current stage of grief: denial

anna | 27 | 18+ | prepared to fight the duffle bags with a single straw and a heart full of moxie

[master-of-munson]

All Through the Night (Steve Harrington x Byers!Reader)

A/N: should I be working on the actual fic that this comes from instead of a one shot set 2 years in the future from the present (of the fic)? Yeah, but, where’s the fun in that?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Byers!Reader

Word Count: 7.9k

Summary: Y/N Byers and Steve Harrington have history, and lots of it. From being best friends in elementary and middle school, to never speaking again from 9th grade until Y/N’s baby brother goes missing… but, things change, and people change (with the help of middle schoolers and an inter dimensional slug). So, it only makes sense that Steve would ask Maggie to senior prom, right?

Warnings: mentions of body image issues, Y/N is actually an OC from a WIP but I tried my best to take out any identifying characteristics!

Hawkins, Indiana

May 1985

The sun is warm, spring humming in the air. As soon as the final bell of the day rings, seniors are buzzing with prom talk everywhere — dresses, tuxes, limos, after-parties. 

You try to ignore all of it.

Prom has never been in the cards for you. Prom is for girls with money to spend on dresses and shoes and makeup. Prom is for girls who actually have dates… so, not you. 

Never, you. 

You adjust your backpack and start toward the parking lot, hoping that Jonathan and Nancy weren’t sucking face in the car again. Bonnie was out of commission for the time being, her alternator had decided to give up, and you didn’t feel like begging Hop for a raise before turning in your notice. With the new mall opening in a few weeks, you figured you would get a more… normal job for a girl your age. 

You're halfway across the lot when you hear the familiar beep be-beep beep. 

You look up.

Steve Harrington, leaning half-out the driver’s window of his BMW, waving at you like you’ve just returned from war. 

“Y/N! Get in! I’ll give you a ride!”

You feel your stomach flip — the stupid, traitorous butterflies that have moved in permanently since last Christmas — but you force yourself to stay normal.

Totally normal.

“Steve, I do have a brother ya know,” you call back, laughing. “His car is–” you pause, looking over to the see the familiar sight of said brother crawling into the back seat with a giggling Nancy Wheeler. You were happy for Jonathan, and for Nance. They deserved to be happy, especially after the mess their lives had become since November ‘83. But, did they have to always do it in the backseat? 

“Yeah, but I’m offering a cooties free chauffeur service,” he insists, grinning widely as he pushes his ray bans up into his hair. “And it comes with excellent conversation and terrible music.”

You roll your eyes but walks over anyway.

Because it’s Steve. Because you always do.

You slide into the passenger seat, the familiar scent of pine air freshener and vanilla shampoo hitting you all at once.

“Don’t you have swimming practice?” you ask, buckling in.

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’, leaning back in his seat, the picture of comfort. “Coach canceled.”

He seems…nervous. He keeps drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

You glance at him. “You okay?”

“Yep. Totally. Completely normal. Just—uh.” He clears his throat. “Just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Those butterflies turn into a swarm.

“Oh?”you say softly. “What’s up?”

He pulls out of the parking, but instead of heading toward your house, he steers toward the lake.  The one the two of you used to bike to in middle school to escape the world. 

Y/N's heart thuds, Steve rarely wanted to “talk”.

Complain about their brood of middle schoolers? Sure, daily. Bitch about his parents? At least once a week. Bond over the newest episode of Dynasty in secret, because Steve would NEVER live it down if Dustin heard about that… absolutely. 

But, he never looked this serious, and he never looked like he was about to pass out. 

Steve parks beneath a blooming dogwood tree, kills the engine, and suddenly looks like he might pass out.

“Y/N,” he starts, leaning forward on the wheel, “so… prom.”

Your stomach drops, brain immediately going to the worst possible explanation. ‘I thought he was over her? It’s almost been a year, and he knows how happy she is with Jon–’

“Oh—Steve, if this is about Nancy—”

“No!” he blurts. Then, softer: “No. It’s not about Nancy.”

He turns toward you fully now, one arm resting along the back of your seat.

He looks so earnest. So nervous it almost hurts to watch.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that… it might be fun. Y’know. If we went.”

You stare at him, brain turning to straight static as you take in what he’s just said. ‘There is no way’

“We?” you echo. “Like… you and… me?”

He bites his lip. Nods.

“Yeah. I mean—only if you want to. I just thought… we’ve been having a lot of fun lately, and after last year being… hell… maybe we deserve something good? Something normal?”

Your mouth has gone dry. 

You opens it, but nothing comes out but a squeak.

He panics instantly.

“Oh my god, sorry, forget it,” he rushes. “You don’t have to—like, at all. I just—I don’t want you to think this is, like, a thing. Unless you want it to be a thing. But it’s not a thing! It’s just—prom. As friends. Like a… friend-date. A frate! Two best friends going to prom together. Totally normal, right?”

Y/N tries very, very hard not to melt into the seat.

He asked you to prom. Steve Harrington asked you to prom.

Your heart is screaming, of course, yes, god, yes, but what comes out is a soft:

“…you want to go with me?”

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he nods. “Yeah. I do.”

You smile — shy, startled, happy.

“I’d really like that.”

His shoulders DROP in relief.

“Yeah?! Okay! Cool! Awesome. Great. Perfect.” He clears his throat. “So… um… I’ll pick you up? In a tux? With, like, one of those flower things?”

“A corsage?” you tease.

“Yes. That.”

Silence settles — not awkward, but warm and trembling.

You looks out at the lake, cheeks pink.

He watches you instead.

And in the soft spring sunlight, you don’t notice the way he looks at you — like he’s already in love, and trying very, very hard not to realize it.

By the time the two of you reach the house, you have come to terms with the fact that the past 30 minutes haven’t been a dream. Steve asked you to prom. Steve wants to go to prom with you.

Your brain is mush, and time isn’t timing right. Maybe you were abducted by aliens, and this is an implanted memory? You've read all about them in those magazines the boys read, and false memories are a symptom. Alien abduction would make more sense than reality at this point.When you come to, you realize you’ve been sitting outside your house for almost a full minute.  'Lost time is also a symptom', you think.

Neither one wants to get out.

Your heart is still somewhere up near your throat. Steve keeps drumming on the wheel, staring at the windshield as if it owes him money.

He glances at you sideways, lips twitching.

“So uh… just so you know,” he says, “this is also my official makeup for not asking you to the Snow Ball in eighth grade.”

Your head snaps toward him.

“What?”

“Yeah!” he laughs nervously, holding up his hands. “I mean, we did our little redo thing after the Mind Flayer… stuff…  and all, but uh—real prom, actual dressing up, slow dancing, terrible spiked punch? I figure it makes up for not asking you back then.”

You blink at him. Hard.

He doesn’t notice the way you stop breathing.

He just keeps rambling.

“Which, by the way, I still feel crappy about. I should’ve asked you. I would’ve had way more fun. And I—”

Suddenly, he stops talking, his mouth snapping shut like he caught himself revealing something too real.

You whisper, almost too soft, “…you really mean that?”

His eyes flick to yours. And something warm, vulnerable, dangerous flashes there.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he says quietly. “‘Course I do.”

For a second, neither moves.

Then he clears his throat and ruins the moment in the very Steve Harrington way he always does.

“Anyway!” he says brightly, slapping the wheel. “Prom. We’ll, uh… be the coolest non-couple couple there.”

You snort. “Steve, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does in my head!”

You both laugh — breathless, nervous, trying so hard to hide the fact you both desperately want to kiss each other more than you want oxygen.

You reach for the door handle.

“See you tomorrow?”

His voice drops a little. “Yeah. Definitely.”

You step out of the car—

—and then the second the door closes, you explode into pure giddy energy, running toward the house with your hands covering your mouth to muffle the squeal.

Steve watches you go through the windshield, smiling like he just won the lottery.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joyce is on the couch folding laundry, looking exhausted, worn, normal in that way that you love.

She looks up when you burst in.

And for the first time in years— Not since Josie and the Pussycat pajamas  and sticky toddler curls— Joyce hears her daughter giggle.

Full-body, youthful, unguarded joy.

Joyce drops the dishtowel she’d been folding, brows furrowed. 

“….Y/N?”

You're pacing the room, hands in your hair, trying not to scream.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “Oh my god. Mom.”

Joyce stands slowly, heart in her throat. “Y/N. Honey. What is it? What happened? Are you okay?”

You finally spin around, cheeks flushed bright pink.

“He asked me to prom.”

Joyce’s eyebrows shoot up, heart returning to a normal rhythm. The small smile that makes its way across her tired face says it all, that she knows immediately who you are talking about.  

“…Steve?”

You scream-whisper back, eyes wide with every possible emotion the human body could produce. “YES.”

Joyce claps a hand over her mouth, eyes welling with tears — because you are happy. Not surviving. Not bracing. Not carrying the weight of the world.

Just… happy.

“Oh, sweet girl…” she murmurs, coming over and pulling you into her arms. “You… that is so wonderful!.”

Y/N bends low and hides your face in Joyce’s shoulder, the same way you did when you were little and would ask her to check the drain for clowns. 

“Mom, what am I gonna do? It’s just as friends, but also maybe not as friends, and he said something about eighth grade and the Snow Ball and I think— I think I’m dying.” Your words come out in a flurry, excitement and nerves evident. 

Joyce laughs into her hair.

“You’re in love,” she says softly. “That’s all.”

You freeze. 

That word… that feeling… you'd done everything in your power to avoid it since December, since Steve showed up at your door with a boom box and the words “Snow Ball redo” on his lips. But today, with the way Steve had looked at you, and the way your body had melted into the leather seats of his car with the utterance of the word ‘prom’... 

You couldn’t really deny it anymore, at least not to yourself… or your mom. 

“…yeah. I think I might be.”

Joyce tightens her hug. It is warm, gentle, and absolutely overflowing with relief. Because this — THIS — is the daughter she missed. The one with hope.

“I’m so happy for you, baby,” Joyce murmurs. “I’m so, so happy.”

Your smile widens, because it hasn’t left your face since you exited Steve’s car, and you say something you didn’t think yourself capable of saying anymore. “Me too mom. I’m happy too.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The little store in downtown Hawkins smells like perfume, steam, and the faint scent of Bonnie continuing to rust in the front yard. There was no way you were leaving here without spending all of the money you’d saved to repair your precious bug. 

Nancy is already rifling through the prom racks like a seasoned pro. Max is sitting in a rolling chair, kicking herself back and forth, humming ABBA and complaining loudly about being there, even though she insisted on coming.

You, meanwhile, stand near the doorway.

Frozen.

Hands in your jacket pockets. Anxious. Already doing mental math about how many hours of overtime you would need to beg Hop for just to afford half a prom dress.

Nancy looks up.

“Y/N? You coming?”

You force a smile.

“I… yeah, just—uh—looking.”

Max rolls her chair over, sneakers squeaking on the tile.

“You okay? You look like you just sucked on a lemon.”

You huff a tiny laugh, ruffling the younger girl’s hair, much to her chagrin. 

“It’s just… dresses here are expensive. Like, really expensive. And I should probably find a—maybe—cheaper option. Something simple.” You lift up the price tag on a teal silk gown, eyes bulging at the amount of numbers that could fit on such a small piece of paper. “Maybe we should just go look at the Salvation Army. I mean, I could find something there and make it work.” 

Nancy exchanges a look with Max, blue eyes shining with mischief.

She steps forward, voice warm and firm.

“Y/N, Don’t worry about the price.”

You blink. “Uh—Nance? I’m absolutely worrying about the price.”

“Don’t.” Nancy insists gently. “Seriously.”

Max rolls her eyes and elbows Nancy. “Oh just tell her, Nancy. She’s gonna figure it out when it’s time to check out and the lady asks who’s paying.”

You tilt your head. “…What?”

Nancy takes a deep breath.

“Steve gave me money.”

Your stomach drop-kicks itself into your shoes.

“What?! Why?!”

“For your dress,” Nancy says. “Whichever one you want. He said those exact words.”

You shake your head, mouth falling open.

“He—what? No. No way. He didn’t—Nancy—no way.”

Max is already back to rolling around the store, humming again.

“Oh he totally did,” Max calls. “Pulled out a wad of cash and gave it to Nancy like it was nothing.” The redhead grimaces at a puke green monstrosity in the guise of a gown, “Harrington finally decided to use his rich boy privilege for good, Mags.” 

Nancy steps close to you squeezing your hand.

“He wants you to feel special, Y/N. He wants this to be good for you.”

Your throat gets tight. Too tight.

Nobody has ever done something like this for your Steve Harrington — her Steve, the boy who once forgot you existed — wants to make sure you have the perfect dress?

It shouldn’t make you want to cry. But it does.

Nancy gives your hand a tug.

“Come on. Let’s find your dress.”

It takes almost an hour.

Max picks out things that look like they were stolen from David Bowie’s closet. Nancy picks things she would wear — elegant, structured, very “Wheeler.”

You try on at least six different gowns.

You hate every single one. None of them felt like you, and they all fit weird. You're about to give up when the shop owner brings out a dress from the back.

Dark purple, soft, romantic fabric. Puff sleeves at the shoulders. A shape that would hug your waist but flow beautifully over your hips into a large ball gown skirt. 

Nancy’s eyes widen. Max stops rolling.

You touch it like it might disappear.

“Try it on,” Nancy whispers.

You hesitates.

Then goes into the dressing room.

Your hands shake as you unzip the back, and you slide it on.

The fabric settles around your body like it was meant to be yours.

You turn toward the mirror.

And—

You don't breathe.

You don't move.

Because for the first time — maybe ever — you see yourself the way other people sometimes insist you are:

Beautiful.

Soft. Strong. Curvy in a way that isn’t something to hide. Sparkling in a way you didn’t know you could.

You presses a hand over your mouth. Your eyes sting.

“Y/N?” Nancy calls. “You okay?”

You swallow, then step out before you can lose your nerves. 

Nancy gasps. Max nearly falls off her rolling chair, jaw dropped, brows raised. 

“Y/N…” Nancy whispers. “Oh my god.”

Max scrambles back up, a genuine look of awe on her face. “Holy shit. You look— you look like– I don’t even know what Y/N, but you look beautiful.”

You laugh nervously, tugging at the skirt.

“Really?”

Nancy walks over, takes your shoulders, and turns you gently toward the three-way mirror.

“See?” Nancy murmurs. “This is how we already see you.”

Your breath catches. You looks at you reflection — really look.

“Steve is going to die,” Max says matter-of-factly.

“Maxine!” You yelp, face burning.

“What? He is! He’s gonna short-circuit like a broken Etch-A-Sketch.”

Nancy giggles behind her hand, giving the younger girl a fond look. “She’s not wrong.”

You turn back to the mirror, fingertips brushing the soft fabric.

“…I love it,” you whisper.

Nancy beams.

“Then it’s yours.”

And you — for the first time in your entire life — let yourself believe that you deserve to feel beautiful.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Byers house smells like hairspray, fabric steam, and the grilled cheese Joyce made because you “need to eat something real before you faint.”

You are standing in front of the hallway mirror in your slip, cheeks pink, hands fluttering nervously.

Joyce is fussing with the dress hanging on the closet door, smoothing the fabric with reverence, like it’s something holy.

Will sits cross-legged on your bed, a comb in his hand, watching the process with wide, earnest eyes.

“Do you want me to—uh—hold something?” Will asks for the seventh time.

You smile, turning to him as you put your earrings in. 

“You can hold my sanity,” you joke weakly.

Will grins. “Okay. Is that heavier than the dress?”

You snort. “Much.”

Joyce turns, eyes shining.

“You’re so beautiful, honey.”

You swallow. Joyce hasn’t said something like that to you in… years. Not because she didn’t love you — but because life had been too loud, too harsh, too urgent.

But right now? Joyce is fully focused on you.

She’d been focused on you all day. Waking you up for a mini spa day, painting your nails like you were 9 again, doing your hair, your makeup… it felt nice, to have everyone's mom be your mom for a bit. 

You sit on the edge of the bed. Will scoots closer, legs bumping yours.

He looks you over with a smile, brown eyes warm. 

“Your hair looks really nice,” he says softly.

“Thanks, baby cakes,” You murmur, brushing his bangs to the side. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

He blushes immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can still be handsome and not be going anywhere.”

Will shrugs, but he’s smiling — that small, shy smile you've missed since before… everything.

Joyce comes around behind you with a makeup brush. 

“Hold still,” she says. “I’m not letting you go out there looking pale. You’re going to glow.”

“Mom—”

“No arguing, miss prom queen.”

You almost laugh — almost.

But then Joyce’s hand touches your cheek, thumb brushing gently under your eye.

“Honey…” Joyce’s voice softens. “You deserve a night like this.”

And your throat closes.

Joyce sees it — of course she does — and immediately pulls her daughter into a hug, careful not to mess up your hair.

“I know things have been… hard,” she whispers into your curls. “And you grew up too fast. Way too fast. But tonight? You can just be a teenager.”

You hold her tightly, swallowing the sting in your eyes.

Will leans in, wrapping his small arms around both of you, making it a three-person Byers hug — the kind they used to do when Will refused to sleep by himself, and Joyce would tuck him into your bed. 

“I like your dress,” Will says into your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the prettiest one there.”

You laugh through the ache in your chest.

“Thanks, Will.”

“And Steve is gonna freak out,” he adds helpfully.

Joyce snorts. “WILL.”

“What?” Will shrugs.

Your face burns. “He is not—”

“He is,” Will insists like he’s reporting a scientific fact. “He acts different when we talk about you.”

Joyce raises both eyebrows. “Oh really?”

“WILL.”

“What?!” He throws his hands up. “I’m just saying.”

You hides your face in your hands as both your mother and baby brother laugh.

Joyce gently takes her hands away.

“Alright sweetie, dress time.”

You hesitate. Then stand.

Joyce helps you step into the dress — careful, loving — zipping it up with hands that shake just a little.

The fabric settles around you like it was made for you.

Joyce covers her mouth. Will looks up at his big sister like you've hung the moon, but, he’s always looked at you that way… tonight, he looks at you like he hopes you can finally see that in yourself too. 

“Oh… Y/N,” she whispers. “Look at you.”

You turn toward the mirror.

The girl staring back isn’t tired. Isn’t burdened. Isn’t the caretaker or the fixer.

She's radiant.

She’s beautiful.

She’s a teenager that hasn’t fought inter-dimensional monsters.

Will gets up and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You look like a princess,” he says softly.

Joyce places her hands on your shoulders.

“You look like you,” Joyce murmurs — and that’s somehow the sweetest compliment of all.

You smile at your reflection, cheeks warm.

And for once… For once you allow yourself to feel excited.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve's POV

Steve stands on the Byers’ front porch, tux slightly crooked, hair perfect (after three tries), and hands vibrating.

He’s fought demogorgons with a bat, twice. He’s survived inter-dimensional tunnels full of demodogs. He’s dealt with Dustin Henderson, near daily, for 5 months. 

None of that prepared him for knocking on Y/N Byers’ door.

He wipes his palms on his tux pants. Takes a deep breath. Knocks.

Inside, there’s chaos — shuffling, a small thud, the sound of Joyce whisper-yelling: “WILL, STOP PEEKING—”

And then—

The door opens.

Not all the way. Just a crack.

Jonathan’s face appears, deadpan as ever.

“Well,” he says. “Try not to pass out.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, opens the door wider—

And Steve Harrington forgets how to function as a human being.

Because you're standing at the end of the hallway.

Lit up by the living room lamp. Dress shimmering like moonlight. Hair soft and half pulled back with sparkling clips. A nervous smile pulling at your lips.

Steve’s breath leaves his body so fast he actually sways.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t even breathe.

