by heart."

Eddie took it carefully, almost afraid it'd disappear if he moved too fast. "You've heard this?"

"'Come to the Sabbath' used to scare me when I was little."

He barked out a laugh. "You've gotta be kidding."

"Nope."

"You don't exactly scream..." He motioned vaguely toward you. "...Mercyful Fate."

"And you don't exactly scream honor roll."

He blinked. "...Fair."

You smiled victoriously before turning back to the rack. After another moment of searching, your face brightened. "There it is."

You pulled out your own cassette. The Cure: Disintegration.

"See?" You held it up proudly. "I have range."

Eddie laughed. "I'll allow it."

"I appreciate your approval."

The older vendor wandered over. "You kids find everything?"

You nodded. "I think so."

As the man rang up your cassette, Eddie was still standing there holding the Mercyful Fate tape in both hands like you'd just gifted him the Holy Grail.

You paid, tucked the cassette into your canvas tote bag, and looked back at him. "I'll see you Monday?"

He swallowed. "...Yeah."

"Don't wait too long to listen to that." You pointed toward the cassette still in his hands. "I'd like to know what you think."

Before he could ask exactly how you planned to do that...you were already walking away.

You lifted a hand over your shoulder. "Bye, Eddie."

He watched until the crowd swallowed you whole. Only then did he glance back down at the cassette.

"You gonna buy it?"

The vendor's voice startled him. "Huh?"

"You've been holding it for five minutes."

"Oh."

Eddie looked down at the cracked plastic case, then toward the direction you'd disappeared. "...Yeah."

He smiled to himself. "I think I have to."

The cassette wasn't rare. He'd seen three copies of the same album over the last month. It wasn't even his favorite Mercyful Fate record. But this one? This one had your fingerprints on it.

By Wednesday, Eddie had listened to the Mercyful Fate cassette four times. Not because it had suddenly become his favorite album, it hadn't.

But every time King Diamond's voice crackled through the speakers of the van's cassette player, Eddie could picture your smile across that flea market record stand.

"I think you'd like this."

Wayne noticed by Tuesday night. "Ain't this the same tape you played yesterday?"

"...Maybe."

"You finally wear out your Sabbath tapes?"

"...No."

Wayne glanced over the rim of his newspaper. "...Girl?"

Eddie nearly combusted on the spot from how red his face was.

The cafeteria buzzed louder than usual as homecoming week had officially taken hold at Hawkins High. Construction paper streamers hung lopsided from the ceiling.

The student council had somehow convinced the administration to decorate every available surface in orange and green, making the cafeteria look like it had exploded.

Eddie hated it. He hated pep rallies, football, and he especially hated homecoming. And he especially especially hated listening to Jason Carver talk about the "spirit of Hawkins."

"So," Gareth said through a mouthful of fries, "we skipping the pep rally?"

"We're legally obligated to."

Jeff nodded solemnly. "It's in the Hellfire constitution."

Mike frowned. "We have a constitution?"

"We do now."

Laughter bounced around the table. Then Dustin elbowed Eddie. "Dude."

"What?"

"Twelve o'clock."

Eddie looked up. You moved from table to table carrying a thick envelope and a clipboard tucked against your chest. Homecoming tickets, of course.

You stopped at the basketball table first. Jason smiled, and you smiled back politely. Professional and nothing more. Then the band kids. Then the theater kids. Then—

Hellfire...and Eddie's heart immediately forgot how to function.

"Hi, guys."

You smiled at the whole table before your eyes landed on him.

"Hi, Eddie."

God. You always said his name like it belonged in your mouth.

"Uh... hey."

"So," you said, setting the envelope on the table. "I'm making my rounds."

You held up two small orange tickets. "Homecoming tickets. Five dollars."

Jeff snorted, Mike looked horrified, while Gareth dramatically searched his empty pockets.

"We're allergic."

"I figured."

Then you looked back at Eddie. "Oh."

Your smile softened. "Did you ever listen to the cassette?"

His brain completely abandoned him. "...Yeah."

"And?"

"It was..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Really good."

"'Really good?'" You looked mock offended. "I thought it'd at least earn a 'life-changing.'"

"I was trying not to sound insane."

"So you liked it?"

"I—" He smiled before he could stop himself. "...Yeah. A lot, actually."

"I knew you would."

Something warm settled in his chest. You knew. Not hoped, not guessed, knew.

Which is why, when he said, without thinking, "I'll take two."

Silence, which even made Eddie freeze. What?

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. "...Two?"

He stared at the tickets. Abort mission. Abort mission. FUCK! Too late.

"Uh..." His hand was already digging into his pocket. "Yeah."