Joyce peeks out from behind you, sees Steve’s expression, and mutters, “Oh yeah. He’s gone.”

And Will — sweet, blunt Will — whispers way too loudly, “Called it.”

You walk toward the door, fingers brushing the skirt of your dress. Steve can’t even look away long enough to see where he’s stepping. He misses the step entirely.

You reach him quickly, managing to catch him by his arm before he falls flat on his face against the Byers’ living room carpet. 

“Hi,” you say softly, hand still on his arm. 

Steve opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

He tries again.

“…Hi.”

His voice cracks like a thirteen-year-old.

Jonathan snorts behind you

Joyce elbows him.

You rub his arm once, blushing at the warmth, before taking a step back to look at him. 

“You look… nice,” you say.

Nice. The boy looks like he was tailored by God.

But Steve shakes his head, almost offended.

“No. No way. Not— not compared to—” He gestures helplessly. “You.”

Your blush deepens.

Joyce clutches her chest. 

Jonathan mutters, “Jesus Christ.”

Steve fumbles in his pocket, pulling out the corsage.

His hands are shaking so badly he nearly drops it.

“Um— I got you this. I, uh… ya know, I told you I'd get you a flower thing.”

You hold out your wrist, shy but glowing, both from the amount of blush your mom had applied, and from… well… everything you were feeling. 

He slides the corsage on, fingers brushing your skin—and that’s when Steve realizes:

He is doomed.

Utterly doomed.

Your eyes meet his, and Steve Harrington experiences an emotional heart attack.

You beam up at Steve, soft and warm and full of something he doesn’t have a name for yet.

“You ready?” you ask.

Steve nods too fast.

“Yeah. Yep. Totally. Ready. Very ready. Let’s— go. Prom. Dancing. Stuff.”

You laugh — really laugh — and the sound almost knocks him off the porch.

Before they leave, Joyce rushes forward and kisses your cheek.

“Have fun,” she says. “Be careful. But have fun.”

Steve promises — to Joyce, to Jonathan, to Will — that he’ll bring you back safe.

And when you takes your arm, Steve looks down:

You haven’t stopped smiling since he pulled up.

And he hasn’t stopped staring.

Steve opens the passenger door for you.

It feels old-fashioned, chivalrous, like something from the movies you love. He doesn’t even think about doing it — his body just moves, compelled by some instinct he didn’t know he had.

You step in, gathering your dress so it doesn’t snag, smiling shyly up at him.

The smile nearly kills him.

He shuts the door carefully — carefully, like you're made of glass and wildflowers — then circles to the driver's seat, trying to breathe normally.

He fails.

The moment he sits down, the perfume hits him. Not strong. Not artificial.

Just… Y/N.

Soft. Warm. Floral. Familiar in a way that rattles something deep in his ribs.

He puts the keys in the ignition and misses on the first try.

You bite back a grin.

“Are you nervous, Harrington?”

“What? No. Pssh.” He clears his throat. “I’m— I’m great. I’m cool. Totally cool.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Your hands are shaking.”

“Cold,” he lies. Badly.

You smirk — and he feels that smirk in his knees.

The two of you pull onto the road, and for a long, breathless moment, neither of you speaks.

Then you turn to him, voice soft:

“Thanks for asking me.”

He grips the steering wheel harder to keep from saying something stupid. 

“Thanks for… saying yes.”

You look out the window, cheeks warming.

“I’m glad we’re doing this. With everything that happened last year, and, well… I didn’t think I’d ever get a prom.”

Steve’s chest tightens.

“I would’ve dragged you in myself if I had to.”

You laugh — a soft, breathy sound that fills the whole car.

He glances over at you.

Just a quick glance.

Long enough to memorize the curve of your smile, the shimmer of your dress, the way the corsage looks impossibly perfect on your wrist.

You catch him staring.

“What?” you ask, playful.

Steve’s brain short-circuits.

“Nothing. Just—” He swallows hard. “You look really pretty tonight.”

Your smile drops into something gentler, deeper.

“Thank you,” your whisper.

Silence settles again — but it’s a warm silence. A full one. The kind that only happens between people who fit.

Steve reaches to turn on the radio to fill the quiet.

But you beat him to it.

Your hand lands lightly on his arm.

“I like the quiet.”

And that — that tiny gesture — feels bigger than the entire damn prom.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve’s POV

If someone asked him later what the prom decorations looked like, he wouldn’t be able to answer.

If they asked what song was playing when they walked in, he’d guess wrong.

If they asked who stared at them, whispered about them, froze mid-dance when they saw Y/N Byers looking like that —

He wouldn’t know.

Because Steve Harrington sees one thing and one thing only; Y/N gripping his arm like you actually wants to be there with him.

Your hand is warm. Your perfume drifts around him like a spell. Your smile is small but real — and it’s for him.

Not your siblings. Not one of the kids Not some imaginary boy you deserve more than him.

Him.

You're nervous — he can feel it in the light squeeze of your hand — but you're also happy.

And that?

That’s enough to level him.

People are staring. He knows they are. He can feel the shock rolling through the room.

Y/N Byers — quiet, bookish, last choice, Y/N Byers — looking like a dream?

And she’s on Steve Harrington’s arm?

But Steve doesn’t see any of them.

All he sees is the way Y/N's eyes widen with wonder at the decorations. How her dress glitters under the lights. How she laughs nervously when she bumps into him because she’s trying not to step on her hem.

He leans down slightly.

“You okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. Just… a little overwhelmed.”

“Me too,” he admits before he can stop himself.

You look up at him — really look — and your smile softens into something that turns his bones to dust.

In that exact moment, Steve Harrington decides:

He’s never taking anyone else to anything ever again.

Prom, weddings, fighting monsters, grocery shopping — you're it.

He offers his hand.

“Wanna dance?”

You blush, then nods.

And as he leads her onto the dance floor, Steve realizes something that makes his pulse trip over itself:

He doesn’t care who’s watching. He doesn’t care what they think. He doesn’t care what "King Steve" used to mean.

All he cares about is the girl beside him.

Smiling like he's the one you wanted to be with all along.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You have imagined prom before. Not often — not seriously — just the vague, impossible daydreams girls allow themselves when life gets too heavy:

A dress. A dance. A night without fear.

But you never imagined this.

Not Steve Harrington offering his hand like you're the girl he’s been waiting for. Not the warmth in his eyes when you take it. Not the trembling flutter in your stomach as he leads you onto the dance floor.

And certainly not dancing to Cyndi Lauper with your head just close enough to rest against his if you were brave enough.

You aren't brave enough. Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

But your heart tips forward anyway. Just a little. Just enough.

Steve’s hands settle lightly at your waist. Hesitant, like he’s holding something breakable.

Your breath catches — embarrassingly loud — and he smiles, soft and lopsided, like the boy you used to know before Tommy H and high school poisoned him.

You set your hands on his shoulders.

He’s warm. He’s steady. He’s Steve.

Not King Steve. Not popular Steve. Not Nancy Wheeler’s boyfriend Steve.

Just… the boy who remembered your birthday in seventh grade. The boy who made you laugh even when her home life was falling apart. The boy you never really stopped missing.

He sways you both gently as the music shifts into the chorus:

“We have no past, we won't reach backKeep with me forward all through the night..”

You knows people are watching.

You know Carol is whispering something cruel. You know Tommy H’s mouth dropped open the moment the two of you walked in. You know people are wondering how Y/N Byers ended up here, in a dress like this, with Steve Harrington.

But for once — For once in your life — You don't care.

Not about the whispers. Not about the stares.

Because Steve is smiling at you like none of it matters. Like he doesn’t care that you're a little taller than him in your heels. That he doesn’t care that you have 2 left feet. 

Because Steve is holding you like you belong here.

Because Steve’s thumb just brushed the side of your waist — just barely — and it sent a shiver up your spine.

You look at him.

He looks at you.

And suddenly your heart is so full it aches.

So you blurt, softly, teasing but not really:

“So… does this count as my first date?”

His eyebrows fly up. Then knit together like he suddenly forgot English.

“What?” he breathes.

You swallow, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Well, you said we were going as friends.” You force a smile, hoping it covers your nerves. “So I don’t want to break the rules or anything.”

He stares at you. Stares through you.

Like you just cracked something open inside him.

His grip at your waist tightens — gently, but enough to make you lose your breath.

“Yeah…You can count it,” he whispers, voice low and rough.

Your throat goes tight.

“Oh,” you manage. “Okay.”

You fall into a softer sway.

Closer now. Closer than friends should be. Closer than you've ever let yourself be with anyone.

You can feel his heartbeat through his jacket. You wonder if he can feel yours hammering back.

The lights blur into warm halos. The room dissolves into static and music.

And Y/N — tall, awkward, usually invisible Y/N — feels beautiful.

You feel wanted.

You feel seen.

You bends down slightly and rests your head against his shoulder, just briefly, just to feel him. Steve hesitates — one breath — then rests his cheek against your hair.

Your knees nearly buckle.

You feels his hands shift at your waist, pulling you a fraction closer, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed but wants to try anyway.

The world narrows.

Just him. Just you. Just this moment.

You wonder — for one dizzy, fragile second — what it would feel like if he kissed you.

And then you shuts the thought down so fast it hurts.

Because this isn’t a date. Not really.

Because Steve doesn’t see you that way. Not now. Not ever.

Even if your whole body feels like it’s humming with the possibility of him.

Even if this is the happiest you've been in years.

Even if—

He whispers your name.

“Y/N…”

You lifts your head, heart in your throat—

And your noses nearly brush.

Your breath stutters.

You sees his eyes flick to your lips.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough that you’ll replay it in your head for years.

Then the song ends. The lights shift. Someone laughs too loudly nearby.

Steve steps back first.

Of course he does.

He gives you a smile so soft your stomach knots painfully.

“You wanna… get some punch?” he asks.

You nod even though your chest feels like it’s cracked open.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He offers his hand again.

You take it.

And you walk off the dance floor together.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve POV Steve Harrington has danced with girls before. Plenty of girls.

But he has never — not once in his entire life — felt what he feels the moment Y/N Byers puts her hands on his shoulders.

It’s electric. It’s dizzying. It’s holy shit why can’t I breathe.

And then Cyndi Lauper starts singing and Steve nearly drops dead on the spot.

She looks up at him with those eyes — warm, nervous, shining — and he swears his heart forgets how to pump blood.

He tries not to grip her waist too tightly. But he also tries not to let her go.

Both feel impossible.

“Relax,” she teases softly.

Relax. Relax??

Relax while Y/N Byers is standing in his arms in a dress that could kill a man?

Impossible.

He swallows hard. Focuses on counting the steps.

One… two…

But then he looks at her again.

And the count is gone.

He sees her blushing. He sees her biting back a smile. He sees her absolutely glowing under the lights.

And God help him — he wants to say something stupid and earnest like You’re the prettiest girl here, but he’s terrified his voice won’t work.

Then she says it—

“So… does this count as my first date?”

Steve short-circuits.

Literally.

His brain fries like someone jammed a fork in an electrical outlet.

What??? WHAT???

“What?” he’s breathless, hands tightening around her waist to keep himself upright.

She gives a tiny shrug, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“Well, you said we were going as friends. So I don’t want to break the rules or anything.”

She’s asking permission to call him her first date?

Steve’s stomach flips so violently he grips her waist tighter just to stay upright.

“Yeah,” he whispers. His voice cracks. He wants to die. “You can count it.”

She nods shyly.

And Steve Harrington falls in love.

Not dramatically. Not suddenly. Not like fireworks or sparks.

But deeper. Quieter. Like something inside him clicks into place.

They sway.

Her dress brushes his legs. Her perfume fills the space between them. Her breath grazes his neck.

He thinks: If I died right now, it’d be fine.

Then she rests her head on his shoulder.

And Steve stops breathing altogether.

His hands move on instinct — sliding from her waist to her lower back, pulling her closer, his head nestling against her own.

Just an inch. Just enough to feel the shape of her against him.

He’s aware — horribly, beautifully aware — of every place their bodies touch.

She fits.

That’s the only word for it.

She fits.

He closes his eyes for a second, letting the moment soak into his bones.

Then she lifts her head.

And—

Oh no.

Oh no.

Their faces are inches apart. Her lips are right there. Right there.

Soft. Pink. Tempting in a way that makes his entire chest clench.

He feels himself leaning in without meaning to.

Just a fraction.

Just enough.

Her breath hitches.

“Y/N…”

She’s not pulling away.

She’s not—

He panics.

Full internal screaming.

Abort mission! Abort! Abort! ABORT!

He jerks back slightly.

Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to not ruin their friendship. Just enough not to kiss her when he’s not allowed to want that.

Because Steve Harrington remembers:

He’s her friend. He’s her prom date “as friends.” He doesn’t get to want more.

He doesn’t get to want her.

Not tonight. Not ever — not like that.

The song ends.

He forces air into his lungs.

“You wanna get some punch?” he manages to say, like he didn’t just almost kiss the one girl who makes him feel like the world isn’t falling apart.

She nods, smiling up at him with the kind of smile people treasure. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

And as he leads her off the dance floor, Steve thinks:

If this is as close as I ever get to her… I’m ruined.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gym is loud. The music is thumping. The punch is questionably strong.

But outside?

Outside, under the faint glow of the parking lot lights and the warm late-spring breeze…

It’s quiet.

Steve holds the door open for you as you step out, lifting your dress so it doesn’t brush the pavement. You shiver slightly, and Steve immediately shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.

He doesn’t think. Just moves.

Always for you.

You smile at him — a tired, soft smile — and Steve feels it like a shot to the chest.

They walk to the side of the building, where the students sneak cigarettes, and you pull one out with a little embarrassed shrug.

“Prom night exception,” you say. “I’m trying to quit.”

Steve takes the cigarette from your fingers.

“You don’t have to,” he says, lighting it before handing it back. “Just… stay out here with me.”

You blush, inhaling slowly, letting the smoke calm your nerves.

For a long moment, you both stand quietly. Listening to muffled music. Watching your breaths fog in the cool night air.

You exhale and stare up at the sky.

“Thank you,” you whispers.

Steve looks over, confused. “For what? Punch? Dancing? My excellent tux?”

You laugh — light and pretty.

“For tonight,” you say. “For all of it. For… this.”

He swallows.

“Y/N, you don’t have to thank me. I’m the one who should—”

“No,” you cut in gently. “I do.”

You turn to face him fully.

Eyes shimmering. cheeks pink — from the cold or from the spiked punch, he’s not sure. Dress glowing under the moonlight.

“I haven’t been this happy in a long time,” you admit quietly. “Like… a year and a half, probably longer.”

Steve’s smile fades into something softer, more serious.

Your voice trembles as you continue,

“When Will went missing… when everything happened after that… I kept feeling like I was disappearing. Like I had to be strong all the time. For my mom. For Jonathan. For the kids. For everyone.”

He nods slowly — he knows that feeling too well.

“And then the monsters. The lab. The… everything.”

You take another shaky inhale from your cigarette before flicking the ash away.

“I got hurt. Twice. Almost died. Twice. And I thought…” You laugh, but it’s not funny. “I thought that was it. That maybe this was my life. Being scared and tired and alone.”

He wants to take your hand. He wants to shake his head. He wants to tell you that you were never alone.

But you keep going.

“And then,” you say, voice softening, “I looked up one day… and you were there again.”

Steve feels his heart stop.

“You came back to me,” you whisper. “Right when I needed someone the most. You didn’t have to. But you did.”

He stares at you, breath caught somewhere between ribs and throat.

“Y/N…” he murmurs.

You shake your head lightly, the movement loosening a curl near your cheek.

“When we stopped being friends in ninth grade… after everything happened with Tommy and Carol… I used to wish on shooting stars that you’d come back one day.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh God.

Steve’s chest caves inward.

You laugh softly, embarrassed. “Stupid, right?”

He whispers back immediately,

“No. No, it’s not. Not at all.”

You search his face, eyes tired and open and heartbreakingly honest.

“Tonight… I feel seen. Really seen. For the first time in a long time. And it’s because of you.”

He can’t speak.

He can’t.

Because all he can think — over and over, deafeningly — is, ‘I see you. I see you so much it scares me.’

You give him a small, shy smile.

“Sorry. Punch makes me chatty.”

He manages a breathless laugh. “Yeah. Uh. Definitely the punch.”

You step a little closer. Close enough he can smell your perfume again. Close enough that your shoulder brushes his arm.

Close enough that if he leaned forward—

He doesn’t. He can’t. He’s not allowed.

But he wants to.

God, he wants to.

You flick your cigarette away and wraps his jacket tighter around yourself.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper again.

He forces himself to meet your eyes.

“Y/N,” he says quietly, voice rough, “you don’t have to wish on stars anymore.”

You blink.

Because he’s looking at you like you hung the stars he’s talking about.

And before anything more can be said — before you can ask what he means, before he can ruin everything by answering honestly —

The gym doors crash open and Tommy H’s laugh echoes across the lot, ruining the moment completely.

Y/N steps back, startled. Steve clenches his jaw.

Reality returns.

But something has shifted.

Something irrevocable.

Because you smile at him, a little shy, a little sad, a little hopeful.

And Steve — heart pounding, lungs failing — smiles back.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive home feels like a dream.

You humming along to the radio. Steve sneaking glances when he thinks you aren’t looking. You clutching his jacket around yourself because you still hasn’t given it back.

They don’t speak much. They don’t have to.

The night feels suspended — like the stars themselves are holding their breath.

When he pulls into the Byers’ driveway, he parks but doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

Not at first.

Then you laugh softly — a breathless, happy sound — and says,

“I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling all night.”

Steve’s heart absolutely detonates.

“You shouldn’t,” he murmurs. “You look… perfect when you smile.”

She turns scarlet.

He only realizes what he said after the words leave his mouth.

“Oh. Uhh— I mean— not that you don’t always look— you just— tonight you— you look—”

You giggle.

Actually giggle.

“It’s okay, Steve. I know what you meant.”

He rubs the back of his neck, ears burning.

“Good. Yeah. Cool. Great.”

You both laugh — the easy, nervous kind — and finally climb out of the car.

He walks you to the door, steps slow, hoping the moment stretches on forever.

Y/N stops at the porch steps, turns to face him, and suddenly the world narrows to:

Your dress brushing the wood. Your curls catching the porch light. Your lips — soft, pink, parted just slightly.

You smile.

“Tonight was… everything I never thought I would have. It was perfect, Steve.”

Steve swallows hard.

“It was,” he whispers. “Because of you.”

Your breath catches.

You take a tiny step closer.

And something electric snaps between them.

He feels it. You feel it. Even the porch light seems to flicker like, well? one of you is gonna do something, right?

Steve’s voice drops low — the kind of voice he only uses when he’s completely honest.

“You know… I was scared to ask you.”

Your eyes widen.

“Why?”

He laughs — short, nervous, rough.

“Because you matter to me. Way more than I know how to handle.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

You whispers, “Steve…”

He steps closer — close enough that you can smell the sweet punch on his breath. Close enough that your dress brushes his legs. Close enough that your hand grazes his chest without meaning to.

His breath stutters.

“So if tonight felt good for you…” He hesitates — brave for once, stupidly brave. “I can promise you that it felt ten times better for me.”

Your eyes soften. Your lips curve.

You step into him — close enough that your foreheads almost touch.

Something in your chest bursts open, wild and warm.

“I should… probably go inside,” you whisper. But you don't move.

Neither does he.

You hover there.

Two heartbeats. Two breaths. Two people leaning forward without meaning to.

His hand lifts — fingertips brushing your cheek, trembling.

“Y/N…” he breathes.

You whisper back, voice barely a sound:

“Steve…”

The door opens just as you can practically taste the cigarette you'd shared on his breath…

Jonathan stands there.

Half-asleep. Hair everywhere. Wearing an old Clash t-shirt.

He looks between you.

Steve jumps back like he’s been shot. You nearly trip on the hem of your dress.

Jonathan blinks.

“…Am I interrupting something?”

“NO,” you both blurt in unison — suspiciously fast.

Jonathan lifts an eyebrow.

“Mmhmm.”

You turn bright pink. Steve looks at the porch railing like he’s considering throwing himself off it.

Jonathan steps back inside, holding the door open with the weariness of a single dad who’s been through too much.

“Well… come in before Mom thinks you’ve eloped.”

You laugh — warm, mortified, full of butterflies.

Steve grins — actually grins — like he doesn’t even care that you were caught.

And you walk inside, shoulders brushing, smiles matching.

Another almost-kiss lost. Another moment stolen.

But you’re not angry.

You’re floating.

Giddy.

Because tonight?

Tonight, you both know something has changed.

Tonight, you both felt it. It’s no longer if.

It’s when.

[usedtobecooler]

okay but what about virgin eddie being eager to please and the reader showing him the ropes and he’s just naturally so good at it :( i need it :(

oh anon what are you doing to me!

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering f receiving, cumming in pants, corruption kink, reader really likes that eddie is a virgin, car sex, dubious content (i think? reader rubs up against him without consent?), dirty talk, lots of eddie being called pretty and handsome!!

Word Count | 2.8K

A/N | i really took this and ran with it, god damn!! virgin!eddie just does things to me the boy is SO corruptible. i need help, jesus and a nap after this.

You sort of knew he was at least inexperienced from the get go. You'd met working at the local record store and doing the late shifts together. You never missed the way he'd get so flustered any time you'd pay him a compliment.

'Eddie you look so nice today', 'wow Eddie you should wear your hair up more often it looks good', or when you'd greet him with a 'hey handsome' or 'hey pretty boy' and he'd stumble over his words and go beet red. You could tell he didn't really get chicks, it was obvious by the way that all he could talk about on Monday mornings were his D&D campaigns that he played with literal sophomores.

Twenty year olds who barely skim by to graduate after their third year repeat of senior year didn't get babes. He knew that, you knew that. But you were so attracted to him anyway, you got a sick thrill out of how easy it was to panic him and make him blush.

You gave Eddie a ride home from work every night, the trailer park was a fair few miles from the shop and his van went bust a few months prior so it was sat like an antique with grass growing around it just outside his front door. Wayne made a point of complaining about it a lot when you were in earshot.

'Either fix the damn thing or get the piece of crap towed away. I know we live in a trailer park but we sure as shit ain't tramps.'

So yeah. He wasn't necessarily a lady killer but he was just so pretty to look at and it made your stomach do funny jumps. He was so passionate too, he could talk for hours about his guitar or Lord of the Rings and he remembered every little detail. Soaked in everything you'd ever say and remember it for next time.

So sue you. You liked Eddie 'the freak' Munson who was just the sweetest, prettiest boy you'd ever met. And you needed to corrupt him.

You were subtle to begin with. When you'd shuffle by him in the store you'd make sure to get as close to him as possible as if the space was just too tight for anymore room. You'd lay a hand on his waist to brush past, lightly dance your fingers on his shoulder. 'Whoops, sorry' you'd say when your ass would brush past his dick, you'd pretend not to notice his flustered look and his stumbling words.

It all came to a head on one Saturday night as you were driving Eddie home. Dio's Holy Diver playing as background noise. You bonded over your love of the same bands too, you'd occasionally catch his eyes go all gooey when you'd talk about Metallica. You couldn't help but notice the ways his eyes would wander over your chest, where a band shirt would usually be sitting. The way he'd look at your legs in your fishnets and tight skirts. Stutter when you'd catch him and give him a wink.

But anyway, this particular Saturday you'd asked if he wanted to go to a fast food joint for some burgers before going home. You were, admittedly, starving after bailing on lunch in favour of helping Eddie with the new shipment of vinyl that had came in.

Eddie was a gentleman, offering to pay for the burgers since you'd been driving him home and who were you to refuse a free meal. He took them to go so you could drive to a place somewhere quiet and eat in silence.

You drove up to a spot you went to occasionally when you needed some time to sit and relax on your own. It was essentially an old junk yard full of shitty banger cars but nobody ever came out here and it was nice for watching the stars on a clear night.

You eat your burgers mostly in silence, both of you chomping down like you hadn't eaten in days. You're sat in a silky leopard print skirt, fishnets all torn around your inner thighs from them rubbing together all day. You sit really unladylike, legs open and comfortable.

You catch Eddie peaking again.

"Eddie, sweetheart, its only a pair of thighs." You say quietly, breaking the comfortable silence in favour of embarrassing him, "You see them everyday."

Eddie flusters a little, mouth still full of burger but he stops chewing and goes bright red, floundering for words, "S-sorry, uh, fuck I can't help but look. Your tights are all torn." He points out, motioning towards the large holes.

"Babe, you can't honestly tell me that's the reason you were looking," You say, balling up your fast food paper and tossing it in the back without looking, "you're trying to catch a glimpse of my princess parts."

A laugh bubbles out of your mouth at the use of those words, only using them to tease Eddie and his seemingly virginal ways. Worried if you call it a pussy he'll open the door and flee.

"Uh, eh, I wouldn't know much about that," Eddie cringes at his own words, he can't even look at you and it's just so endearing, "I can't say I've ever seen one."

You gawp a little bit. Taken aback by his confession.

"What do you mean, Eddie?" You ask, the teasing way in your voice only coming out just a smidge now, "You've never...?"

"God, don't make me say it, sweetheart," Eddie grimaces, tossing the last of his burger on the dashboard, hunger long forgotten at the embarrassing conversation, "I'm a twenty year old virgin. Laugh all you want, you should."

"I'm not gonna laugh," You say, all too quickly, "I just can't believe no girl, or guy maybe, has ever pinned you down and just ridden the shit out of you. You're really hot, Eddie. I mean, really hot."

Eddie's cheeks flush so dark they're almost purple and suddenly he's shuffling awkwardly in his seat next to you, like he's trying to cover himself from you.

"Hey pretty boy," Your voice is barely above a whisper now, you lean over and tug at his arm to get him to turn to you again, "I find that kinda... hot."

Eddie scoffs at that but lets you move his arm, your fingers beginning to dance down it, edging closer to his wrist, "Yeah, right. You don't have to lie to me I know it's ridiculous. Who the fuck is still a virgin at this age unless it's by choice?"

"Means you're all kinds of corruptible, handsome." You're not teasing anymore, bringing your hand further down to drag your fingers over his knuckles, "Makes me kinda hot and bothered."

"Oh, oh right," Eddie sucks in a breath and shudders, Jesus Christ this guy has no game and it's so fucking cute you're about to burst. Your cunt is twitching already just thinking about ruining him.

"Maybe I could show you the ropes? Y'know? How to touch a girl an' get her going?" You suggest, and you can see the goosebumps littering Eddie's arms, "Obviously so that when you find a girl you really like you can wow her."

A strangled little noise caught between a whimper and a sigh escapes Eddie's lips, his head thumps back against the headrest on his seat, displaying his gorgeous expanse of neck, the veins protruding in ways you can't ignore. Admittedly, he's already got you going without even having to touch you, and you know now that you're fucked.

"You gotta say yes or no, handsome. Just so I know you're into this and I'm not adding two plus two and getting five," Your voice is gentle as you finally grip hold of Eddie's wrist gently, dragging it over to rest on your inner thigh. His fingers flex on the skin, gripping ever so slightly, making you exhale a shaky little moan.

"I, uh, I would like to. But I'm gonna be shit, no point denying it," Eddie barks out a little sarcastic laugh, his brows furrowing together.

"Oh, honey," You giggle, "you're a guitar player. Those fingers already know what to do without me having to show them. I'll just tell you what to do, where to press, how fast I like it, how hard. Can you listen to me and do that?"

You chance a glance down at his crotch and can see the thick outline of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. Your mouth practically starts salivating, already eager to know just exactly how it looks. In your daydreams it was big, but looking now in the dim light at his concealed erection, it was obvious just how big it truly was.

You get up from your seat, shuffling a little so you can swing a leg over and perch yourself in Eddie's lap, gasping a little when you sink down just enough to rub your cunt along his hardness. Eddie bites down on his lip, a strangled, breathy moan leaving him.

"This okay?" You ask, just to make sure, and he's nodding so fast he could get whiplash. You take ahold of Eddie's right hand again, sliding it under your skirt to let his palm rest lightly over your pussy, letting him feel the heat and the damp patch that's formed in your cotton panties so quickly, "You've done this to me already and you haven't even touched me yet."

"Really? Shit," Eddie looks up at you with wide brown eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. He's so eager, letting his fingers run over your clothed folds, dipping a finger in between experimentally and smiling a little when you moan, "Can I, uh, can I move your panties out of the way?"

"Go for it, handsome. Get a good feel." You're back to smirking again, but not for long when Eddie hooks two fingers into the elastic of your panties and pull them to the side, exposing your puffy little cunt to the cold air. You gasp when two hot fingers rub between your lips, catching on your clit just barely, "Okay, can you find where my clit is?"

Eddie nods eagerly, running his fingers back up and pressing on that little hard bundle of nerves, his cock twitching at the feeling of your slick in between his fingers, "There, right?" He asks, just to make sure, but it's obvious by the way you bite your lip and whine.

"Yes there, fuck, Eddie if you do good for me this really isn't gonna last long," You admit, throwing your head back a little, "just rub me there in small circles, I like it fast."

Eddie's fingers start to almost expertly rub you in circular motions, his calloused fingertips catching and dragging your clit in the most delicious way. You turn into a whining mess quite quickly, especially when his free hand comes up to grab at the meat of your thigh to hold you in place.

"God, handsome, you're really good at this, uh," You choke on your own tongue when he speeds up a little, "wanna use that free hand and slip your fingers in me?"

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, glossy eyes dancing a little, "you sure?"

You nod excitedly, knees buckling a little when you feel his hand come up under your skirt, the pads of two fingers swirling around your entrance. You can't believe he's never done this before, you half expected him to not even know where your hole was never mind anything else. He looks into your eyes, raising his brows a little in a silent question and you nod again.

Eddie sinks his fingers in all the way to the hilt immediately and it makes you gasp, the breach unexpected but certainly not unpleasant. A nice stretch, the cold of his thick rings on the rim of your cunt making you shiver, "Pump them in and out of me and try to find a, Jesus, a rhythm that matches your fingers on my clit."

"Does this feel good?" Eddie asks, and it's clearly meant to be in earnest but it sends hot flushes all up your spine, his long fingers beginning to pump in and out of you slowly.

"God, yeah, yeah it does, Eddie." You whine, hips having a mind of their own and helping him with the process, helping his fingers sink in and out, "Crook them a lil, you'll find a soft spot, kinda feels like a sponge."

Eddie's brows furrow together, his fingers starting to falter both inside of you and on your clit as he tries to find a rhythm. It comes back to him quickly, both of his fingers sunk deep in your cunt crooking ever so slightly and finding your gspot almost immediately.

You choke out a moan that sounds wet, like you're about to cry, "Fuck, right there, handsome. Keep doing that, m'gonna cum."

His fingers are heavenly dancing inside of you. His assault on your clit is hard and fast and soon enough you're so wet that you can feel it running out of you, probably slicking Eddie's hand, wrist and arm with creamy slick, "How does it feel for you, Eddie?"

You're looking at each other and the lust is apparent in Eddie's face, the way his brown doe eyes are hazily watching you, "Feels so good. Your pussy feels like heaven on my fingers, you're so tight."

"Fuck, dirty talking already are we?" You almost squeal, a hot flush taking over your whole body as you chase your orgasm, "Love hearing dirty words coming from your mouth about me, keep going."

Eddie leans forward, hot mouth kissing and sucking wetly at your tits, your collarbones, your neck, "Y'like that? Like my fingers in you? You're whining like a little slut."

You fucking lose it at being called a slut, the mixture of his hands, his mouth and the obscene slicking sounds coming from your cunt have your legs buckling, your stomach twisting as you reach your high, cumming so hard that your pussy constricts and grips at Eddie's fingers tightly, a loud moan slipping from your mouth, hands automatically coming up to grip at his curls as your hips fuck back and forth, riding out your orgasm.

You're sensitive, shivering a little as Eddie rubs you through the last of it, so you rest a gentle hand on his wrist to let him know to stop. He stops immediately, long fingers sliding out of your cunt slowly as not to startle you.

"Was - was that okay?" He asks, looking at you again with those gorgeous, stupid doe eyes, the nervousness back and apparent in his voice. You're all orgasm stupid, barely able to keep your eyes open, so you lean forward and smash your lips onto his, greedily lapping your way into his mouth with your tongue as a way of confirming it was good.

Eddie's big hands come to encircle around your waist, deepening the kiss. So, okay, he's not the best kisser just yet but you can show him that too. It's sloppy and wet and everything you need right this second.

Your hips begin to rub along the length of Eddie's still painfully hard cock straining in his pants, you put down enough weight to grind perfectly against him, your sensitive clit loving the friction of the thick denim running against it.

"Wha-" Eddie pulls away from your lips, confusion on his face turning to ecstasy, a moan escaping him. Fuck, he's so loud it's making you flutter.

"Was gonna try an' get a hand on your cock but that can be for another day," You hum, hips still gliding back and forth roughly, "wanna see you cum in your pants, though."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea what you're - uh, god - what you're doing to me," Eddie's whimpering, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, matting down his fringe, "m'gonna cum, shit, shit, I'm cumming."

You watch every bit of it, the way the veins in his neck pop, his eyes squeezing shut as he vibrates against you, fingers squeezing you so hard it'll bruise. Fuck, he's so pretty you want to die, you can't believe you're the first person to make him cum and you didn't even have to lay a hand on him.

When Eddie eventually opens his eyes, the blush is back on his cheeks, as if he's mortified by what he just did, "Damn, twenty years old and I just came in my pants like a teenager."

"It was hot, pretty boy," you sigh, leaning down to peck his lips, "I'll get a hand on you soon though, I need that thick cock everywhere on me."

He whines at that, hips bucking up of their own accord, "Fuck, you dunno what you're doing to me, sweetheart."

"Corrupting you, Eds. And you're gonna love every fucking minute."

[mardyart]

teacher steve harrington

[laheymaze]

you just called me her boyfriend

summary: you, steve’s sister, are visiting from college and steve warns eddie not to try anything with you… he doesn’t listen ;)

warnings: spicy! mentions of sex! language!

*i always forget to post my imagines on here lol… for more go to simplytbs on wattpad!*

———–

“Don’t you dare flirt with her, make eye contact with her, breathe near her, nothing of the sorts! Got it?” Steve was in the middle of giving Eddie a long speech about how he can’t go anywhere near you, his older sister who is visiting from college. “Plan A: do not sleep with my sister! Plan B: do not fuck up plan A! I’m watching you, Munson!”

“Dude, can you please calm down? I am not going to do anything with your sister, okay?” Eddie assured the panicking Steve.

“You better not, or I’ll kill you.”

“What even makes you think her and I would have a thing? She’s related to you so not my type.” Steve threw Eddie a look.

“Just leave her alone, okay?” Steve walked out of Eddie’s trailer, heading to the airport to pick you up.

When you saw Steve from the terminal gate, you began running, and jumped into his arms, so happy to see your brother.

“I missed you, you idiot.” You told Steve, standing in front of him and hitting his shoulder.

“I missed you more. Everyone is excited to see you.” Steve told you.

You made your way to Dustin’s house, as everyone usually hung out there since you and Steve didn’t want your friends around your crappy parents. When you got out of the car, Dustin and Robin were waiting for you outside.

“Y/N!” Robin and Dustin shouted, Robin running and jumping into your arms, wrapping her legs around you. You started hysterically laughing, and held onto her so you both wouldn’t fall to the ground. When she finally let go, she hugged you like a normal person, Dustin joining in.

“Thank gosh you’re here, Steve is going senile again,” Dustin told you.

“I am not.” Steve protested.

“After hearing how you threatened Eddie, yeah, you are.”

“Eddie as in Eddie Munson who you are wildly jealous of because you think Dustin likes him more than you?” You questioned.

“I never said that!” You laughed at Dustin, and the four of you walked into the house.

He was sitting on the couch when you walked in, and you locked eyes immediately and smiled. Shit, he thought to himself.

“Eddie, this is my sister Y/N,” Steve said, unenthusiastically. Eddie stood up, standing in front of you. He grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it and bowed. You giggled and whispered a ‘hi’.

“Hey, no, no, no! I told you not to flirt with her! We talked about this Munson!” Steve warned when he saw the two of you.

“Really? I don’t remember having that conversation. Must have been someone else.” Eddie said innocently, smiling at you, sending you a wink.

“I hate you.” Steve told Eddie.

—

A couple of days later, after much flirting and smiling despite Steve’s protests, you and Eddie found yourselves alone in Dustin’s house while Steve was helping Dustin build something in the backyard. You were both sitting on the couch, sneaking quick glances at each other while pretending to watch TV.

“I can’t believe helicopter mom left us alone together,” Eddie said, making you laugh.

“He’s always been like that. I can’t have any boy’s attention without him losing his shit. I’ve never even had a boyfriend for more than a month because of him.” You said, laughing. You were now facing Eddie, pulling your legs up and crossing them on the couch.

“But you go to college in another state, you could easily have one.” Eddie pointed out.

“Haven’t really found the right one there. I’m weird for liking rock music and not dressing like the other girls. I prefer my oversized rock band t-shirt and ripped jeans.” You confessed. Eddie stared at you in awe.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“Tough question. Top five would easily be KISS, Metallica, AC/DC, Motley Crue, and Ozzy.”

“No fucking way, I don’t believe you.” Eddie said.

“I’m serious! Why?”

“Because those are my favorites and I actually shred the electric guitar.” Eddie bragged.

“No way! You have to show me!” You lifted yourself up a bit, standing on your knees now, getting closer to Eddie. Eddie stared at you, smiling. He suddenly wrapped his arms around your hips, pulling you onto his lap, your legs stretched out on the couch. “What was that for?” You whispered as his face got closer to yours.

“I want to be an idiot. And disobey your stupid brother while I’m at it.” Eddie said, smirking. He crashed his lips into yours, and they began moving in sync. Eddie’s hands were still tightly wrapped around your body, your hands getting lost in his hair.

After a few minutes, you pulled away at the sound of Steve and Dustin yelling at each other outside, knowing they’d come in any second to rant to you about whatever they’re arguing about.

“Can we continue this later?” You whispered, kissing Eddie again.

“Please.” Eddie said seductively as you moved off his lap. He grabbed a pillow and put it over him, guiltily smiling at you. Proving you correct, Steve and Dustin burst inside, calling your name over and over.

“Can you please tell this little butthead that I don’t have a thing for Nancy anymore, Y/N!” Steve shouted at you.

“But you do?”

“See! Can’t hide anything from us!” Dustin exclaimed.

“You are extremely transparent, Steve.” You said, laughing. Steve looked offended and went to grab a pillow of the chair, hitting you with it. He then turned to Eddie, making a questioning look.

“Why are you holding that pillow like that?” Steve questioned.

“Am I not allowed to hold a pillow, Harrington?” Eddie shot back.

“Can we please go finish my fortress?” Dustin asked Steve. Steve smiled and messed up his hair, leading him outside.

“I have to go, but call me later, okay?” You told Eddie. He got up, kissing you and watching you get into your car and driving away.