He slapped a crumpled ten-dollar bill onto the table before his brain had the chance to intervene. "I'll take two."

You looked at him for a second longer than necessary, then the smallest smile tugged at your lips. Then, you handed him the two orange tickets. 

"Our music committee isn't nearly as good as Mercyful Fate."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I'll see you around?"

"...Yeah."

You gave the table one last smile. "Have a good lunch, guys."

Then, you disappeared toward the next group of students, and the second you were out of earshot...

Five heads slowly turned toward Eddie.

"...What the hell was that?" Dustin snaps.

"What?"

"You hate homecoming."

"I don't hate—"

"You called it," Gareth interrupted, "'capitalist propaganda with crepe paper.'"

"I stand by that."

Jeff leaned across the table. "So why," he asked carefully, "did you just buy..."

He held up two fingers. "...two tickets?"

Eddie blinked. "...Did I?"

"You were there." Mike snorted. "I'm pretty sure you even paid for them."

Eddie looked down at the tickets in his hand as though they'd magically appeared there.

"...Huh."

Gareth burst into laughter. "'Huh?'"

"'Huh?!'"

"You bought two!"

"I know!"

"Do you?!"

Dustin reached across the table and plucked one from Eddie's fingers.

"'Homecoming Admission.'"

He looked around dramatically. "Guys. I think Eddie the Banished has suffered a traumatic brain injury."

Jeff nodded. "Only explanation."

"You've spent three years talking about how dances are government mind control."

"They are."

"So, who are you taking?"

Eddie opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because...he hadn't thought that far. He hadn't thought at all. He'd just wanted another excuse or another thirty seconds of hearing your voice.

"...Nobody."

Five skeptical expressions. "Nnnoooobody?" Gareth echoed.

"Nope."

"So you just bought two tickets..."

"Yep."

"...For fun?"

"...Sure."

Mike deadpanned, "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."

Dustin slowly smiled. "Oh."

"Oh no," Eddie muttered.

"Oh, no."

Dustin pointed across the cafeteria, where you were still making your rounds. "You bought two tickets because you're gonna ask her."

Eddie nearly choked on his Coke. "I am absolutely not."

"You absolutely are."

"I absolutely am not."

Jeff grinned. "Dude."

"You've been listening to that cassette all week."

"You don't know that."

"Wayne told my mom."

Eddie's head whipped toward him. "...Wayne, what?"

"My mom was at the trailer dropping off your uncle's casserole dish."

Jeff shrugged innocently. "He said—and I quote—'Boy's been playing the same damn tape for three days. Must be love.'"

The entire table erupted while Dustin pointed triumphantly. "Called it."

Eddie dropped his forehead onto the cafeteria table with a groan.

By the time Hellfire finished packing up their campaign books in the theater room, basketball practice had just let out. Which meant letterman jackets, inflated egos, and Jason Carver. Perfect.

Eddie spotted them before they spotted him, or so he thought.

"You boys have another séance today?"

Gareth groaned.

"Just keep walking."

That had been the plan. Until Tommy H stuck his foot out, and Gareth caught it too late.

His books were scattered across the pavement, dice bouncing in every direction. One tiny d20 rolled nearly twenty feet before coming to rest beneath a parked truck.

"Oh, my bad," Tommy said without sounding sorry in the slightest.

Gareth muttered a curse beneath his breath as he knelt to gather his things.

Eddie was already moving. "The hell's your problem?"

Jason shrugged. "Gravity."

"You tripped him," Eddie says, pointing between Jason and Tommy. 

"I don't know, Munson." Tommy grinned. "Looked pretty clumsy to me."

Jeff and Dustin immediately stepped toward Gareth, helping gather his books. Eddie stood between them and Jason.

"C’mon, man. At least pick on someone with a fighting chance."

Jason smiled as he chimed in. "I am."

The shove came so fast that Eddie barely had time to react, his shoulder slamming into the side of a parked car. The metal echoed.

"Jesus, fuck—" Eddie shoved him back, causing Jason's smile to disappear.

"Oh. There he is."

The first punch caught Eddie across the jaw, causing white to explode across his vision. He stumbled back, so Andy grabbed his jacket from behind. Then, Tommy landed one on his ribs. Someone else kicked the back of his knee.

Three against one, again. He heard Dustin yelling, Jeff trying to pull somebody off, and Gareth shouting Eddie's name.

"...Enough!"

Everything stopped as a familiar voice cut through the chaos like a knife.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Eddie blinked through blurry vision and saw you.

You were marching across the parking lot faster than he'd ever seen anyone move as your backpack swung wildly against your side.

Jason scoffed. "Stay out of it."

"No."