—

That night, you heard a knock on your window. You got up to see Eddie’s face, smiling back at you.

“Are you crazy?” You whispered, letting him in.

“For you, yeah.” You smiled. “I didn’t see any cars in the driveway but yours.”

“That’s because my parents and Steve get the privilege of parking in the garage, not me. I’m not a prized child.”

“Why? You’re amazing.” Eddie countered.

“You obviously haven’t met my parents. Anything we do isn’t good enough. I’m going to an Ivy League, but still not enough. Plus, it makes Steve look bad because he isn’t going to college. It’s a lose-lose either way.” You sat down on your bed, sighing. Eddie sat next to you, pulling you to his side, wrapping his arm around you. He used his other hand to rub your thigh.

“Well to me, you are good enough. Nothing would ever change my mind.” Eddie told you.

“You just met me.”

“More reason to get to know you and take you out.”

“I go back to school in a couple of weeks.” You said, sadly.

“Then let’s make the most of it.” Eddie cupped your face with his hands, leaning in. His lips softly landed on yours, giving you chills.

Eddie backed you up, causing you to fall back on the bed, him hovering on top of you and not once breaking your kiss. His hands were all over your body, and yours went back to his hair. Eddie lifted his shirt over his head, and you did the same with yours. They both got thrown across the room, along with his jeans and your shorts.

“Shouldn’t you take me out first and then sex?” You joked.

“Would you rather do that? I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking and—” You cut Eddie off by kissing him deeply.

“I was joking. I want you.” You assured him. Eddie took that as a sign to put his lips back on yours, then trail kisses and small bites down your body. Each one making you moan. He left a huge hickey on your chest, making sure it was in a spot that could be easily covered. You unhooked your bra, throwing it with the rest of your clothes. Eddie stared at your bare chest, smiling.

“You are gorgeous,” Eddie told you. His hands started slowly moving down your body, his fingers playing with the hem of your underwear. He looked at you, and you nodded, signaling that it’s okay. His slipped his fingers underneath, playing with you, teasing. You moaned, trying to stay quiet. You looked at your door, making sure it was locked. Eddie suddenly put two fingers in, making you moan loudly and causing you to arch your back.

“Fuck.” You whispered.

“Shh, babygirl.”

“I know, but it’s difficult to stay quiet when you make me feel this good.” You told him. He smiled and got chills when you grabbed the top of his underwear, beginning to pull it down. He helped you, tossing his underwear aside. He pulled his fingers out of you, reaching over to his jean pocket, pulling out a condom. “Came prepared I see.” You teased.

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep myself away from you.” Eddie whispered seductively. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Please.”

—

You woke up the next morning in Eddie’s strong arms, your head on his chest. You smiled, thinking of last night.

“Good morning Princess,” Eddie whispered. You tried to control your wetness as you heard him say that in his morning voice.

“Good morning, handsome.” You reached up, kissing him softly.

“You’re incredible,” Eddie told you.

“Says you.”

Eddie rubbed the side of your face with his hand, placing his lips on yours. In the back of your head, you heard your door knob jiggling, but you knew it was locked. Suddenly, the door opened, and there stood Steve with a screwdriver in his hand. That bitch. You and Eddie broke away, staring at Steve.

“Shit.” Eddie exclaimed.

“Shit.” You agreed.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Steve screamed after a moment of processing what he was seeing.

“Get out!” You yelled at him. Steve left, and you and Eddie quickly got dressed. You both laughed a bit as you got dressed, knowing how mad Steve was going to be.

“To be fair, he isn’t very threatening,” Eddie told you. You kissed him before opening your door. When you did, Steve was waiting there, and he grabbed Eddie’s arm, yanking him into the hallway.

“What was Plan A, Munson?!” Steve questioned. You stood there, confused.

“Don’t sleep with your sister.”

“And what was plan B?”

“Don’t fuck up plan A.” Eddie responded, clearly knowing what Steve was referring to.

“And what did you do?!” Steve demanded.

“Fucked your sister.”

“EW DO NOT SAY IT LIKE THAT!” Steve shouted.

“Can you please take a freaking chill pill, dude! I am old enough to make my own decisions! I’m not letting you scare this one away, Steve.”

“I don’t scare your boyfriends away.” Steve countered.

“You just called me her boyfriend,” Eddie said, proudly.

“Never in a million years,” Steve said, scorning at Eddie. “Why him?” Steve asked you.

“Maybe if you got to know him you would see that he’s a good person and that he and I actually have a lot in common.” You told your brother.

“You’re not a satanic cult freak.” Steve stated.

“Fuck you.” Eddie whispered.

“Enough, Steve. Just let me have this, please? I really like him and you aren’t stopping me from feeling that way.”

“What about when you go back to school?” Steve questioned.

“I’ll write her letters and I’ll save up and go visit. I’ll send flowers and I’ll call every chance I get. I’m not ruining this, Harrington.” Eddie stated. You smiled, surprised that Eddie would do all of that. Steve stared at Eddie questionably.

“Fine.” Steve began walking away, but turned around and nodded at you. You nodded back and smiled. “But the next time you have sex, go to his house, please. That’s disgusting.”

“Okay!” You exclaimed, messing with your brother.

“I am not encouraging it!” Steve exclaimed. Eddie scooped you up in his arms and started running away with you dramatically.

“Too late!”

—–

one of my faves so far <3

also, gosh, babygirl always hits me hard

make sure to like and reblog !!

[ynngaa]

[rainylana]

“Do you want to have sex?”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: after a long day of pointless arguments and a game of who has the biggest balls?, you find yourself face first into pillows and hands tied to a headboard.

warnings: this is straight up filth i’m telling you right now. 18+ only, ALWAYS. smut, so much smut help. oral f receiving, bondage, gagging, decrophylia, slapping, spanking, language, fighting, orgasm denial, dirty talk, face licking, choking, fingering, name calling. think that’s it??

this was requested by @edzmunsonswife i’m sorry it took so long, but i made it extra dirty for you:) like it’s for real filth, baby. i hope you like it!!<3

taglist!

@ariesl0ves3ddiemuns0n @eddiemunnson @eddiemania @ches-86 @kellysimagines @underthebatcape @fionnthebandersnacc @imabadarsebard @justaproudslytherpuff @your-starless-eyes-remain @cosmic-lavender @supercalifragilisticprincess @blowing-mikey @chaos-incorp @aa-li-yxh @livasaurasrex @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @fvcking-gxddess @catherinnn @hearts4laura @mic429 @avobabe87 @tessiemessie @ohlovelyhollow @no0neknowsm3 @softyutae @kaqua @noturmom15 @lexthemess21 @nothisispatric @lillianofliterature @rovckwells @phantomxoxo @bellasfavoritesweatpants @antigoneidk @averysblog @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @flowers-and-tsukki @ahzysauce @imangy @tripthlightfantastic @ultimate-sdmn-trash @genuine-possum @heeyitsg @getbillzoned @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @grace--03 @basicallybats

When you and Eddie fought, it was the most dramatic thing anyone set their eyes on. Usually, you fought over things that didn’t matter, didn’t even make sense, but that’s just how the two of you were. When you’d get into it at hellfire, everyone watched in amazement, and annoyance, at how dramatic and theatric you both got. Shouting at the top of your lungs and flaying your arms like you were puppets on a stage. It was always a challenge between you two, a challenge to see who was going to cave first.

Today was just one of those days, and though nothing serious had really happened, you just couldn’t seem to get along. It was the little things. Eddie had left a big pile of his clothes outside the bedroom door, causing you to trip and fall face first into the floor. He helped you up and brushed the dust of your shirt, offering a snicker of amusement and a sticky kiss on the cheek.

Then you had accidentally misplaced his motörhead cd when you’d put in your own, which sent him into a spasm until he found it under the coffee table. He kept burping extremely loud just to piss you off, and he’d smirk at the glares you sent him. Then you wore a top that was basically just a scrap of cloth when you’d went to buy groceries, and his jaw had hung loose in disbelief as he watched you pull out of the driveway. And you’d forgotten his beer like he’d asked for.

So, no. Nothing serious had really happened, but this was an annual game that you both played. Who has the biggest balls?

However, now, Eddie was actually irritated with you, because you’d worn the top to hellfire night, and not a single soul was able to keep their eyes of your chest. You entered first into the trailer with a red, angry face. He’d done nothing but scold you on the way home.

“Don’t you think…I don’t know, that it’s a little too..revealing for playing dnd?” Eddie huffed, all but slamming the door closed and shrugging off his jacket, tossing it to the couch.

“What I wear is none of your business, Edward.” You retorted, hands on your hips as you spun around to glare at him. “If you don’t like it, big fucking deal! Just don’t look at my tits then!”

“You were just trying to piss me off.” He pointed at you, jaw tense. “All day you’ve been..you’ve been toying with me.”

“Toying?” Your eyes widened, scoffing in disbelief. “What about you! You’re not gonna blame all of this on me, are you? You’ve done nothing but try to get on my nerves today!”

“Yeah, well, you-” He pointed at you, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find words of insult. “You- you..you look like a slut.”

You let out a groan of audacity through your clenched, gritted teeth, and you brought up your hand to smack him right across the face, hard.

His face snapped to the side, and he let out a small grunt as he brought up his hand to hold the cheek you assaulted. His eyes were wide as he turned to you, both of your chests heaving with hot air. Who has the biggest balls?

You were both animals. Because despite the face your faces were bright red, small, angry pants leaving your scowled mouths and eyes sharp with irritation, you were wet between the thighs and he was rock hard underneath his jeans.

He swallowed audibly, sighing as he shook his head. “Damn.” His eyes widened with a hard breath. “Guess I…well, I guess I probably deserved that.”

You pursed your lips, trying to keep from moaning at the throb between your legs that was deeply prominent. “Yeah.”

A thick, sexual tension filled the space between you, and your eyes drifted down to the absolute tent in his pants. He scratched his neck awkwardly. “Do you…uh,” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Do you want to have sex?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

You both quickly closed the space between you and locked arms, mouths hot against each others’ as waves of curls hid your faces. You both moaned and groaned as you both stumbled backwards into the bedroom, tripping over the pile of clothes he hadn’t picked up yet.

His hand pulled up your shirt, rough palm trailing over your breasts, bra long forgotten in the hamper as you collapsed back on the bed with him on top of you. His lips found your neck, your legs wrapping around his waist as he rubbed his erection against the wet patch of your jean shorts. You moaned sweetly into his ear, flexing your hips into his as you pulled at his hair. His teeth lightly bit into your collar bone, and you whimpered, pulling at a lock that made him groan.

“Remember what you’re supposed to say when it gets too much?” He pressed his face into the crevice of your breasts that spilled out of your shirt, licking around your nipples.

You nodded, eyes fluttering open and closed as heat swelled in your abdomen. “Um- oh, mercury.”

He smirked against your hot skin, placing one soft, delicate kiss on your plush breast. “Good.” He lifted himself off you, and you looked up to him with lovestruck eyes. You gave him a small smile, but he wiped that smile of clean and quick when his palm connected with your cheek. You gasped painfully as a ring dug into your cheekbone, eyes watering at the heavy, stingy weight that made you see stars.

You looked back up to him with shock, and that smile he had given you was gone, replaced with a cold, hard look. The throbbing only grew warmer.

“Think I was just gonna let that slide, baby?” He whispered hotly against your face, admiring the redness of your cheek. “You’ve been a bitch all day.”

“I’m sorry.” You said bashfully, blinking away tears, reaching up to try and pull him back in.

“No, no,” He grabbed your hand, pinning it down to the bed. “Nough’ of that. You’re gonna take what I give you, or you’ll get nothing at all.” He sat up on his knees as his fingers undid the button on your shorts, yanking them down your legs and working your ankles through the holes, tossing it to the floor in the abyss of other clothes.

He lowered himself down your body until your thighs rested on his shoulders. “Don’t cum.” He gave you a stern look before he buried his face between your thighs. You yelped at how rough he was, shooting you and gripping at his hair, bucking your hips deeper into the bed to get away from his teeth.

His tongue swiped a long strip up your cunt and puckered his lips around your clit, sucking and circling the bud. You let out a strangled breath, hand reaching out to fist the sheets. “Oh, god-” You whimpered, eyes brimming with tears as your stomach twisted together.

His hands gripped your thighs, squeezing the flesh roughly as his hair tickled your skin. His nose buried into your folds, forehead pressing hard into your clit. You jumped at the feeling, grabbing the back of his head. “Fuck! Oh, god, shit, shit-”

He let out a throaty groan into your core, the vibrations going straight to your stomach. His hand reached up to squeezed your breast, nails digging into the skin, continuing to nip, bite and pull at your clip. Your legs trembled and you let out a cry as his tongue made circle after circle on your clit. He’d never been this rough when he ate you out. It was almost painful.

You threw your head back into the pillow as you moaned, hot breath leaving in pants as your stomach grew hot and tight. “Eddie- Eddie I’m gonna-”

“No, you’re not.” He growled, pulling your body down more with a yank by your thighs.

You sobbed as tears stuck to your neck, breath coming out in hyperventilating pants as you tried to keep from coming, but he was so relentless. He was squeezing your thighs so tight to the point of bruising, and his face was sliding up and down, side to side your core easily from your arousal.

Your noises filled the room. Desperate whimpers and moans, pleas and yelps as your hips flexed into his nose. You were dangerously close, your body trembling quickly and rapidly against the bed. Your eyes closed in ecstasy, and before the coil in your stomach could pop, be pulled away.

You shined and looked down through tears, your heart racing in your throat. He looked up through his lashes with a smirk, and you grew red in embarrassment at your arousal on his face. All. over. his face.

Your pussy throbbed so badly with need it made you sob, letting out a desperate whimper for him. “Eddie-” Again, your face snapped to the other side, his palm smacking down the other side of your cheek, rings against your cheekbone. You let out a strangled yelp into the pillow, and his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you up to face him.

Tears fell against his fingers, and he admired the work of his outlined hands on your cheeks. You were crying in his face, gulping at the sticky globs is arousal against his porcelain skin.

“Clean your mess up, bitch.” He sneered, forcing you closer, hand still gripping your throat. “Stick out your tongue.”

You obeyed, sticking out your tongue as you whimpered and blubbered like a baby. The urge to reach down and relief yourself was overwhelming, but you knew you’d pay for it regretfully. He held a stoic stare, eyes on yours as he urged you to go on.

You leaned up and pressed your tongue against his shiny cheek, the salty taste of your wetness filling your taste buds. You licked a strip along his jaw, collected a glob. You gasped when his fingers disappeared between your legs, knuckles barely ghosting over your cunt. Despite his orders, you knew you weren’t going to be able to hold your orgasm off for much longer.

He squeezed your throat and you wheezed, forcing your face into his, your tongue flattening out and cleaning up your mess. You tried to pull away when his fingers sharply thrusted up inside of you, nearly sending you through the ceiling, but squealed when he curled his slender digits against your walls.

Your tongue went to his nose, but you could barely lick him, mouth gaping open as you moaned. You couldn’t stop, and you could feel his erection against your thigh. Your hips flexed and you trembled, and you just couldn’t hold it-

“No.” He pulled his fingers out and released you with a shove, leaning up to unbuckle his belt.

“Eddie,” You cried, face dripping in perspiration, tears and a snotty nose. “Please, I’m sorry- please, fuck me.”

He scoffed at you, pulling the leather through the loops. “Shut up. What did I tell you? You’ll take what I fucking give you. Turn around.”

You whined, breath hitching as you turned around to lay on your stomach. He snatched each of your hands, pulling them above your head. He slipped his belt through the headboard, folding the end around your hands and pulling them tight. You winced at the leather digging into your skin, but you figured that would be the least of your worries.

“If you want to whine and act like a stupid slut,” He husked, pushing his jeans past his hips as he gripped your thighs and pulled up to rest on your knees, face pressed into the pillow. “Then I’m gonna treat you like one.” He reached behind and pulled the black bandanna from his pocket, pulling you up by the hair to wrap it around your face. You choked and gagged when he pushed it between your lips, wrapping it around your head and tying a not against your neck. Another shove and you were back into the pillow.

You whimpered when he slowly pushed into you, and he lowly groaned as his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of your soft pussy around his hard cock. You pushed back into him, muttering a choked plea for more. You gasped when he dug into your hips with his fingers, leaning up to thrust sharply, bottoming out with one push of his hips.

You sobbed into the pillow as he roughly dragged his cock in and out of you, sobbing and sobbing. Your wrists pulled at the headboard, banging it againt the wall.

You were seizing. Your body so tight and tense from bundled nerves of pleasure and pain. Your throat was raw from screaming, face stained from tears and a leaky nose. The bandanna cut into your lips with each cry. His thick length sucked into your pussy with ease, and he was groaning loudly above you, letting out quiet whimpers.

“You gonna start acting like my sweet little girl again, huh?” He panted, pushing his hair away from his face, peeking down at you. “Or do you need punished even more?”

You shook your head no, thick fabric keeping you from being able to speak. His thrusts slowed some, and you desperately pushed back to find a rhythm. He didn’t miss your desperate reach of pleasure, and he gave a tsk of disapproval, slapping his hand down hard on your skin. You squealed, jolting up and rutting the headboard.

“That’s not behaving.” He sneered, hand snaking around your hair and pulling you up, throat straining. “Maybe a bruised ass will help get the job done.” He gave a well rounded smack on your skin, far from the love taps he’d given to you in the past. You screeched, sobbing at the sting as he let your hair go. His cock still laid buried deep in your cunt, not moving a single inch.

He squeezed the skin before he laid down another, then another, and then another. Hard, full handed blows that made you pushed forward, trying to get away from his sinister hand. He laid all of his hits on your right cheek, then gave one singular thrust that made you scream and him moan together. Your moans of pleasure turned into pained squeals when a smack landed on the left cheek. He stopped his thrusts, leaving you quivering and a sobbing mess. Blow after blow, bruises formed and the room filled with loud sounds of skin slapping and choked tears.

The urge inside of you had never been so desperate, so needy. You were pulsing and shaking like a fallen life, almost to the point where it was too much. He watched through hooded eyes as you screeched at the seventh, hard spank on your ass that left welts. “Is this getting the point across?” He raised a brow, rubbing your skin with a red, sore palm. He could only imagine how your backside felt.

You nodded quickly, muffling a stained yes. Your breathing was erratic, broken into pieces, and he knew you’d had enough. He sniffled dryly. “Relax. I’ll give you what you want.” He leaned over and undid the belt that held your hands, letting them fall to plush pillows. He removed the knot from the back of your head and tossed the bandanna, turning you around with gentle hand. Your face was red and blotchy, and he parted your legs to slide back inside.

Your lips connected, molding together like lava. His face was still sticky from your arousal, yours from being nearly tortured. He gave deep, deep thrusts into that perfect spot that made you see stars, your pussy vibrating over his girth. It was only seconds before your orgasm finally came, and he didn’t deny it from you. You buried your face in his shoulder and bit down, wailing out in hot moans as you convulsed around him, his load shooting into your cunt.

You laid back onto the pillows in a panting, crying mess, body trembling and quivering as your orgasm washed through you like waves. He collapsed atop of you, chest heaving against your own as you both came crashing down.

He gulped, craning his neck up to you. “You..you good, baby?”

You nodded, despite your ass that was on fire. “Yeah. I’m good.”

You’d be sure to slap him again real soon.

[fan-fantasies]

Fake It

Please comment and reblog! I’d appreciate it!