You shoved Andy away from Eddie so hard that he stumbled backward. "I said that’s enough."

Tommy laughed. "Oh, here comes Wonder Woman."

You ignored him completely. Instead, you crouched beside Eddie. "Are you okay?"

He tried to answer, but instead, blood dripped onto his shirt. Your face tightened as you looked back up to analyze the scene: three basketball players, one bleeding boy, and his friend's reactions somewhere between horror and panic. 

"You should be proud of yourselves."

Jason rolled his eyes. "He was acting insane. He pushed me for Christ's sake."

"That's bullshit."

Jason took a step closer. "What do you care?"

"I care because you three are acting like a bunch of fucking neanderthals. And for what? What the hell did he ever do to you?"

He laughed. "You really gonna defend this freak?"

You stood slowly until you were eye level with him. "I'm defending someone who can't fight three people at once."

Jason clicked his tongue. "You're wasting your time."

"No." You shook your head.

"You know..." You looked Jason up and down. "For someone who talks so much about honor..."

Your eyes drifted toward the gym. "...you sure need a lot of teammates when you throw a punch."

Jason's jaw clenched. "You should go."

"You first."

You kept your gaze fixed on Jason, putting on the best ‘don’t fuck with me today’ face you could muster.

His eyes dart between you and Eddie, a small and almost sinister grin forming. Then, he scoffed.

"C'mon. This freak show isn’t worth our spots in Friday's game.”

The last of the basketball team disappeared across the parking lot. Jason threw one final glare over his shoulder before climbing into Tommy's truck.

"...Jesus Christ." Your voice was barely above a whisper. Eddie looked up just in time to see you drop to your knees again beside him.

Your eyes darted over his face: the split lip, the scrape across his cheek, the beginnings of a bruise blooming beneath his eye.

"Dustin!" you called over your shoulder. "Go to the nurse's office!"

Dustin looked between you and Eddie before immediately taking off toward the school. "I'll get an ice pack!"

You nodded once before turning your attention back to Eddie. "Can you sit up?"

He managed a small nod even though every rib protested. You slipped an arm beneath his shoulder, helping him lean back against the brick wall of the school.

"So much for keeping your pretty face."

Eddie let out a weak laugh. "...Didn't know I had one."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up."

Your backpack slid into your lap, frowning as you rifled through its contents. "No..." You dug deeper. "No..."

"Ah! There."

You pulled out an old black T-shirt, faded nearly gray with age. Eddie recognized the logo immediately: Iron Maiden, The Number of the Beast tour.

He blinked. "You just carry band shirts around for fun?"

"My dad leaves them in my car." You shrugged, "Guess they make good makeshift paper towels."

You hesitated. "Can I?"

He nodded before he even knew what you were asking. You folded the shirt into a small square before gently dabbing at the blood on the corner of his mouth; your touch was impossibly careful.

With your face inches from his, he’s embarrassed about how many times he imagined being this close more times than he cares to admit.

"You know..." You sighed, "...That was really stupid."

"Hm?"

"What were you thinking?" You wiped another streak of blood from his cheek. "There were three of them."

"They were picking on Gareth."

"I know."

"So..."

"So you decided to get yourself killed?"

"I wasn't gonna let them jump him."

"I know." You say with an exaggerated sigh.

You make another careful swipe of the shirt across his lip, "You don't always have to be the one who saves everybody."

He watched you instead of answering. Your brows were pulled together, bottom lip tucked between your teeth in concentration.

"Eddie?"

He hadn't realized he'd been staring. "What?"

"You okay? You keep looking at me and, like, zoning out. Do you feel dizzy?"

"Oh." His voice came out embarrassingly quiet, "Uh, no. Sorry."

"Oh." You reply, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.

“Huh?” He swallowed.

His brain screamed at him to say literally anything else. Comment on the weather. Ask about homework.

"I think I really like you."

You froze mid-wipe of his cheek, eyes quickly meeting his. 

Eddie groaned and closed his eyes. "Fuck—Forget I said that."

"Oh."

Fantastic. She sounds uncomfortable. Wonderful.

"I didn't mean—"

"No." Your hand gently caught his wrist before he could keep spiraling, "I just..."

He opened his eyes, and to his delight, you were smiling.

"I've been wondering how long that was going to take."

His eyebrows knit together. "...What?"

"I was starting to think you were never going to say it."

"...Say what?"

"That."

You laughed quietly. "I've liked you for over a year, Eddie."

His brain stopped. "No, you don't."

"I do."

"You can't."

"I can."

"You..." He searched your face for the joke, "You've liked me?"

"Since you helped that freshman find the theater room on the first day of school last year."

"...That's why?"

"You spent fifteen minutes walking him around the building."

"He looked lost."

"I know." You smiled, "That's kind of my point."

He stared, then laughed, a disbelieving and breathless laugh.

"I've spent an entire year convincing myself you were completely out of my league."

"I've spent an entire year waiting for you to realize I wasn't.”

His heart nearly flew out of his chest just then.

"But then..." You shrugged, looking almost sheepish. "You bought the second homecoming ticket, so I just assumed you found someone else to ask."

"...WHAT?"

The word exploded out of him so loudly that a flock of birds scattered from the nearby trees.

You blinked. "What?"

"No!" He sat up a little too fast before immediately grabbing his ribs. "Ow—Jesus Christ."

"Eddie! Jesus, would you calm d—"

"No, no, listen." He pointed emphatically toward the school. "I bought the second ticket because you were standing there."

"...I know."

"No, I mean—" He groaned. "I wasn't thinking."

"I've noticed."

"I just wanted an excuse to keep talking to you."

You stared.

"So my brain went..." He mimed throwing something across the parking lot. "'Buy two tickets.' But uh, I didn't have a plan after that."

A laugh bubbled out of you. "So..."

He continued, growing increasingly animated. "...then Gareth asks, 'Who're you taking?'"

"And?"

"And I realized..." He buried his face in his hands. "...I had absolutely no idea what I was doing."

Your shoulders started shaking. "Oh my God..."

"I panicked."

"I can tell."

"I said I bought them for fun."

"You told them..." you managed between laughs, "'for fun?'"

"I know!"

"That's the worst lie I've ever heard."

"I KNOW."

"They believed you?"

"They absolutely did not."

You laughed even harder, and he found himself laughing, too.

"I have spent," he said through a grin, "the last four days wondering who the hell I was supposed to ask because apparently I'd already committed."

Your laughter slowly faded into something softer.

"So..." You looked at him carefully. "...Who were you planning on asking?"

He gave you the most incredulous look. "You."

"Really?"

"You literally just admitted you thought I found somebody else."

"I know, but..." You smiled. "I wanted to hear you say it."

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "You're evil."

"A little."

"You've been letting me suffer this whole time?"

"I thought it was kind of cute."

"Oh, that's cruel."

"It was a little cruel." You say, shrugging.

He smiles the biggest smile he can muster, considering the pain shooting through what feels like every inch of his body, and releases a deep sigh. 

"So..."

"So?"

He reached into the pocket of his denim vest, wincing as his bruised ribs protested.

After a second of fumbling, he pulled out the slightly crumpled orange homecoming ticket, holding it out between two fingers.

"I know this isn't exactly the most romantic timing."

You looked down at the ticket, then back up at him.

"But..." His smile turned nervous, "...would you maybe wanna go to homecoming with me?"

You could’ve just verbally said yes, but fuck that.

You broke the final inches of distance between you, your lips meeting his. He kissed you back instinctively, one hand finding your waist, smiling into the kiss. You smiled too.

"Hss—" Eddie jerked back with a sharp wince, immediately bringing a hand to his mouth.

"Oh, my God!" Your eyes went wide. "Shit! I'm so sorry!"

"No, no—" He laughed despite himself, carefully pressing two fingers against his split lip. "I just forgot I got punched."

"You idiot."

"Yeah..." A grin spread across his face, "...Worth it."

You rolled your eyes, but he caught the smile tugging at your lips.

"This time," you murmured, leaning closer again, "try not to throw yourself into it like you're storming a castle."

"I make no promises."

"I know." You cupped his cheek, much gentler now. "So let me."

This kiss was much slower; you barely brushed your lips against his at first. He practically pulled you into his airspace, completely ignoring any stinging sensation because, hell, he’d thought about this at least a thousand times. 

Afterward, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

"I've wanted to do that," he admitted softly, "for... probably an embarrassing amount of time."

You laughed. "Me too."

He looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face. "So..."

"So?"

"Does this mean you'll go to homecoming with me?"

You pretended to think about it. "Hmm..."

"Don't do this to me."

"I suppose."

He let out the most dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank God."

Before you could tease him for it, he was kissing you again. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jaw as he smiled into it, and you smiled back.

Then you felt the subtle tension in his hand. The way his fingers tightened ever so slightly against your skin. The sharp inhale he tried, and failed, to hide.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. "You're hurting."

"I'm surviving."

"Eddie."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He grinned, lopsided because of his split lip. "I've imagined kissing you about a thousand times."

You laughed softly.

"And not once did Jason Carver punch me beforehand."

You rolled your eyes, your thumb carefully brushing beneath the bruise blooming under his eye.