A/N: I apologize for my absence but life is roundhouse kicking my ass right now. But I’m super excited about this piece!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: smut! Dom!eddie, spitting, name calling (both sweet and dirty- slut), unprotected sex, daddy kink!, creampie, mentions of porn

“Maybe it’s me; maybe I’m broken,” you sighed to Robin. She simply rolled her eyes as she continued to sort through the return stack.

“It’s not you- guys just suck,” she said.

“Hey!” Steve yelled from the back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop then!” You yelled back.

“Maybe you guys should just speak louder!”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna kill him,” you mumbled. “Seriously, Robin- is it to much to ask for a guy to make me feel good? He doesn’t even have to make me cum, just make me feel something!”

“Eh-hem.” The sudden clearing of a throat made you jump as you whipped around to see a flustered Eddie Munson standing awkwardly at the counter.

“Shit!”

“Munson! What’s up, man?” Steve said with a smile, emerging from the back.

“N-not a whole lot. Looking to see if you got any new releases in,” he said, his eyes not leaving you the whole time.

“(Y/N) definitely hasn’t,” Robin mumbled. You threw an empty case at her which she easily dodged.

“Um, yeah, let me check the back. I think I did see some new titles.”

Steve wandered to the back, leaving you flustered in front of Eddie. He stared at his shoes and rocked back and forth, not really sure what to say to you.

“I think I’m gonna go help Steve,” Robin said before heading off. You tried to catch her attention and tell her no but she purposely didn’t look back at you.

She was the only one that knew about your crush on the metalhead, although she claimed it was obvious by the way you became a flustered mess any time he was around. Despite him being one of the kindest people you had ever met, you were always too scared to make a move. So that’s why you settled for less than mediocre dates with far less than mediocre guys.

“So, uh, any plans for the weekend?” You asked, trying to break the horrible tension.

“Just gonna hang out and watch some movies,” Eddie answered.

“Right, right. Of course,” you mumbled, mentally facepalming yourself.

“Why do you ask?” He asked.

“Just curious! I think I’m gonna go see what’s taking those two idiots so long.”

Before Eddie could say anything else, you booked it to the back. You crashed into Robin and Steve who were listening behind the curtain that closed off the back room from the counter.

“What the fuck is taking you guys so long?” You whispered.

“We we’re having too much fun listening to you crash and burn out there,” Steve snickered. “I’m sure if you asked him to hang out, he would say yes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You have Robin a death glare but she threw up her hands.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah, it’s just really obvious,” Steve chuckled. “Here, bring him this.”

Steve shoved you back out there with the tape in your hands.

“Did they get lost or something?” Eddie asked with a small smile.

“Pretty hard to find things when they have their heads shoved up each other’s asses,” you said loud enough for them to hear.

Eddie let out a loud laugh and it made your heart jump up your throat. He looked down at the tape in your hand and reached for it.

“For me?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. You rang him out and handed him the tape. “I’ll see you around.”

“I’m counting on it,” he smiled.

—

“Why are the guys around here so boring?” You asked to no one in particular.

“I’m not boring!” Steve scoffed.

“Yeah okay,” you laughed. “What’s the most adventurous things you’ve done in bed?”

“Well…I… I’ve used a scarf?”

“A scarf?” You repeated.

“Were you cold?” Robin asked.

“No, I wasn’t cold! We used it as a blindfold,” he said sheepishly.

“I highly doubt you’ve blindfolded a girl,” you challenged.

“I never said she was the one blindfolded,” he said with a smirk.

“Harrington!” Robin gasped. Steve wiggled his eyebrows as you fake gagged.

“I can be a…what’s the new term kids are using these days…oh right, I can be daddy.” Steve tried to purr but failed miserably.

“You give off more of a mommy vibe,” you said. “You and your scarf of mystery.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly kinky, Steve. Grandparents are using blindfolds these days,” Robin added.

“Yeah, why do you think they like knitting so much?” The three of you jumped when you heard the voice interrupt. Eddie stood there with a very amused expression on his devilishly handsome face.

“That’s gross,” Steve scowled.

“Thought it was kinky?” You laughed. Steve rolled his eyes before turning back to Eddie.

“(Y/N), here, was just saying how all the guys around here are boring in bed. Care to weigh in?”

“Steve!” You smacked his arm. “That’s not exactly appropriate to ask a customer.”

“A customer? Ouch. And here I was thinking we were friends,” Eddie said, holding his hand to his chest.

“We are friends,” you mumbled, rather embarrassed.

“Good,” Eddie beamed. He slid his return across the desk. “And I can promise you that not all the guys in this town are boring.”

Eddie sent you a wink before heading back out the door. Your jaw dropped as his words spun in your head. Robin ever so gently closed your mouth for you.

“Didn’t want you to catch any flies,” she chuckled.

“I bet he’s never used a scarf,” Steve grumbled angrily. “Maybe I should take up knitting.”

—

The next time you saw Eddie was at a small get together that Steve and Robin threw together last minute. You weren’t expecting him to be there but he was a part of the group now so you didn’t know why you didn’t think of it.

You sat in the kitchen with Nancy and Robin, lamenting about your recent and pitiful sexual conquests.

“Two dates, two duds- I literally have the worst luck!” You sighed. “I mean, is it too much to ask for a guy to eat me out and spit in my mouth?”

Nancy’s eyes widened as she looked behind you. You froze in your spot, not wanting to turn around.

“H-hey, Eddie,” Robin tried to smile awkwardly. You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath. Why was it always him?

“Hey, ladies,” he coughed. “Mind if I grab a drink?”

“Go for it,” Nancy said.

Eddie moved around you and reached across you to the drinks you were sat in front of. His eyes dropped down to your lips for a split second before moving back up to your eyes.

“Hi, (y/n),” he said loud enough for only you to hear. You swore you saw a smirk on his lips but your mind went into overdrive and you had to focus solely on breathing and not passing out.

“Earth to (y/n)? Can you move so we can grab a drink?” Dustin yelled from behind Eddie.

“I got it, man,” Eddie said, reaching across you again. His body was pressed to your side as he poured a couple drinks for his friends. His scent invaded your senses as you felt the heat from his body blanket your own. You didn’t realize your fluttered closed until he cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered.

“You sure? I could bring you home if you’re not feeling well,” he offered.

“No! I’m good, I swear.”

“If you say so,” he chuckled. He gave you one last look-over before he finally retreated to the other room and you thought Nancy and Robin were going to double over in laughter.

“You know…Eddie might just be the solution to your little problem. He’s probably a freak in more places than just the streets,” Robin said with a wink.

“You’re insane!”

“She’s right! He’s totally into you and everyone knows you’re head over heels for him-“

“What do you mean everyone knows?” You shrieked.

“I’m just saying, you don’t exactly hide it well,” Nancy said. You rolled your eyes at your ridiculous friends and went back to sipping your drink.

You couldn’t get the image of Eddie out of your head for the rest of the night. By the time you got home, you were a mess, and not the kind you wanted to be. You settled into your bed for a long night of frustrating attempts to seek a release, one that never came.

—

“It has to be me; I’m definitely broken. If I can’t even fuck myself how can I expect anyone else to?” You sighed to Robin on the other end of the phone.

“Sounds like there’s something blocking that part of your brain. It’s probably that fact that you’re lusting over a certain metalhead whom you refuse to make a move on,” she said. You groaned and threw yourself back on your bed.

“He doesn’t want me,” you told her.

“You never know until you ask.”

“Yeah well I’m never gonna ask so just drop it. Please?” You pleaded.

“…fine…I’m gonna bring a care package over to your place later and we can hang out and take your mind off of things, okay?” She said.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.”

You hung up with your friend and stared at your ceiling. You needed to figure something out soon or you were going to combust.

Hours passed and you almost forgot Robin’s promise to stop over. You were in nothing but an oversized tshirt and your panties, not shy in front of your lifelong friend. When you heard the doorbell ring, you thought nothing of it as you bounded down the stairs toward the front door.

“Rob- oh my god!” You froze as you saw someone who was definitely not Robin Buckley standing outside your door. “Eddie?”

“Sorry…I thought Robin told you I was coming?”

You looked at the bag in his hands, filled with some of your favorite items, and everything started to click.

“I’m gonna kill her,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing! Thanks so much for bringing this for her, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”

You tried to grab the bag from his hand and close the door but his grip was tight and his stance unwavering.

“She also told me I have to stay here and make sure you relax sooo do you mind if I come in, sweetheart?” He asked, already pushing past you and into your house.

“Sure?”

“Folks aren’t home yet?” He asked, taking a look around. You stood dumbfounded in your doorway, his question snapping you back to reality.

“They’re out of town visiting friends for the week,” you answered. You closed the door behind you and went to grab the bag but he stopped you.

“Not so fast, beautiful. I need to quality check the items first.”

You didn’t think anything of it until Eddie started to pull out a wide array of items-

a box of your favorite candy, some lotion, a scarf. You were confused by the selection but nothing mortified you more than what Eddie pulled out next.

“Talk dirty to me, parts one and two,” Eddie said with a huge smile.

“Oh my god!” You snatched the pornos out of his hands and threw them back in the bag.

“Damn, when Robin said you needed to relax, I guess she wasn’t kidding,” he laughed.

“Okay, I’m thoroughly embarrassed and ready to crawl under a rock so you can go now,” you said, trying to pull him toward the door by his arm. He pulled you back flush against his chest.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. That’s no way to treat a house guest, now is it?” The deep rumble of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“N-no,” you whispered.

“No what?”

“No…sir?”

“Good girl,” he smiled. He backed you against the wall, your heart beating a mile a minute. “Do you want me to help you relax?”

“Yes, sir,” you said without even having to think.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Of course,” you said with a faint smile on your lips. You trusted Eddie more than you trusted most people and you knew he would take care of you.

He grabbed the bag and led you to your bedroom. You were nervous, not because it was Eddie, but because part of you really did believe you were broken and you didn’t want to be a disappointment to Eddie.

Eddie must’ve sensed your nerves because he turned to you and grabbed both your hands, looking you in the eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything, you know? We can just hang out o-or I can just leave…”

“No! No, don’t go. I’m just in my head a little, that’s all,” you sighed. He brought the back of your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

“I’ve got you; please don’t worry,” he said. You simply nodded before letting him grab the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head. His eyes scanned your bare torso with nothing but adoration in his eyes. He left your panties on as he laid you down on your bed. You heard the bag rustle and the scent of lavender soon filled your nose.

“Just try and relax, baby,” he said softly. He rubbed the lotion together in his hands to warm it up before gentle squeezing your shoulders and running his hands down your back. He worked your tense muscles under his calloused hands, making you melt almost instantly.

The lower his hands went, the tighter the coil went in your stomach, just begging for release. He worked on your thighs, squeezing your ass in the process. His hands lingered on your ass for a minute before they slid back up to your shoulders.

You wriggled your hips uncomfortably, preferring he would’ve shown your aching pussy some much needed attention.

Eddie got impatient with your moving so he straddled your waist and pinned your hips down with his.

“Just try and enjoy this, sweetheart,” he said.

“I’d enjoy something else a lot more,” you groaned. He hit a particularly tense spot and you moaned as he massaged the knot. You felt him shift, pressing more into your ass. You let breathy whimpers fall from your lips as he started to grind his hips against you.

“Eddie, please,” you whined.

“Please, what, baby? Ask daddy nicely,” he said. The way he said that with no shame, completely confident and in control, made your mouth go dry. He stopped the movement of his hips- “I won’t ask again.”

“P-please touch me, daddy,” you begged.

“I am touching you, love,” he chuckled.

“No, I want you to fuck me!”

He moved back and slapped your ass, making you yelp.

“Watch the attitude before I fuck it out of you,” he warned.

“If you can,” you mumbled under your breath. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back.

“What was that?” He growled in your ear.

“I don’t think you can fuck me that hard, daddy,” you challenged. He let out a dark chuckle.

“Of course you’re a fucking brat,” he laughed. “I should’ve guessed. Maybe that’s why no other little boys in this town could satisfy you. You needed a man to know how to handle you, baby. Is that it?”

His other hand snaked it’s way into your panties; he was delighted to find out just how wet you already were for him.

“Yes, please. I need you!”

“There’s your manners; what a good girl.”

“Mm, yes. I’m a good girl, I’m your good girl,” you mumbled incoherently as he started to rub slow circles on your clit.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a smug smirk.

You were trying to grind against his hand, trying to get more stimulation but he wasn’t having it. You were flipped onto your back and panties were ripped from your body, exposing your slick pussy to Eddie. He reached over to the bag and grabbed the scarf that you were suspecting Steve had something to do with.

“Since you have a problem with holding still-“ he grabbed your wrists and tied them with the scarf, putting them over your head. “Don’t. Move.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered.

Eddie crawled down so he was eye level with your pussy and it was hard not to move with anticipation. You needed him to touch you, to do anything, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to dive in and eat your pussy like a starving man.

“Eddie!” You shrieked. Your hands flew down to his hair and he immediately stopped.

“This is your one warning, babe,” he said as he threw your hands back up.

He turned his attention back to your clit, giving it kitten licks with his tongue. He would tease it at your entrance, only to return to your sensitive bundle of nerves. He was quickly bringing you to the brink of an orgasm, faster than you’ve ever gotten yourself there.

“Fuck, please. Please make me cum,” you whined. “Use your fingers.”

“You’re in no place to be making demands, princess,” he chuckled, his chin glistening. “The only thing going inside you tonight is my cock.”

His words alone were enough to build a fire in your stomach. He gripped your hips and pulled you flush with his face and you were certain he wasn’t even breathing. He ravaged his pussy with his tongue. Your head was swimming but you tried your best not to move, terrified he would stop and wouldn’t let you come. What a cruel punishment that would be- the only man to ever even bring you close to an orgasm only to take it away because you disobeyed.

The closer you came to the edge, the louder you chanted his name. He focused solely on your clit, providing enough pressure to finally push you over the edge. Your body convulsed as a powerful orgasm crashed over you. He didn’t let you go however, continuing to lap at your pussy as you came.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he crawled over your body and you expected him to kiss you but he didn’t. Instead, he tapped your jaw and said, “open.”

Your eyes widened more than your mouth when he spit directly onto your tongue. He didn’t even have to ask you to swallow, just smiled with pride as you did.

“Somebody listens,” you said with a smirk.

“Of course. How else am I gonna please my girl?” He asked. Your brain short circuited when he called you that but you played it cool.

“That was amazing, Eddie,” you sighed happily.

“Did you think I was done with you yet? I told you, the only thing inside you tonight is gonna be my cock. So if it’s okay with you, I’d like to feel just how well you take my cock,” he said with a devilish grin.

“Do I get to lose the scarf?” You asked.

“Only because you were such a good girl for daddy.”

He untied you and threw it to the side of the bed. He finally took off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in his underwear. You could see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric and it made your mouth water.

You reached toward the hem of his underwear and he let you take them off. You ran your fingers along his length, as if memorizing every detail.

You leaned forward and he stopped you. Your heart nearly stopped, thinking you did something wrong.

“I just can’t wait to feel your pussy, baby. That’s all,” he reassured you.

“Please, daddy? I just wanna taste you.”

“Are you questioning me? You take what daddy gives you and then you thank him.”

He lined up with your entrance, gathering your slick on his head.

“Daddy thinks quite highly of himself,” you teased.

“God, maybe I should fuck your mouth just to shut you up,” he growled.

“You won’t,” you challenged further.

Without warning, he slammed balls deep into you.

“You’re right. I won’t. Greedy little sluts don’t get what they want. You’re gonna get used however I want. I’m gonna fuck your pussy until you can’t even think of walking. You’re gonna milk my cock until I fill you with my cum.”

You were left breathless at his relentless thrusts but still managed to croak out a moan when he said that.

“Oh you like that, dirty girl? Of course you do. Letting me fuck you raw. You’re gonna let me cum so deep inside you, yeah?” His head fell into the crook of your neck as you raked his back with your nails.

“Daddy, I’m so close. Can I cum? Please, daddy, let me cum,” you cried. Literal tears formed in your eyes as you felt the coil tighten in your stomach once more.

“Shit, what a good girl. Fuck, didn’t even have to tell you to ask permission,” he grunted. “Cum, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.”

The tears flowed freely as your vision went white and all you could hear was static for a second before returning to reality. Eddie fucked you through your orgasm- trying so hard to keep his rhythm while close to cumming himself.

“Ohh fuck!” A few more thrusts and he was emptying into you, spreading a warmth throughout your entire body.

He pulled out slowly, watching his cum leak out of you, down your shaking thighs, and onto your now ruined bed sheets.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked, wiping the tears from your face.

“Yeah, sorry. That was just…I’m speechless. Phenomenal doesn’t even begin to describe it,” you said.

“You mean it?” He asked. His overconfident facade melted away and it made your heart swell.

“Eddie, that was everything I could’ve asked for and more.” You placed a gentle hand on his face and he leaned into your touch.

“I haven’t even kissed you yet,” he chuckled.

“Did you want to?”

“I would like to kiss you every day if I got the chance,” he admitted.

“I think that could be arranged,” you said before pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“You’re gonna have to learn to obey your daddy then,” he told you.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you laughed.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. That just means I get to punish you and fuck you ten times harder.”

“That better be a promise, not a threat.”

“God, you’re perfect.” He kissed you again and pulled you on top of his chest. “Get plenty of rest, sweet girl. Tomorrow we’re having a whole date day to make up for this unceremonious rendezvous.”

“We can return the scarf to Steve,” you chuckled.

“And you can thank Robin for setting this up.”

“Yeah…I should thank her…right after I kill her for embarrassing me so much.”

“It worked out, didn’t it?” He retorted.

“I guess it did,” you said with a smile. “Now that I know you can make me cum, I’m never letting you go.”

“I’ll make you cum every goddamn day if it means I get to keep you.”

———————

Taglist: @mellomadness @munsaniac @thebookbakery @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @rafecameronswhore @dootys @tiredwritersworld @lily-sinclair-2006 @dylanobriens-love @moonbeampillgoth @lady-hellfire-1985 @lagataprrr @whore-of-many-hot-men @crimsonsabbath @moldy-khunt @wheaty-melon

Sorry if I missed anyone! I was trying to rush!

[mardyart]

where everything is the same but eddie has been there since s1

[dreaminginpencil]

A little… sweetness to counteract the other one I made.

(I love them your honour.)

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫  

part one | part two

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. now friends, you, eddie and junie take a trip to the city. queue oreos with double the cream, a sock related mishap, a display of strength, storybooks, matching pajamas, a velveteen rabbit and a tray of cupcakes to eat on the drive home [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, eddie’s mom implied to have passed away, mention of past falsely presumed self-harm (not graphic, just baby eddie scratching a rash and wayne worrying), hair tourniquet + intense panic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie doesn't mean to come knocking. He's staring at the ceiling with an open tray of Oreos on his chest, chewing through the boredom of a Monday evening and the pain of an aching back when he thinks of you and Junie. 

Toddlers like cookies, right?

He shoves his socked feet into poorly laced converse and turns out all the lights as he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, a rattling of metal ringing into the crisp night while he takes his steps two at a time. 

He starts up the street to your trailer and slows as your home comes into view. The lights are on, the curtains open. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes closed, stretching to one side with your arms held high above your head. He can see the moment your back pops, see the tension of the day slip away just slightly. The exposed stretch of your tummy shines in the light.

You say something to Junie. He decides to stop acting like a stalker and bumps up your steps, hesitating at the door with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

What the fuck was he going to say? Hey, guys, I brought a half-eaten tray of cookies. Um. Because I missed you both? Sorry if that's weird? 

"What kind of loser…" he scathes. He doesn't finish, bringing his hand to the door and knocking with a haphazard explanation waiting on the tip of his tongue. 