"You are unbelievable."

"I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have."

His forehead rested against yours, his smile refusing to leave. "I don't think anything could ruin today."

"...Ahem."

The two of you froze and slowly turned your heads.

Dustin stood a few yards away, an ice pack dangling from one hand. He looked from Eddie to you, then to the fact that you were still sitting impossibly close together, practically entangled. 

A slow, knowing grin spread across his face. 

"...I guess you don't need that ice pack then?"

missed u guys sm:,) more coming soon, pinky promise <3

taglist:

@bonnieprincess @kylorensbaby @rebelfell @djotummy

@bitterestwillow @lnnn1n @youngbrokefab @ludachrissy @sisteramycatherine @izzycstairs @britttzy267 @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @sariahs-stuff @cciessuzi @lilyquinnmunson @julxsxx @kozume-ko @obsessed-eddie @doomdabss @leelei1980 @hexqueensupreme @ches-86 @plaidamoosette @bobiverses @meadows-of-asphodel @whitakerstorm @brrrainst3w @serendipdipity01 @hypersexytoptobottom @m-art000 @walleloveseve @camsmunson101 @flavorfullsteve @peachpuffs25 @micheledawn1975 @whitakerstorm @cciessuzi @blackqueenie-18 @ggdawgg @velvetdimond @enne02  @ludachrissy @izzycstairs

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@lilyquinnmunson @this-issam @acrloved @foxygrll @gem-writes @m-art000 @kylorensbaby @oatmilkriver 

[eddiesecstasy]

the level of detail that was put into Eddie’s room is just painful. what do you mean so much care and effort was put into creating this character that was just going to be killed off?

brb, these new Eddie pics just have me in pain

[comfortwriting]

but I don't want to go home - eddie munson x fem!reader

masterlist, navigation, request rules

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (established relationship)

summary: when you try to avoid going home after spending another night at Eddie's, he becomes worried about what's going on in your home.

warnings: mentions of child neglect, deadbeat dads, emotional instability, reference to Paige but she isn't named.

word count: 3.4k

“You’re doing it again,” Eddie hummed, holding your hands in his, the two of you feet away from the front of his bedroom door.

You were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago, Eddie had to get ready to leave for work and it wasn’t part of the agreement for you to spend another night. Sure, neither Eddie or Wayne would mind, and your dad never seemed to or care where you were if he even paid enough attention to know, but your relationship with Eddie was still in the early days, six weeks in, still fresh.

“C’mon babe, I’ve gotta get ready for work, you know I can’t speed with the Chief watching round here.”

“Can’t I just stay one more night?” You asked, slightly shy.

“And have you wait around all night in my room for me to finish work when you should be wrapped up in your own bed and fast asleep?” He raised his eyebrows, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “Nah, that doesn’t sound fair for you. Next time, sweetheart.”

But I don’t want to go home.

You frowned but didn’t argue against him, you had already left your toothbrush at his place last week after you managed to convince him to let you stay another night, and now you kept it beside his, reassuring him that it’s the one you’ll always use when you sleepover. 

“Okay, promise?” You asked, slowly dragging your feet on the carpet out of his room.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise.” Eddie pulled his door shut and followed you out of his trailer, Wayne was passed out on the couch so the two of you kept it down until you climbed in his van.

Eddie noticed that the closer and closer you got to your home, the quieter you became and your smile faded,pressing the side of your head into the window, watching other cars drive past before Eddie eventually turned right and drove down your street, stopping his van outside your home. 

“Is everything… are you okay?” He asked, his doe eyes watching you carefully. 

Being this clingy will scare him off, we haven’t been together that long. 

Don’t tell him, not yet.

You cleared your throat and blinked, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” you lied, “probably a good call you dropped me off.”

Eddie hesitated for a moment, “you sure?” he watched as you slowly unclipped your seatbelt and picked up your bag by your feet.

You nodded, “Mhm,” you opened the van door and got out, “you’ll call me tomorrow when you're awake, right?”

Eddie smiled, “You know I will.”

You gave a small back and waved before shutting the van door and walking towards the front door of your home, already dreading walking in and being without Eddie for another week. 

Eddie always waited until you were inside before he drove off but something didn’t feel right tonight but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes focusing on the road as he went back, his eyes quickly glancing through his rear mirror to take another look at your house. 

Eddie returned to the trailer to brush his teeth and get dressed, his eyes glued to your toothbrush. 

“You workin tonight, Edward?” Wayne asked, walking over toward his nephew with a cigarette between his teeth. 

Eddie spat his toothpaste and saliva mix into the sink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Yeah, won’t be home ‘til late, you know how it is,” he replied, rinsing his toothbrush before placing it next to yours.