You open the door a short few seconds later. You smile wide, wide enough to open the yawning gap in his chest all over again. Tonight when he goes home he'll have to close it like he has to so often lately after seeing you. Pretend his feelings for you – whatever they are – are smaller, less terrifying. 

"Eddie," you say, and the gap stretches with how you say it, fond and warm and breezy. "Hey, where's your jacket? It's too cold to walk over here without one." 

He doesn't have to explain himself at all, as it turns out. You open the door and step aside to let him past. 

He grins at you. "Thought I'd brave the great outdoors without any armour." 

You nod like it isn't all nonsense to you and maybe it isn't, maybe being friends with him is clueing you in to all his fantastical lingo. He likes you more for it either way, especially when you say, "You need a healing potion. It's freezing."  

You're embarrassed at your attempt. Eddie can't believe how cute you are, lost for words and flailing. His chest warms with affection.

Junie saves you both, whizzing down out of the nest of pillows where she'd been buried on the couch and across the room with surprising speed and accuracy, barrelling for his knees. He grins as she wraps herself around them and starts talking. 

It's mostly unintelligible until she says, "Hi! Hi, Eddie!" 

He hugs her back with his hand. "Hi, Junie. Good evening." 

"Good," she manages in return. She's all but mastered good morning and afternoon but evening continues to elude her. 

"What were you watching? Your Muppet Babies?" He looks at the screen to find Kermit, the green frog, singing a song. "Been doing some singing practice for the band?" 

"You want coffee?" you ask. Aforementioned healing potion. "I have decaf." 

"I brought cookies." 

"Warm milk it is," you declare, disappearing behind one of the kitchen cabinets. 

Your bravado makes him laugh. 

He finds his attention stolen once again by your lovely daughter when she complains, glaring up at him fiercely and coveting his hand. He balances the Oreos on your table by the door and offers her both, naked of their usual rings bar one. 

Junie drags him over to her pillows and tries to climb back up. She refuses to let go of his hand, making it an insurmountable feat. Eddie awes at her efforts and helps her back into the nest, hands closing around her small waist and lifting. 

He drops her into the pillows with just enough roughness to garner a laugh. "Sorry, my hands slipped. Hey, what's going on here, junebug? This isn't your usual hangout." 

"I felt bad because she's always on the floor," you call from the kitchen. He can see your hands and your torso through the gap of countertop and cabinets. You pour milk into a pan on the stovetop and tap your fingers against the handle frenetically. He wonders if you're anxious about something. 

Junie whines until Eddie sits next to her. As soon as he's situated she takes his hand again insistently and turns her attention to the television. He rubs the soft, small back of her hand with a less soft thumb and peers down the way at you. 

"She loves the floor,” he says.

"I know," you mumble ruefully. A tad theatric. He must be rubbing off on you. "I had to bribe her into sitting on the couch." 

"Yeah? What's the tab?" 

"A few dozen kisses and all the pillows from my bed." 

"Shame it wasn't half a tray of cookies." 

"I think those might help me out." 

After you've poured the milk into two tall glasses, you admit to him in a smaller voice that you're not sure if Junie likes Oreos. 

"'Cos they're bitter?" he asks. 

Milk in hand, you sit in the free seat next to Eddie and try not to sound as embarrassed as he knows you're feeling when you say, "She's never had them." 

"I'll bring chocolate chip next time." 

You shake your head vehemently. "You don't have to bring anything, ever." 

"I like sugar." 

You smile at him like you know he's trying to make you feel better, a touch shame-faced. He smiles at you in return and hopes it shows how much it doesn't matter – bringing snacks with him when he visits is hardly a generosity. You're friends. 

He keeps trying to have that conversation with you, about sharing and money and all that terrible, embarrassing hardship that isn't embarrassing whatsoever but the words taste like chalk in his mouth.

Instead, he offers the hand that hasn't been stolen by Junie to you for a glass of milk. "One of those for me?" 

You pass it to him. 

"Why'd you feel bad? You're not forcing her," he says as he takes a sip. 

"You don't think it looks cruel?" 

"No way. She's one of the happiest babies I've ever met, who cares if she lies on the floor?" 

"How many babies do you know?" 

"One." 

You're laughing when you say, "I don't know. I think it's a habit. But we have a couch, so she should sit on it." 

Eddie retrieves the Oreos. Junie watches curiously as he peels open the tray, four rows, two empty and two full of black and white cookies. 

He takes one and passes it to you without looking at you. Eye contact gives you the opportunity to reject it. 

When he's heard the soft crunch of your first bite, glass of milk between his knees, Eddie holds an oreo up purposefully and twists. "See, Junie?"

He licks a big stripe over the vanilla cream. The cream spreads edge to edge as he pushes both sides back together. Softened by a generous dip in milk, he eats the cookie in one vagabond bite. 

"You wanna try?" he asks when he's done. 

Big hands over her small ones, Eddie shows her how to twist an Oreo open. She brings the cookie with the least of the cream to her mouth and bites it. Her pout wobbles in mild disgust. Eddie tries not to laugh. 

She has to like Oreos. They're a staple. 

"Let me show you," he says gently, taking the cream heavy side out of her hands. Dark crumbs stain his fingers as he holds it up to her face. "You gotta lick it." 

She doesn't want to, evidenced by her wrinkled nose and untrusting gaze. 

"You'll have to do it for her," he tells you gravely. 

Moving to kneel in front of him, you take the oreo out of his hands and lick it before stealing back the half of the cookie Junie had been munching on and squishing them back together. You dunk her sandwich in milk and press it to her lips until she deigns to take a small bite. 

"Yummy?" you ask.

She takes the cookie back, a mess of dark black mush collecting at the corners of her mouth as she eats it.

You gaze up at him from the floor. Your eyes look damn pretty, more so when he offers the tray to you, your smile a beacon. "I haven't had Oreos since I was a kid," you say excitedly.

"Do they taste like you remember?" 

You rest your hand on his knee and lean in. "They need more of the filling," you say secretively. 

"Yeah?" Eddie's in motion, twisting one oreo apart and then another. He takes the halves with the most cream and pushes them together. 

One oreo, twice the cream.

You giggle as he passes it to you. "Oh my god." You're giddy, arm heavy on his thigh. 

You eat it like it's something crazy expensive, all smiley and indulgent. You look so pleased that he immediately starts to make you another. 

"Eddie," you protest, covering your mouth, "don't, don't waste them." 

"I won’t waste them. I like the cookie more than the cream,” he lies. 

"Oh." 

You finish your oreo. Eddie can’t find it in himself to be modest about it; you’re smiling and it’s his doing and that fills him with pleasure. 

He watches you mistreat his jeans as you chew the second, your fingers pulling distractedly at the rips. You tuck your hand underneath, white threads tensing over your knuckles and fingerprints brushing over his kneecap, your entire face cringing as a thread snaps from the pressure. 

Eddie looks away quickly. He can feel your eyes on him and has to bite back a smile as you assess if you’ve been caught. 

You could ruin them completely for all he cares. 

Junie makes happy noises beside him. She’s realised the middle of the Oreo is the sweetest and has split one open in her hands. A terrible mess ensues, cocoa powder fingerprints smattered over the pillows she’s buried in and vanilla cream marring her nose in a sticky line.

“Could you make any more of a mess for your poor mom?” he asks. The rhetoric is lost on her; she says something cheerful and holds her hand out for another cookie. 

Her face — expectant, small, cute, all of it evokes an uncontrollable urge to do whatever it is she wants him to do. 

“Is that, like, a kid thing?” he asks. 

You pull your fingertips away from his skin and cock your head. “What?”

He splits an oreo and offers Junie the cream-heavy half, clarifying through a mouthful of dark cookie, “Following her every command.”

You sit at full height. He instantly misses the heat of your front to his knees, the way you’d draped yourself over him familiarly, and is wondering how he might begin to convince you to do so again as you think it over. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It might just be a Junie thing, but I guess that’s immature to think. S’pose it’s hormones or something. Like when cats meow.”

He giggles at you. Hormones? Cats?

“What?” you ask, half defensive, half sheepish. 

“I just- I love it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?” 

He shrugs and takes another pull of milk to think of a way to say, Well, when you’re tired you get nonsensical, and it’s charming how confident you are but hard to follow without offending you. Is there a way to say that without offending you? Or worse, without revealing every wretched feeling he has for you?

“I sounded pretty stupid,” you summarise. 

“No! Never. I love that you think like that. That you’d think about cats meowing.”

“They do it to manipulate us,” you explain. 

He can almost see the heat of an embarrassed flush radiating off of your cheeks, the press of your lips so endearing he almost leans forward to feel it. He can imagine it, his thumb over your mouth, the pad pulling down your bottom lip. 

There’s an arrogance in thinking you’d let him. 

“Jungle cats, tigers and lions and stuff, they don’t meow,” and you’re still going! He has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from bursting. “Because they don’t need to. They have no idea what a baby sounds like, and they don’t need us to take care of them so they’ve never learned how to meow. Babies are like that. We hear them crying and we want it to stop.” You have a smile on your face that says, I don’t know if what I’m saying is true, but I’m gonna pretend it is. Pretend with me?

Eddie’s all about pretending. “Cats are master manipulators,” he eggs you on, "but you realise not everyone wants babies to stop the way you do? Some people just don’t like babies.” 

“That’s okay. More babies for me.” You lean out to tap his forehead. “Touch wood.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Touch wood,” you repeat. “I don’t actually want more babies right now, don’t wanna jinx myself by saying it, so I had to touch wood. You don’t have that superstition?”

“Are you saying my head is made of wood?” 

Your sudden laugh is stunning; he can’t bring himself to be offended. 

When Junie's had more Oreos than she should've and the milk's all gone Eddie stands up before you can do it yourself and takes the empty glasses with him, putting them on the kitchen counter with a click. 

He grabs an almost empty pack of wet wipes off of the top of the refrigerator and sits down next to Junie, talking fast in hopes of distracting her.

"I got a call last night," he begins, pulling a wet wipe from the pack and taking Junie's wrist into his hand. He doesn't use the wipe at first, tryimg to convince her that this is all affection. "The phone went ring ring," he rolls the sound around, "and I was thinking, who the heck is calling me so late?" 

He plays up his outrage but keeps a huge smile in place as he works his thumb into Junie's palm, tickling in circles. 

"So I answer the phone, and I say, who is this? And you know who it is?" 

Junie waits, looking like she might be close to laughing. And he's just getting started. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here! Is this Junie on the other end?" 

What his impression lacks in accuracy it makes up in enthusiasm. 

Her little mouth opens. He wipes the corners with the wet wipe and then her chin. "So I said, no, Mr. Frog, I'm Junie's neighbour. I'm Eddie.

"Kermit said, you can call me Kermit, thank you very much. Mr. Frog was my father." 

You snort beside him. He tries not to look at you because he knows your happy face will stop him in his tracks, your laughter enough to make him smile and break character.

He squares his expression and begins again. "I need to talk to Juniper, it's very important." He wipes down her sticky hands, her stained fingers and palms, worse than smug when she doesn't complain and pull them away. "I said, I'm sorry Mr. Kermit but I can't put her on, she's all safe and snug in bed with her mom. And Kermit said, oh, okay. Well, please tell Junie this." 

Junie's looking up at him, surprised, very pleased, practically wiggling in her seat. She's lovely. Just like her mom. 

He doesn't want to do the voice for this part, struck with a sudden sense of awe. "She is… the smartest, most prettiest, loving little girl in the whole world." 

Eddie beams at her and drops her damp hands. When he impersonates Kermit this time, he's trying as hard as he can. "I'd only like her more if she were green!" 

-

You're clinging to sanity. 

It's Wednesday, it's washing day, and you haven't managed a single load of clothes since you got home because Junie won't stop crying. This isn't new; babies cry constantly and toddlers aren't much different. But, it's been three hours. She's too old for colic. 

Junie has screamed, she's sobbed, she's slapped her tiny hands into your chest. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, she's just communicating her panic. That doesn't stop the growing distress. 

You're terrified. 

You've found yourself in tears, too. 

"Just tell me, baby," you plead. 

It's useless. She screams so loud her voice cracks, and you decide that nows the time. You have to go to the hospital. 

You don't think you can let her go long enough to strap her into her car seat. Immediately, you think of Eddie. You don't even lock the door. The small walk to his house feels a block long.

He must hear her crying as you approach because the door swings open just as you mount the first step. You backtrack. 

"I'm really sorry," you say quickly, knowing this isn't something he ever signed up for. "I don't know what to do, she won't stop and I think there's something wrong." Your voice wobbles.

There's a huge flash of something akin to the panic you're feeling over his face but he pushes it away, descending the steps two at a time. His hand immediately comes up to your shoulder, fingers curled into your shirt. 

"Chill out," he says, more stern than you've ever heard him. It’s surreal to see him turn like that. Almost like he’s become one of his characters, the voices he does for Junie’s story books. 

You take a ragged breath. 

"I'm serious. You need to calm down. You understand?" 

Junie gives a blistering shout and your face crumples. "Eddie," you say. 

"Can I hold her?" he asks, softer. 

You can see in his face that he isn't sure, that he's out of his depth, but you're so desperate for a life raft that you nod and squeeze your eyes closed, passing her into his waiting arms. Everytime she cries – every wicked intake of air and every subsequent bellowing sob makes your chest ache. You have a splitting headache. Honestly, you're worried you might fall over. 

"How long has she been crying?" he asks, looking over her face and shoulders with a perplexed frown. 

"Hours. At first I thought she was tired or- or hungry but I've tried everything, Eddie, everything." 

"She was like this when you picked her up?" 

You nod. 

He pats her back, the other hand rubbing down one of her legs soothingly. "Did she hurt herself?" He's looking at you without an ounce of judgement.

"Not- not that I know of." You'd looked under her shirt and trousers already. She doesn't have a single bruise. 

He starts to walk back towards your home. You don't follow at first and he reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you along as he says, "Come on, sweetheart. We'll go down to Hawkins general, yeah? Just to be safe." 

"Yeah." 

Junie screams. "It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, again and again and again. He doesn't hesitate, his voice velveteen. 

His hand stays on your arm until you're by the car. He's never done a car seat before and you can tell: he tucks her into it with infinite care but can't work out how to do the buckles. You laugh wetly and then feel very guilty. wiping your face with one hand before ducking down to do them yourself. Junie glares at you as you do, still very much crying and now incensed at being strapped in. 

You stand back to take her in and push your thumbs across her wet cheeks and under her snotty nose uselessly, feeling so sorry for her, so guilty. Why can't you work out what's wrong? Why can't you fix it? 

Eddie stands by your side, waiting.

“You got it,” he encourages as you pull back. "You're okay."

You smile weakly and then narrow your eyes, the two of you seeing it at the same time – Junie reaching desperately for her sock. 

You peel it off with shaking hands and feel another hot shock of tears. There, around one of her toes, is a tourniquet. The skin is swollen but looks unbroken, darkened by blood 

You smile because Oh my god, this is what's wrong, and then you panic twice as much as you had before, because Oh my god, her tiny toe. 

"Eddie, I need- I need something. I need a- a nail scissors or-" You drag your hands down your face, in the thick of it. Adrenaline or cortisol or something must race through your veins, your hands shaking with it.

Eddie pulls you back by the hem of your shirt. "We can't cut it away. You'll never get the blade under that- What is that? A hair?" 

"Yeah. A hair." 

A lightbulb moment. You brush past him and almost fall up the steps back into your trailer. 

"Stay there," you say without any explanation. 

You step over the mess you'd left behind and barrel into the bathroom, clipping your shoulder on the bathroom door and slamming onto your knees. 

You're lucky you have it, a tiny pot of hair removal cream in an old makeup bag under the sink. Resisting the urge to kiss the lid, you rush back out to the car where Eddie holds one of Junie's hands in his. He looks an impossible mixture of worried and relieved when you reappear. 

You elbow digs into his chest as you lean over, opening the cream and smearing a line over Junie's swollen toe. She whimpers and shouts and tries desperately to get out of the carseat and, to your devastation, away from you.

"What is that?" Eddie asks from behind you.

"A hair remover." 

You wipe the delapitor clumsily into your only good jeans so you can take both of Junie's arms into your hands. She doesn't want to be touched but you need to be holding her, at least a little bit. 

"How long does it take?"

"I'm not sure… Not long. If it doesn't work we'll still have to go to the hospital." 

Eddie pushes his hands into the top of your back in answer, his fingers curling either side of your neck like he might give you a massage. You shudder as he pulls you against him, as his fingers trace an invisible pattern.

Junie looks up at you both. Her wounded expression loosens. Maybe she's realised that you've figured out her problem, maybe she's just glad to be looked at. Either way, she subdues. 

The hair removal cream's acrid smell tickles your stuffed up nose. You sniffle and Eddie's fingers work into your neck lightly, a silent and unwavering It's okay.

You don't see the hair snap so much as you see the pressure wean. You smother a sob, your relief palpable as you pull your shirt sleeve down to cover your hand and wipe it away. Junie shrieks. 

You take the hair between your nails and pull.

"Oh my god," you say, holding it up between you. 

Everything feels a little bit hazy after that. Eddie rubs your shoulders placatingly before encouraging you away from the door so he can unclip Junie and pull her out of her car seat. He guides you away from the car and back into your trailer, over the mess and into the kitchen. 

You sit heavily in a battered kitchen chair. Eddie stands in front of you, Junie on his hip and a frown warping his pretty features. She grizzles, less when he sets her down in your lap carefully. 

"Is that okay?" he asks softly. Then, when you nod, "Are you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out." 

"I don't feel well." 

"No, I bet you don't. Take it easy."  

You pull Junie's leg up to examine her foot. Her toes are covered in hair remover still. "Could you get me the baby wipes, please?" 

"Sure can. It'll cost you, though." His joke falls a little flat. You try to smile anyhow, your little huff forcing a last tear. You blink until it's gone, aggravated with yourself. 

After all, her toe looks better. Sore, still swollen, but better. Though you could just be seeing what you want to see. 

Eddie tries to pass you the baby wipes but your hands are shaking too badly to take them. Without a word he opens the pack, kneeling on the floor in front of you to wipe down her foot tenderly. His eyebrows pinch together when she whimpers, and he murmurs a sorry, "I know, I know." 

You're trying very hard to calm down.

"All done," he tells her, parentese in play. "You are so brave, junebug. You're the bravest little girl I've ever met. That's why me and your mom decided you were Juniper the Brave, and you proved us both right." 

He taps the tip of a ring-heavy finger under her chin. You watch from over her shoulder. "Really brave. You did a good job, the best job ever," he praises, tilting his head to catch your eye as he says it. 

You smile at him the best that you can. He holds your gaze for a weighted second and then drops it back to Junie. "Do you feel better?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, only tips her head against your chest. 

Eddie pulls off her remaining sock and waves it at her. "Don't need this." 

"Do you think she'll throw up if I make her some dinner?" you ask, the kind of question you don't usually get to ask someone else. A luxury to defer judgement.

"Maybe. Does it matter?" 

"I don't want to clean up puke," you say pathetically. 

Eddie softens. "I'll clean it up if she pukes. Don't worry about it." 

You don't have to, you want to say. Of course he doesn't have to. 

"Thank you," you say instead, feeling like you could burst into an entirely fresh wave of tears. 

Again, he looks up at you. His smile fades from a cheesy exuberance to something sweeter, a melty-warm thing that has your breath catching. 

"I'm really sorry for just showing up like that," you say tentatively, flushed with heat as you realise what you've done.  

"Don't be." 

"No, because she's- I know you never-" She's mine alone. You never signed up for this. You can't make yourself say it, distracted by his ever-growing smile. "I should've handled it on my own." 

"Your mom really doesn't understand how much I like her," he tells Junie humorously, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "She doesn't have a clue. How much I like you," he adds, hand on your thigh, his finger stroking a line down the length of her leg.

"You didn't have to-" You try, stopping again as he huffs out of the side of his mouth. 

His hand closes around your thigh. You can feel the heat of each of his fingers, the bulk of every heavy ring. 

"It's okay. I promise," he says seriously.

"I got so freaked out, I just…"  You give up. Whatever. He knows what you're trying to say. Hopefully.

Eddie leans forward to kiss your knee. His eyes close, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly over your thigh. 

You blink to yourself in a vain attempt at processing what's just happened when he asks, "Do you still feel sick?"

"No.” Your chest burns.

"In that case, I'll make dinner. A feast." 

Things start to feel better. Details sink in. Your heart slows. What was only Eddie behind the stovetop becomes his dark hair scraped up and wrapped in a hair tie, his sweatpants and unlaced shoes, his white t-shirt with sharpie writing all over. Sounds filter in; the spoon scraping the bottom of the saucepan and his frenetic humming, the sound of his rubber-bottomed cons squeaking over linoleum. 

Junie doesn't cry so much as whine. You press kisses that are more for you than her into her hair and on her forehead, jogging your knee. She's fine. She's okay, and she's here in your lap, and there's nothing to panic over now. 

You try to push away the lingering worry. In the moment, a million thoughts had coalesced into only one. What if she's dying? Meningitis, an aneurysm, cancer. Anything. And now those thoughts fall away, leaving behind only the sharp smell of the hair remover and the salty stick of tears. 

"Do you think I have time to give her a shower before dinner?" you ask softly, clearing your throat for what feels like the twentieth time today. 

"You got it. I'll simmer. You could have one, too, if you want." 

"Do I look that bad?" 

"Worse." He grins at your expression. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful as always, sweetheart."

You carry Junie into the bathroom. There's no tub and she's too big for the kitchen sink, so a shower it is. You stand her up under warm spray and turn her back so the spray misses her eyes. She smiles at the warm water running down her back. The relief to see her happy can't be understated. You hop in at the same time and clean her off, wash her hair, and bedeck her tiny features in big big kisses.

Wrapped in her baby towel – a pink poncho type thing with a hood – you walk her to the bedroom and dry her off as fast as you can. 

"Which ones?" you ask, holding up two pairs of pajamas. 

Junie points at the pink shirt and bottoms printed in bright red strawberries with light green tops, letting you dress her and plonk her at the end of the bed without any fuss. 

"No socks for you," you say lightly, sitting beside her in your towel. 

"No socks," she agrees. 

Even though Eddie's been good to you, you can't help wishing that he wasn't here. What you want more than anything in that second is for Junie to be asleep and for your head to be wedged firmly under your pillow, the sheets to your shoulders, dead to the world. 

Not truly dead, of course. But a minute of silence. 

Junie doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, sitting in companionable silence and stillness with you. Her head falls onto your arm. 

"Are you tired?" you ask quietly, too exhausted for bubbly talk. 

She sighs. You sigh too. 

Eddie hums from the kitchen. 

He kissed my knee.

You think you might have imagined it, if you're honest. It could've been anything against your stockings, the brush off his palm or the back of a warm knuckle, but you'd seen it. His lips, his face turned toward your thigh.

"I think he likes me," you tell Junie. 

She doesn't say anything. When you look down at her she's already looking up, eyes wide with confusion. 

"He kissed me," you whisper, leaning down. "I don't know about you, junebug, but I only kiss the people I care about. For a long time, that's been a really short list." You bump your nose against hers. 

You've just finished getting into your own pajamas when Eddie calls out, "Girls? I know ladies like yourselves need longer to get ready but the mac and cheese is acting weird." 

"Weird?" you mumble, hooking your hands under Junie's armpits. You'd let her walk if you weren't worried for her foot. 

Eddie has created a working man's feast, three identical plates heaping with food. Hills of mac and cheese topped with bacon bits take up half of each plate, fried broccoli and collard greens the other. They're golden, almost red with spices. 

"You can cook," you say, surprised. 

"Don't sound so shocked," he says defensively. He can only hold his facade for a moment, deflating. "I really can’t. I tried to copy what you do, I've seen it enough times…" He shrugs and flops down into his usual chair. "Don't tell me if it's gross." 

"I doubt it's gross." 

You can't be bothered for the high chair. Junie looks like she might be too tired to move so you take the chance and sit her between you and Eddie behind the smaller portion (though using small at all feels like a lie, he's made a lot of food). She can barely see over the table.

"Did you use two boxes?" you ask, picking up Junie's spoon. 

It's all the perfect temperature for a baby, maybe a little cold for an adult. You're so happy to have somebody else cook for you that you'd die before you complained. 

He taps his nose. You pass Junie her spoon.

"What do you mean?" You tap your own nose in imitation. "I'll know when I look." 

"So don't look. Eat." 

You eat. Without asking him too – because you wouldn’t, you never do – he starts to feed Junie.

He might be the nicest boy on this whole damn planet. You look at him thoughtfully. How come we always end up here? At the kitchen table?

He looks right. Too right. He looks like he’s meant to be here, smiling and talking to your baby in hushed, fond tones, airplaning roasted broccoli towards her mouth. 

-

“You’ll stay to watch a movie?” you ask later, trying to hide how lethargic you are with your hands deep in dishwater. 

Eddie wipes a fleck of water off of your cheek with a rag. "Duh." 

On the couch, Eddie sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re pretending to watch the TV and doing a bad job, your attention stolen over and over by Junie where she sleeps in your lap. Your hand rubs over her small, distended tummy, the other holding her foot carefully. You keep glancing at her toe, much less swollen now and with a healthier complexion, though a cruel line remains from where the hair had cut into her skin. 

You don't touch it, only looking. He worries as a wrinkle appears between your eyebrows. 

Listening intently as he is, he can hear the hitch in your breath. Eddie doesn’t want you to cry again — the first time had been awful enough. Your face covered in tears, coming fast and panicked. It was like you’d hardly noticed you were crying. You’d been so scared that Eddie, despite knowing close to nothing about babies or how to make them feel better, had clung to his calm. He’d stomped down every flicker of panic that had surged and tried his damn best to keep a level head. 

Now, with your sad face and the crisis averted, Eddie feels a pang of terror. Just one. You are completely out of your element, Munson. 

You’re definitely the kind of friends now that can sit on the couch together and not care too much about personal space. Eddie uses this to his advantage and spreads his legs just enough to brush his thigh against yours. You look at him and hide your lingering upset with a small smile. It’s a far cry from the genuine happy grin he’s become familiar with, but you're still beautiful. 

Eddie shuffles across the couch toward you until he can push his hand under your arm. He pulls it to his chest, beware of your tenuously sleeping daughter, and hugs it. 

“I was thinking,” he starts casually, looking down at you. 

Your eyes crease with a playful smile. “Oh yeah?” Like you can’t believe it.

“Yeah, I was,” he says, quiet so as not to wake Junie but extremely passionate. “What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

“Nothing." You laugh under your breath.

He glares, faux-offended. Any real offense is swallowed instantly by the sound of your laugh.

“Hm. Anyway, I was thinking,” he begins again, hand running down your arm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, “that I’d head into the city this weekend. Go to the bookstore ‘n’ the big goodwill by the bus station. I was hoping you’d wanna come with me.” Is he pushing his luck? Maybe. 

You look like you want to say yes, but, “Eddie, I don’t really have the money.”

“I’d pay.” He tries to sell it before you can protest. “I’m asking you to come. Stealing your Sunday. We’d leave early, get breakfast on the way. I don't want to go alone.” I want your company. 

He tries not to show how terrified he is that you’ll say no. 

“I can’t- I couldn’t let you pay for us,” you say, eyes on his chest. 

“Can I tell you something?” You nod. “It would make me… really happy if you did.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t think there’s a way to tell you that won’t involve unveiling his new and shiny feelings for you, feelings that don’t seem to want to slow, or abate, or moderate themselves. Honestly, he doesn’t want them to. 

He wants you to be happy. He wants to take care of you.

It's embarrassing in its intensity. 

You reach over Junie to wrap your hand around his bicep, though you still don’t look like you’re going to say yes. 

He leans in close, tracing the details of your face with a greedy kind of curiosity. “You wouldn’t let me give you anything for the haircut,” he says. “It’s the same, you know? Doing things for the people you care about." 

He says it like the idiot he is, all rough and insincere, like caring about people is dumb. You smile anyways and finally, finally, give him a nod. So small it’s near imperceptible. 

“If you’re sure,” you say. 

“Positive.”

-

Eddie looks good behind the wheel of your car. The wind whips at his hair, curls that had been neat and pretty only an hour ago now starting to frizz. You think the chaos of it suits him. 

He’s singing along to the radio and it’s a song you don’t know. You don’t think Junie knows it either, but she’s signing it like she does, hands flailing in the air and Mr. Bear bouncing in her lap with the force of her dancing. Eddie looks at her in the rear view mirror, beaming brilliantly. 

“Yeah, sing it, junebug!" he encourages. Her voice peaks. 

You laugh and stretch your hands out in your lap, knuckles brushing the sandwiches you’d packed. You’d let Eddie pay for gas, you might even let him buy Junie a book from the bookstore if he’s feeling generous, but you’re really trying to keep his expenses low. Hence, sandwiches. Even now, the idea of him spending money on you makes you feel guilty. 

Deep down – deep, deep down – you want him to. You’re hoping he’ll pick up a book for you, and that fills you with so much shame you have to look away from him, your face to the window. The highway blurs past, the early morning sun lighting the blacktop and bouncing between cars of all kinds coming into the city for a Sunday outing. 

Eddie turns down the radio a tiny bit and reaches across the seat to squeeze your shoulder. “You alright?” he asks without looking at you. 

You tip your head toward his hand. His rings bite into your cheek. 

You’re in the car on a nice day with a nice boy and your pretty baby listening to the radio, the sun at your side and the breeze kissing your warm skin. 

You’d even managed to find a nice shirt to wear. Today is a good day. You won't weigh it down with silly feelings. 

“I’m great.”

He gives you that smile like he doesn’t believe you and his eyes go back to the road. “Can a guy get another sandwich or does he have to beg?” 

You imagine what it might be like to lean over and kiss his cheek. He deserves a good kiss, you think, and then wince as heat blooms from your chest up to your cheeks. You can’t hold in a pleased smile as you click open the Tupperware. 

“Do you want PB&J or bacon and lettuce?” The tomatoes have already been accosted by a ravenous Junie. 

“I’ll have half of whatever you’re having.”

You weren’t going to have one, and you both know that. You offer him half the PB&J and he takes it, eyes flitting between you and the road. You take a showful bite to release him. He gives you a grateful smile in turn. 

Chewing, you take half of the bacon and lettuce sandwich into your hands and pull it apart. You divide the contents and tuck half into one slice to make a quarter sandwich before leaning over the seats to offer it to Junie where she waits in her car seat. She accepts it hungrily. 

One-handed, Eddie pulls the car off of the highway. “There’s a parking garage somewhere around here,” he tells you.

Once he's found it he jumps out to go pay. You turn in your seat and smile at Junie. She's mauling her sandwich, face smeared in butter. 

"Are you ready for some fun?" you ask. 

She looks at you curiously. 

You try again, really smiling. "Are you excited? We're gonna go find a book, something fun like Red Cat, Blue Cat, and we're gonna see the stores and the people and maybe mommy can get you a new teddy." 

A spark of something. She gets happy when you're happy and today's no exception, her tiny features soon plucked up with joy. When you round the car and open her door to wipe down her greasy fingers and face she barely cares, and she receives your loving kisses with a big smile. 

Eddie returns with the parking ticket and slides it onto the dashboard. You leave Junie's door open now he's back to pop the trunk and unfold her stroller. The sound echoes through the parking garage and the sun struggles to find a way in, your arms wracked with goosebumps.

"Hey, junebug," you hear Eddie murmuring. 

He messes with the buckles on her car seat until they pop open, his triumphant laugh almost as pretty as his face. Junie's is prettier, your daughter laughing up a storm as Eddie scoops her up and sits her on his hip. 

He looks like he had when you first met but with ten times the confidence in holding her and a clear affection. Her hands are in his hair like usual, petting and pulling gently. 

"Brush out the tangles for me," he tells her seriously, bumping the door shut. 

She hums like she's agreed to his task and continues her exploring. 

You hang the baby bag over the stroller's handlebar and Eddie sits her in the padded chair. 

"Junie, have I told you how pretty you look today?" he asks, pulling the straps over her shoulders and from between her legs. He uses parentese like you would, distracting her as he locks her in. When the lock click, he plays affectionately with her hair. "You're like a princess. Your mom has talented hands, huh? And a good eye." 

Pleasure from his compliment drips in thick and fast. You bite back a smile and squeeze the clean baby socks in your hands, waiting for him to stand so you can fight them onto Junie’s feet. Ever since her ordeal you’ve been waiting as long as you can before putting on socks and shoes. The first thing you do when you pick her up from daycare is take them off. 

If Eddie thinks you’re overzealous in your fretting he hasn't said anything. He holds his hand out for the socks and you give them to him, nonplussed though you shouldn’t be as he bunches them up and pushes them over her wiggling feet with patience and bemusement. 

“Stay still… Do you want frostbite? Or gangrene?” he asks her.

“Eddie.”

“Sorry." He looks at you guiltily. “In my defense, she doesn’t know what gangrene is.”

“It’s weird, though. To hear you say it like it’s a good thing. S’creepy.”

He squeezes the sole of one of her small feet and stands, much too close to you as he whispers cheerily, “Gangrene. Septicemia. Pneumonia.”

You laugh and push him away from you. “Shut up.”

“You first. Where’re her shoes?” 

You procure them with a smug smile. “You’ll never get them on.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes them, his eyes blazing at the challenge. 

-

“Will you sulk all day?” Eddie asks you.

The sulking is for show. You frown like you’re really angry and tighten your grip on the stroller, the wind ruffling your clothes. After a moment the facade falls away and you smile at him, unable to hide your reluctant affection any longer. “How did you get her to sit still like that? You vex me.” Said with equal parts envy and pride. 

“I vex you,” he says, voice coloured by good humour. 

He’s fallen into step beside you, your jacket tied around his waist. 

You should bring your jacket. In case you get cold, he’d said. 

I don’t want to carry it, you’d said. 

Don’t patronise me.

You glance over the top of the stroller to make sure Junie’s blanket is still in place. She’s quiet. You’ve decided that she’s in shock to be somewhere that isn’t your home or the daycare. 

“Yeah, you vex me. Infuriate me. I’ve been a mom for two years and I can’t get her shoes on without a fight, and you’ve been-“ You stop dead, stutter, and quickly adjust what you'd been saying like it has been a slip up of the tongue rather than a thought you shouldn't entertain.  “You’ve known her for what, three months? And-“

“Four months,” he corrects, sounding much too proud. 

“Four months,” you amend. “And you can do all this stuff that took me years to work out.” You’re a little bit vexed for real. 

He nods like he’s considering what you’ve said before tipping his head. “But…”

You wait. He doesn’t further his point. “But what?”

“Well.” Eddie brushes something off of your arm. “I guess I have a great teacher, right?” His voice hikes up high and he steamrolls, “I just copy you. You didn’t really get to copy anyone.”

You feel something melty hot in your chest, another affection for Eddie to add to a growing list. “Oh.”

He takes your shoulder into his hand and you draw to a pause, his other hand pointing off into the distance. “There’s the bookstore.”

You follow his finger. Across a landscape of cobblestone, situated firmly between a Domino’s pizza place and a cafe with a peppering of metal wrought tables stands Morgan’s Books. To your surprise, it’s a glass-fronted building with a big clean sign made up of red, yellow, and blue. It's a children's bookstore. 

Eddie has obviously tricked you. You turn to glare at him and find him very close. He doesn’t shy away and you try not to in return. You try, but something about his pretty mouth so close sends shocks like pins and needles to your hands and you have to keep walking lest you embarrass yourself. His hand falls from your shoulder and trails down your back. You swear you can feel even the last millimetre of his fingertip before it falls away. 

You get a good look at the landscape ahead and your eyes narrow. Eddie almost bumps into you when you stop abruptly. 

“What?” he asks. 

"There’s, like, a thousand steps.”

“Gross hyperbole," he argues. A gap of quiet furthers your point; while you had been exaggerating, there are a lot of steps, and he needs time to take them all in.

“Is there a way around?”

“Don’t be dumb, sweetheart. You’ll grab June and I’ll carry the stroller.”

“It’s really heavy. Heavier than it looks.”

He grins like a fiend. “I’m strong.”

Junie’s more than happy to be released, less when you take her into your arms and won’t put her down. You help Eddie snap the stroller back up, indicating which lever to pull with the rubber toe of your converse. He kneels down to guide it into place and looks up at you swiftly afterward, self-satisfied and much too happy considering the task afoot. 

“Maybe we should find another way.”

“Y/N,” he says, like your name is inherently funny, like a joke rolled around over his tongue, “I’m starting to get offended.”

You blow air out of the side of your mouth. 

Eddie slugs the stroller under one arm and holds it tight with the other, giving you a very determined smile. “Ready?”

You balance the baby bag over one shoulder and start on the stairs. Junie's heavy but she’s a heavy you’ve grown used to, and she doesn’t complain enough to warrant any stress. 

You’re impressed when Eddie takes each step at your pace and doesn’t break a sweat. “I thought you were a bus boy. What do you bus? Weights?” you ask incredulously.

He laughs. “I don’t bus weights, but amps are heavy, and I’m not a big shot. I don’t have any roadies to carry them for me.”

You feel terrible then for forgettting. Right. He plays music, you think. You’ve never once seen him play any music, on stage or at home. You’ve seen him play guitar over Junie’s leg to tickle her and tap out a rhythm when he’s heating up desserts in your kitchen, but you’ve never seen him play guitar for real. 

“Is that going okay?” you ask, ignoring the small burn beginning to grow in your arms. 

“Bussing? Sure. Why’d you ask?”

“Not bussing, music. I never ask- I’ve never asked you how it’s going.” 

Eddie winces as the stroller starts to open and pulls it tighter under his arm. It takes him a few seconds to calibrate what you’ve said, and he’s quickly reassuring. “What? Why would you worry about that? You have enough to think about without adding my moonlighting at the Hideout.” He says the Hideout like it’s something to be looked down on. You almost trip up a step and Eddie can’t do anything but watch. “Careful," he begs. 

You keep your eyes on your footing until you’re at the very top, worried you'll fall flat on your face and get Junie hurt.. Eddie comes up two behind you and puts the stroller down, wiping his hands together dramatically. 

“Conquered. Great job, team. Especially you,” he says, poking Junie’s cheek. 

She puts her arms out, vying for his attention now she’s had a taste. He raises his eyebrows at her and offers his arms. You hand her over eagerly, arms aching. You can’t imagine what his feel like. 

“I care about it,” you say firmly. It rather than you, but it rings the same. “I want to know, Eddie, I swear. I’m sorry for not asking.”

He looks up from where he’d been making playful faces at Junie to stare at you. It’s not a mean stare, but it unnerves you all the same. 

She pushes a hand into his hair like she always does and starts to try and pull her fingers through it. It’s knottier than usual because of the wind, and she struggles to make sense of it. His eyes fall to her tugging. 

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly. You know it’s meant for you, even if he’s not looking at you. "If there was something worth telling you, I would’ve told you. I don't doubt that you care.”

You don’t feel better. “No, ‘cos-”

“Why are you so upset?” he asks genuinely. 