Wayne nodded and took a drag, “Your girlfriend, she’s a good one, Edward.” he turned around, shuffling over to the couch.

“Wayne?” Eddie called out, following him, “Can I ask you something?”

Wayne blew the smoke from his mouth and fell onto the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, “She’s not pregnant is she?”

Eddie smirked for a moment, laughing lightly but quickly shook his head with a sigh, “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…” He walked over and sat next to his uncle, knowing he’d be late for work. “She never, uh, wants to go home. She always stalls me and begs to stay another night.”

"What's so bad about that, kid? Sounds like she really likes you,” Wayne muttered, continuing to smoke, the ashtray resting on his stomach. 

“There’s nothing bad about it at all, I guess I’m not used to it, you know, having a clingy girlfriend.” Eddie held his hand out to Wayne, his signal to borrow a cigarette. 

“Clingy isn’t a bad thing,” Wayne passed him the cigarette, “beats having a girlfriend who ditches you after promising a record label or whatever that mess was.” 

Eddie lit the cigarette and placed it in his mouth, taking a drag and letting out a thick cloud of smoke, “I’d rather have clingy any day over that but.. Something just feels off, you know? I’m kinda worried about her.”

Wayne rubbed his back into the cushions and fabric of the couch, getting himself comfortable for another nap. “Have you talked to her about it?” 

Eddie shook his head. 

“Well I’d suggest you get talkin’ to her,” Wayne crushed his short cigarette in the ashtray and shut his eyes, “think it over during your shift.”

The moment you walked through the door, the heavy weight on your shoulders and the grey cloud above you returned, you kicked your shoes off and focused on making a swift escape upstairs.

“When did you leave the house?” Your dad called out, his eyes fixed to the TV, “Did you get any beer from the store?”

Typical. 

“I didn’t go to the store, dad. I was at my boyfriends, remember?”

You wish you could remember a time when your dad remembered you, even acknowledged you with his two eyes and a warm hug, but the truth was you couldn’t. Your dad was emotionally unavailable, and part of you at times was sure that he didn’t even know who you were. 

When your parents divorced, you weren’t given the option to choose who you lived with, and living with your mom wasn’t an option you were given after she was deemed too emotionally unstable to be left responsible for a child. 

It started off with being late for school, not because you ran late for the bus or because your alarm clock didn’t go off, but because your dad would be so hungover, sprawled across the couch or bed, too out of it to wake up and get you ready. 

Then when you did make it to school and managed to get yourself home, you weren’t being fed. He’d whack a meal in the microwave to eat himself, but you were left to take care of you.

It had always been this way, you forced yourself to just get used to it.

He still didn’t look at you, “Boyfriend? Since when did you have a boyfriend?” his eyes were still on the football.

You huffed quietly, careful so that he couldn’t hear you. 

“Eddie. The guy I’ve been dating for over a month now, I’ve told you about him, I’m at his place every week.” 

Eddie felt like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, he remembered the little things about you and went out of his way to indulge in your preferences, like which side of the bed you felt safer and comfier sleeping on, or exactly how you liked your coffee, all within such a short time.

Your dads eyebrows knitted slightly and he hummed, sipping the last of his beer, “I didn’t even notice you were gone.”

No, you never do.

You went on to walk up the stairs when he called out to you again, “Hey, do me a favour, later on can you go through that big fabric pouch and pull out whatever change you can and get me some beers? Need them for the game.”

You glanced down at your wrist watch “Can’t dad, it’s getting late.” 

Get your own fucking beer.

“Fucking useless.” He grumbled, tossing his empty can across the room, still in the same dirty, stained shirt from before you left to see Eddie. 

You wanted to sleep but you couldn’t. Your thoughts about Eddie consumed you and your paranoia over being too much or too clingy began to eat away at you. 

He didn’t want me to stay an extra night, was I coming off too strong?! 

It’s not like I stalk him or anything, I just wish I could tell him, maybe he’d understand… his dad isn’t around either.

You tried to tell Eddie about your dad and how he treated you since he got custody but you never found the right moment, something would always come up or get in the way. Either Eddie would unintentionally start getting excited over a new album release, unable to control his outbursts of high expectations for certain tracks and tours, or Wayne would peek his head through Eddie’s door, getting to know you a little better or trying to embarrass his nephew.

The phone on your bedside table woke you up, you didn’t remember falling asleep but it didn’t matter. Eddie said he’d call you, and you’d never risk missing an opportunity to hear his voice, no matter how sleepy either of you were. 

“Hello?” you answered, holding back a yawn. 

“Hey babe, it’s me,” Eddie smiled on the other end, sounding just as tired as you were. 

You pressed the phone a little closer to your ear, gripping it protectively, “How was work? I’ve missed you.”

Eddie dampened his lips with his tongue, he stayed quiet for a moment before finally sighing down the phone, “Ah, you know how it is. Same drunken assholes starting fights, finishing later than usual with no overtime pay…” he paused for a moment, “I was wondering, are you available later? I was thinking we could go for a drive, maybe pick up some greasy food and just chill for a bit.” 

Eddie didn’t sound cheerful but you didn’t think anything of it, you assumed he was just tired from his shift.

Your ears pricked up and the relief of being able to escape these four walls and the roof ran through your system, waking you up. 

“Oh Eds, I’d love to!” you smiled down the phone, “What time were you thinking?”

“Well, I kinda haven't figured that out yet,” He paused again and you didn’t like it, he didn’t pause like this on the phone “was thinking like half an hour after I’ve woken up? Gives me enough time to have a shower and a quick smoke.” 

I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?

I’ve been too clingy.

Cancel on him, make it seem like you aren’t desperate to get out of the house. 

Don’t cancel! Are you kidding? You’ll rot away in your room all day! 

Just play it cool. Take it easy.

“Sure,” you replied, trying to tone down your excitement, allowing your intrusive thoughts to drown you, “will you call ahead of time or?”

“What’s better for you, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart. See? He can’t be mad at me.

You weighed up the options for a moment and realised either would be fine, your dad wouldn’t care or notice anyway. 

“Hmmm, call me beforehand? Just so I know when you’re about to leave.” 

“Alright, you sound almost as tired as I do, get some sleep and I’ll call you when I’m coming, got it?” Eddie yawned down the phone, rubbing his eyes.

You nodded, sinking back into your bed, “Got it.”

By the time Eddie woke up and began to get himself dressed, a thought drifted into his head that he couldn’t shake, a reality he hadn’t considered before; what if you weren’t safe or happy at home?

It made perfect sense, you always changed the moment it was time to leave, stalling him with your shoe laces or peppering him with kisses when you weren’t looking for something that was secretly in the bottom of your bag. You always went quiet and seemed queasy when he’d pull up outside your house when dropping you off. 

You weren’t being clingy. 

Things weren’t good at home. 

You felt safe with him.

Eddie hurried outside, catching his uncle sitting in the afternoon sun, putting his carton of cigarettes in his pocket before he left for his shift at the plant. 

“Wayne, do you have a sec?” He asked, “I did some thinking, like you said.” 

Wayne raised an eyebrow, “What is it?”

Eddie took a deep breath and sighed, shrugging, “I don’t think she’s happy or safe at home, going back there… it makes her shrink into herself, I recognise that now.”

Wayne thought for a moment, wiping the building sweat from his brow, “I know you’ve not been together long and all but if this is the case and you really love her, she can always stay with us. She might hate it once she gets used to it, but I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to add more on to your plate-”

“I took you in, didn’t I?” Wayne approached Eddie, placing his hand on his shoulder. 

Eddie rarely thought about his dad, doing so usually came in phases on Fathers Day, at Christmas and on Birthdays, but Wayne managed to take the edge off in the beginning, and as time went on, the pain seemed to dissipate for Eddie. Sure, his dad was a deadbeat, but he had an uncle that loved and care about him; Wayne made up for his dads shortfalls. 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, his heart hurting from the thought of his dad and missing his mom. 

“If her moving in would be good for her and will keep you happy, then it’s no issue for me.” Wayne tapped Eddie on the shoulder and walked away, not wanting to be late for his shift.

Eddie didn’t need to think about you moving in for a moment longer. It wasn’t a risk. 

“Fuck,” Eddie sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, “I gotta buy a better bed.”

You managed to get some extra sleep once you were reassured that Eddie wasn’t mad and woke up an hour before he called, giving you enough time to get yourself freshened up. After Eddie called, you slowly slipped downstairs, the smell of mouldy food and grease making you gag as you reached the bottom step. 

Your dad was in the same spot as he was yesterday, the TV on but replaced by MTV now that the football game was long gone. More beer cans were dented and scattered across the floor, your dad was nodding and humming away, not hearing you coming down the stairs. 

“Dad?” you called out. 

He didn’t hear you. 

“Dad?” You repeated, a little louder. 

Still nothing. 

You turned and walked towards the door when your dad finally leaned forward and tilted his head, catching you. “Hey,” he raised his voice, “Where are you off to?” 

“Out,” You replied, slipping on your shoes. 

“Where?” He picked up the beer next to him, swirling it for a moment before tossing it across the room in disappointment. “You know what, don’t tell me, I don’t care. Do me a favour,” he began to cough, “get me some beers, will you? The walk is too far for your poor dad.” 

Eddie’s van pulled up outside, KISS blaring from his tape deck. 

Your hand hovered over the door handle and you quickly turned around, looking at your dad in the eyes, “It’s not even a five minute walk, Dad. The fresh air will do you some good.”

Your dad began to scowl and he scrunched his mouth up into a tight ball, grumbling under his breath. Frantically, you grabbed the handle and pulled it, opening the door and slipping out without experiencing his rage. Each step closer to Eddie felt like coming to the end of a long marathon in the exhausting heat, with a table full of ice cold bottled water waiting for you.

Eddie turned the music down slightly, Paul Stanley’s voice and the instruments now faint background noise. He waited for you to climb in. 

“Afternoon, Sweetheart.” He smiled, his eyes still a little heavy, “Food?”

You didn’t bother to clip on your belt, your heart rate already steadying at being in his presence, “Food sounds wonderful.”

Yesterday you were the one who went quiet in the van, fading into the window as Eddie dropped you off, but today Eddie wasn’t his usual self. You noticed he wasn’t raving about the new music video, probably the same one your dad was humming along to and how crap it was shot, or complaining about his shift. Instead, he just kept quiet, his eyes occasionally chancing a quick glance at you.

When he pulled into the parking lot rather than going straight to the Drive Thru, you knew something wasn’t right. 

He’s brought me here to break up with me, hasn’t he?

Eddie didn’t cut the engine, he knew that no music in the background would only make things more awkward.

Eddie cleared his throat, “Babe, can we talk?”

Oh no. 

Here it is. 

He’s going to end things here, isn’t he?

“Wh,” your voice died in your throat, “What is it?” 

He sighed, shifting in his seat to face you, “Since we got together, I’ve uh, noticed more and more how you never want to go home.”

You prepared yourself for the inevitable.

He’ll tell you you’re too clingy, that you’re too much and too fast, and that he can’t be with someone so… intense.

Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, looking away for a moment before forcing himself to meet your eyes again. “Is everything okay… at home?” He finally breathed, “You’re not being… are you?”

The air left your lungs for a moment, your eyes widened from expecting the blow but you weren’t expecting this. Your lips parted and wobbled, tears filled your eyes. 

How do I tell him?

What do I even say?

“Oh baby, come here.” Eddie murmured, pulling you into him over the gear shift, his hands wrapping around you. 

You buried your face into his neck, your tears running down his skin with your hands resting on his chest. He held you, stroking your hair until you managed to wipe your eyes and pull away. 

Taking a deep breath, you looked at Eddie, engulfed with the concern in his eyes. 

“It’s my dad, he… since he got custody he’s always been so emotionally, well, just completely unavailable. He doesn’t notice when I come or go, when I was a kid he neglected me. Forgot to get me up for school, never fed me, it was… it’s as if I’m invisible to him unless I’m about to walk in and out that door,” you shook your head, “and you know all he seems to care about? His drink.”

Eddie took your hand in his and squeezed it, “You feel like you’re just wasting away in that house, don’t you?” 

You nodded, “You make me happy, Eds. You actually acknowledge me and don’t make me feel like I’m a burden. You get me out of that place, that dark pit. I love you for more than that, I mean, I’m not with you so I can get out if that's what you’re thinking.”

Eddie let out a light laugh, stroking the top of your hand with his thumb, “I know, babe, you don’t have to reassure me.” 

A temporary silence filled the van, the KISS tape that was in looping back to the start. 

“I know we’ve not been together long and people will think I’m either crazy or you’re pregnant, but..” Eddie dampened his lips again, his eyebrows pulling together, focusing on your hand and tracing circles into it, “you could move in with me and Wayne.”

The offer came out as a nervous mumble but you knew he was serious.

Your eyebrows shot up and your hand twitched in his, “Oh my god, you’re serious.” You murmured, “Are you sure?!” 

“I spoke to my uncle about it and uh, he likes you, thinks you’re a sweet girl and he took me in, you know,after  my old man failed to be a dad..” Eddie presses a kiss to your hand before running his soft lips against your skin, “So what d’you say, wanna get out of that hell hole and stay with us in our cramped trailer?”

You’ll get to be with Eddie, always.

You’ll never have to go home. 

You can be invisible to your dad without it hurting anymore, living a happier life, in a happier place.

“Oh, Eds, I want that more than anything,” you smiled up at him, your eyes full with tears of relief.

[elsfawns]

જ⁀➴ missing pilot!ellie so i made a moodboard　♡

[rebecca--barnes]

My sexuality is whatever this is