You hadn’t realised your face revealed the extent of it. “Because we’re friends. You’re the- the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He smiles, sudden and wide. “I’m your best friend?”

“Like we’re twelve?” you deflect. 

“Yeah, like we’re twelve.”

You ignore him and try to cool down. A hot flush attacks your skin as you stretch out the stroller and click the supports back into place, shucking off your baby bag to hang over the handlebar with a relieved sigh. 

Eddie moves Junie to one side. You anticipate his touch before it happens, his free arm behind your back and pulling you to him. “We’re totally best friends. I’m your best friend,” he says smugly, hand curling around your shoulder. It’s a good hug, friendly and warm and heart-racingly close; you can feel his chest on your back, the curve of a pec through thin fabric. 

You turn toward him indulgently but keep your head down. It’s so nice to be hugged that you can’t make yourself move away.

He rubs the top of your arm, the bump of his rings biting into your skin. “You don’t deny it?”

“No. I don’t deny it.”

“Hear that, June?” Again, he calls her June. Not Junie or junebug, June. You like the way he says it. “I’m your mom's best friend. I win.”

You nod happily, warm under his touch.

Wait. “What?”

“She likes me more,” he teases her childishly. 

“Eddie!”

“What? Am I wrong?” He leans away from you and feigns confusion. 

“Yes! Of course you’re wrong! That’s my baby. Give her to me right now." You join in on his melodramatics, grinning even as you continue, “How could you say that? Sicko." 

“That got frosty quickly,” he grumbles, holding her away from you. 

You move in to plaster Junie in kisses. Not apology kisses because you didn’t say anything wrong, but kisses all the same. 

“Can I get in on one of those?”

You huff at him. He bursts into boyish laughter and holds his hands up. “Kidding!”

“Should we go?” Before you say something stupid.

Eddie carries Junie and you push the empty stroller until you're all looking up at the store's bright sign. "This is where you wanted to come?" you ask him, eyes falling to the window where a sign brags a children's reading nook and their Read Before You Buy promotion. 

He shrugs. "Bookstore's a bookstore." 

"No, this is for kids. We're never gonna find what you wanted in here. I doubt they have King of the Rings between Red Cat, Blue Cat and Pony Girl."

"King of the Rings," he repeats jovially. 

"Whatever it's called." 

He pulls a squirming Junie higher up the length of his chest, the fabric of his shirt rides up with her. You pull it down. You're flustered enough, his naked skin is the last thing you need. 

"Sweetheart, I'm sure they'll have what I want," he says flippantly, pushing the door open with his elbow. 

"If you're sure…" you say, following him in

The bookstore smells fancy. You breathe in the scent of plastic wrap and paper, your eyes searching over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and pyramids of craft kits. Box sets of Enid Blyton and A. A. Milne sporting classic, whimsy spines are stacked in a towering and precarious looking arch. Signs on either side promise a children's wonderland inside. You follow Eddie around pen displays and jigsaw puzzles, ducking under the archway with an awed, "Oh, wow." 

"Watch out," he warns quietly, taking a step down into the kids' reading nook. 

You bump the stroller to the bottom of the steps and have to stop, amazed. 

Junie is a picture of you as Eddie sets her down, gazing around the room in shock. There's a lot of older kids scattered throughout on big circle pillows with books in their laps and a guardian beside them, but the real wonder is in the decoration. The walls are bedecked in murals; Kermit and Funnybones, The Very Busy Spider and the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Junie sees Kermit on the walls and gasps, running up to the painting with wide eyes. 

Eddie follows her without saying anything. When he catches up to her, he offers her his hand. She takes it. She's practically shouting, their joined hands restless as excitement courses through her in waves. 

You find two big pillows and a couple of books for Junie to look at. The three of you take to an empty corner and sit, looking over a big picture book full of stills from The Muppets Take Manhattan. Junie makes a lot of excited sounds and nonsense words, talking very confidently though half of it's lost on you both. 

"Kermit," she says, pointing at the page passionately. 

You wrap your arms around her tummy to keep her comfortable and hum. "Yeah, baby. Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo. They're going to New York," you start to describe the page. 

Eddie leans in, his arm pressed to your arm, his skin a heat where it rubs into you as he helps hold open the book. 

The further you read the closer he gets.

Junie gets bored quickly, like toddlers tend to, and wants to go look at the walls again. Eddie stays with the stroller and you pick her up to let her touch her hands to the characters. 

"That's Spot," you tell her quietly, her fingertips brushing over flat fur. "Spot the doggy." 

Junie's never read anything Spot before. He's a popular character. There's three picture books to choose from. You pick up the first, Where's Spot? and offer it to her. 

She likes the look of him. You carry her back to your pillows and struggle to sit back down in the tight gap between the wall and Eddie's knee. He stretches his arms out to take her. . 

"What'd you find, sweetheart?" he murmurs as he balances her on his thigh. 

He reads to her. He has the voice for it, soft and sweet. 

-

"We had sandwiches," you argue, two hours and what feels like fifty stories later. 

Eddie had known before he suggested it that you were gonna fight him on this. He’s managed to end up behind the stroller, weaving between unlucky bystanders as his eyes search for somewhere to eat. 

“And they were awesome."

“Eddie,” you complain softly. 

He peeks at you by his side, grinning at the plastic bag full of books you’d insisted on carrying where it dangles from your fingers. 

You take his smile for teasing and sigh. “Come on. I’ll make dinner when we get home.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love your cooking that’s hours away. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Look, there’s a McDonald’s right there,” he says, pointing toward the yellow ‘M’ sign where it flickers, breaking up a white sky. 

“I’m not hungry,” you say. He senses your proposition before you offer it. “But if you wanna get food, that’s fine.”

“You don’t like McDonald’s?” he asks. 

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Just think of it like- like using the bathroom before a long car ride. You might not need to, but it’s never a bad idea.”

Inside of McDonald’s, Eddie can tell how unhappy you are, your eyes drifting to the menu and your fingers squeezing both handles of the plastic bag. 

He parks Junie’s stroller next to a low table and you slide into the booth beside her. He doesn't sit right away.  

“You remember what I said?” he asks quietly, leaning on the table with one arm, head inclined to yours. 

Your eyes flicker between his face and his arm. You measure his gaze “Doing things for the people you care about,” you say, equally hushed.

Eddie reaches out to squeeze your wrist. “Exactly.” He tries not to squeeze too hard in case his rings dig into your skin. 

When you smile, he grabs the high chair and transfers one unhappy toddler into its constraints. There's a little basket of crayons and colouring papers near the registers that you plunder while he orders. By the time he gets back with a greasy tray of food and drinks Junie's made a masterpiece.

"Is that supposed to be me?" he asks brightly. 

Of course it isn't – there's a shock of blue and a red blob almost shaped like a heart next to the dark printed outline of Ronald McDonald. It's worth the risk of sounding like an idiot because you start to laugh so hard you can't scold him for the desserts. 

After wiping down the highchair's tray with a baby wipe, you peel open Junie's cheeseburger and start to break it into small pieces, blowing on each one vigorously before passing them over. You're about to start on fries when Eddie flicks your hand. 

"Eat," is all he says, swiping her fries out of your reach to copy your process. 

Tray laden with an abundance of bite-sized fast food, she grabs a cheesy looking slice of burger and screams loudly. 

Eddie gawps. "What was that? Is it too hot?" 

You swallow a sip of your drink and the cup sheds condensation like a spattering of raindrops when you put it down. "I think she's having a really good day," you say.. 

"Well fu-" he amends his cuss word quickly, "-dge, me too, junebug. Best day out ever. We got books, burgers, and I'm with my two favourite girls." 

It might have sounded more romantic if he hadn't said it around a mouthful of big mac. You look almost as happy as Junie does anyway, 

-

When Junies just about finished you carry her off into the ladies to change her diaper and freshen up. You have a baby in one arm and a bag full of diapers and bottles and onesies in the other, and you stare into the mirror and can't work out Eddie's angle. 

Eddie is loud and crude and clumsy. He smells like his close friend Mary Jane half the time and he doesn't know how to style his hair. He laughs loud, sings louder. Almost everything about him is unapologetic and brash, his dark looks and ripped up clothes, his van, his smile. 

And he's nice. He's so nice. Down to the bone, maybe down to his soul, there's a kindness that floors you every single time. He smiles and he squeezes and he says sorry for things that aren't his fault. He helps without being asked. How many times now has he knocked the door, found you kneeling on the living room floor folding clothes and thrown himself opposite you? Bet you I can do double what you've done in five minutes flat. Or stationed himself at Benny's for lunch to check you're having a good day? Here's five for the pretty waitress I saw earlier, make sure she gets it, won't you? How many times has he, hair limp and clothes rumpled, burst beaming into the kitchen with enough dessert for a family of five and a gallon of juice? Why wouldn't I get a gallon? Junebug'll have drank half by the time you sit down, sweetheart. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and you can't work out why. 

"Hi, girls," Eddie says when you return. 

He's cleared off the table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Like this, the lean trim of his waist is emphasised, as is the slight curve to the tops of his thighs. 

"Hi," Junie says. You echo her greeting. 

"D'you have fun? Powder your noses?" 

"Can't you tell?" you ask. You did not powder your nose. 

He straightens up and peers at you assessingly. "Definitely. S'like you got prettier, and I thought it was impossible." His voice is sugar sweet by the end, attention on Junie. She's aching to be put down and writhing in your grip, but his voice catches and holds her attention until you're back outside. 

It's cooler. The air cleaner. You put Junie down and clasp her hand firmly in your own, bending at the waist to tell her face to face, "No running off, alright? You hold mommy's hand tight." You squish her little fingers until she giggles. "Okay?" 

"Okay," she says. 

"Okay, thank you." Then, because she looks so sweet and this has been one of the best days of your life, "I love you." 

You kiss her cheek. 

Eddie won't let you push the stroller. "You concentrate on little miss trouble," he says mildly, kicking the brakes with a frown. "I got this. Maybe." 

Half a block to the goodwill. It's not as big as you'd expected but there's a fun furniture section that draws Junies attention. You're reluctant to let her climb on the furniture in case anything is dirty or infested, though you do sit her in a wicker chair for a tree swing and a huge velvet loveseat like she's goldilocks, asking, "How's that? Comfy?"

Hidden away, there's a bookshelf painted green and pink that threatens to topple over hiding a grandfather clock still ticking. You lift Junie up so that the three of you can look at the clock face, a small silver disk with illustrations on either side. A gorgeous swelling of purples and melty blues in a ring behind the man in the moon. The sun, a buttery yellow buffeted by white-blue clouds. 

"Grand," Eddie praises. 

"What did you want to come here for?" 

He grins at you and nods his head to the left. "It's over there." 

'It' ends up being a clothes rack longer than your trailer home partitioned by size. Every t-shirt different but bragging the same premise – band merchandise. A riot of rock bands peppered in popular duo's like Tears for Fears and the occasional Cyndi Lauper tour shirt, each one sticking out like a sore thumb; a rainbow array besides faded blacks and slate greys. 

"Why'd they have so many?" 

Eddie shrugs, though he tries to explain his theory anyways. "There's a venue maybe… four blocks away? That has these vendors outside all the time shelling knock-offs."

"So these are knock-offs?" 

"Most of them. They're usually in good condition though." 

He's right. You find all kinds of shirts in varying qualities. Some obviously real, thick fabric and perfect prints. He picks up a Judas Priest tour shirt that he claims to be the real deal, a Metallica long sleeve that most certainly is not. There's a Twisted Sister shirt with a mysterious brown stain and a Ghoulie Girls muscle tee that's almost completely split down one side. 

You shuffle through the things in your size, absent-minded. Junie's not interested in the slightest and is starting to complain. You fend off an oncoming tantrum with a pack of fruit snacks, offering them to her one at a time. 

Eddie whistles where he's standing a short distance away, "Oh, fuck." 

He unhooks a hanger and holds it out, amazed. "Oh, shit." 

"Eddie," you chastise. Not because you care, but Junie saying either of those words at daycare would suck. 

"Sorry, sorry. You like these guys, right?" He holds up a t-shirt for The Mamas and The Papas, a group from the sixties. It looks new. 

It's the only cassette you own where you can stand to listen to both sides all the way through. "Yeah. Like Cass Elliott's stuff more." 

"Who's that?" 

You point at Elliott on the shirt. "Her." 

"Guess how much they want for it," he demands.

You think. Junie whines for another snack and you give her the packet. "Ten dollars?" 

"A dollar." He passes the shirt to you so you can see it for yourself and leans down to bundle up your sighing daughter. She can't decide whether she's enjoying it for a good few seconds, her annoyance at being somewhere this underwhelming for so long clear but fading as Eddie shushes her gently. "Isn't that sick?" he asks you. 

"It would be sick, if you liked them." 

He shrugs. "I'll wear it as pajamas. A dollar for a shirt? You can't steal it that cheap." 

You laugh and drop it into his basket. He bumps his shoulder into yours until you move down the rack, his fingers searching for something with focus. You're in awe at how he's handling it, a basket heavy in the crook of his elbow and Junie on his hip trying to share her fruit snacks with him unsuccessfully. 

"Ah-ha!" He pulls out a black t-shirt. The back to you, you can't tell what's so interesting about it until he flips it around. "What do you think?" 

It's the same The Mamas and The Papas shirt. 

"You want?" he asks. 

You check the price tag before answering and find yourself laughing gleefully, almost smug. "Hey, this one's fifty cents." 

He gasps. "What?" 

"I can afford that one myself." 

He pulls it out of your hand, quick but not cruel, and tucks it into the basket. "Don't care. Wanna see if they have one in Junie's size?" 

"They won't." 

"What about a small and we cut the excess off? She can wear it like a dress. We'll all match." 

Eddie picks up a bunch of t-shirts for you, some funny, a lot plain bad. You wonder if you're being made fun of but from the gleeful expression on his face you know he's just having a good time. It's sweet, really, how he seems to pick the more feminine looking ones for you. You try your best to calculate how much he's spending on you – it feels tacky and silly, but urgent – and end up losing the thread. He must've passed ten dollars by now. It makes you feel sick. 

You see your saving grace across the way. 

"Oh my god!" you feign surprise. Both Eddie and Junie look up at you, startled. "You know what mommy just saw?" 

Junie perks up. 

"What did I just see? What did mommy see?" you encourage. 

"What?" she asks. 

"I saw… teddies!" 

"Mr. Bear?" she asks. 

You beam at her. "Mr. Bear's brothers and sisters, I think. Should we go look at them?" 

She says yes and then something else you don't catch, squirming aggressively to be put down.

Eddie says, "Sorry sorry sorry," and lets her down gently.

She snatches your hand and starts to tug you away. You glance over your shoulder to make sure Eddie's following you and he is, a melty-warm smile on his face. You navigate the store floor and almost knock down a bucket of hats with the stroller on the way to the teddies. There's a few of them, all lined up in a row next to jigsaw puzzles and old board games. 

"I didn't think this through," you say, watching as Junie picks through the teddies with a huge smile on her face. She starts to hug them towards her and you try not to cringe. 

"You can scrub her when we go home," Eddie assures you leaning against the stroller, hair behind his ears.

You grab the end of a curl and pull it back in front of his face, messing with it until it falls the way you want it to. He stays very still. "I might need to de-flea her." 

He laughs and it's a shock, an abrupt sound that makes your chest ache with fondness. 

"You might. I got some tea tree oil lying around somewhere if you need it," he says. 

"And if she gets dermatitis?" 

His grins turns embarrassed. "I don't know what that is."

"It's like-" You tilt your head to the side to mimic his own and drop your hand from his hair. "It's gross. Like a bad rash." 

"Oh, then we'll give her a tomato soup bath." 

You burst into laughter and have to grab his arm to stop from toppling over, or at least that's what you tell yourself. "That's for skunks," you manage to tell him, giggling loudly. 

"Shit, really?"

You nod at him, wanting to kiss the sheepishness straight off of his lips. "You're thinking of an oats bath," you say. "Oats are good for the skin. And milk." 

"So we just rub her down with oatmeal. Case solved." 

Your hand rubs over the curve of his forearm until you reach the cold bite of his chain bracelet. It brings your attention back to what it is you're doing. You pull your hand away. 

You have enough money to get Junie any teddy she wants. You'd made sure of that. You'll just have to hide the train in your tights and wear your waitressing skirt low on your hips for a week or three until you can afford a new pair of pantyhose. 

You move to kneel next to Junie. She's pulled every teddy off the shelf and sits half-buried in them, talking a hundred words a minute. You think she might be make-believing, catching the slightest difference in her tone as she shakes one bear and then the other. 

After checking the price tags stuck sloppily to each ear, you realise you can afford two. 

Best day ever. 

"Junie," you say with intent, heavy so she'll look at you. "I want you to pick your two favourite bears. Yeah? Pick which ones you like the best. And we're gonna take them home, okay? Give them a bath, brush out their fur, get them some jammies." 

Watching the way her expression changes as she realises what you're saying is confirmation. This is the best day ever. 

She decides eventually on one too many. There's a pastel green-blue rabbit with floppy ears and a ribbon tied around his neck, half a face of whiskers that make him quite charming and a worn tail. Next to him is a classic teddy bear who could be Mr. Bear's younger brother who seems in very good condition. Last, a bigger, softer golden teddy with an enamel nose and eyes lies over her lap.

You can't afford all three. 

You've barely opened your mouth to tell her, a weak smile on your lips ready to placate when Eddie says, "The rabbit is classic. You'll have to let me get her that one." 

"Eddie," you say, looking up at him as you shake your head, "you can't. I can't let you." 

"She'll have to share him with me, obviously. He's punk rock." 

It's the least punk rock plushie you've ever seen. 

"Eddie," you say again, quietly. 

He scoops the hair away from his face like he's going to tie it up. "Y/N." He says your name expectantly. When you don't budge he lets his hair fall back to his shoulders and turns serious. "You can pay me back, if you want to." 

"Really?" 

"Only for the rabbit." 

You purse your lips to fight a smile. 

Junie throws herself into your lap with her new treasures. "For the rabbit," she parrots factually, gazing up at you with eyes full of content. Her small smile means everything. 

"He's a bunny," you murmur, fingers brushing his rough ear. 

"He's sweet." Eddie crouches in front of you. He smells like something nice though you can't think of what it is. Cologne, something dark and deep hiding under a woody scent. Maybe sandalwood. His knee taps your thigh and his hand wraps around your shoulder for balance. "Got a dirty nose though. Who does that remind you of?"

You giggle and tap Junie's nose. "I wonder." 

-

Down what feels like a thousand steps and back into the parking garage, your legs are hurting in the best way and Junie's half asleep in her stroller. You'd reluctantly let her keep the blue-green rabbit in hand, and she snuggles him close to her chest. 

"I'm actually genuinely worried she's gonna get something from him," you confide. 

Eddie weaves his arm through yours. "Like rabies?" 

"A rash." 

"I'm allergic to gain detergent tablets," he says, his hand slipping away from you so he can put both on his hips. "When I moved in with my Uncle Wayne he didn't know that, obviously, not at first. We didn't notice for a while. One day I'm scratching my chest and he says to me, boy, what are you doing always itching like that? You ever take a shower?" He impersonates his uncle's disappointed frown.

You laugh. "Poor baby." 

"I mean, I probably wasn't showering." He laughs. "I was like, wow, thanks Uncle Wayne, I love you too.

"He lifts my shirt up in the middle of the kitchen and we both just stare at this rash. It was the first time I'd really noticed. I didn't… I was a skinny kid, I didn't really find any pleasure in looking at myself. And- He got so serious. Asking me if I was okay, if school was stressing me out." 

"He thought you were hurting yourself?" 

"In a way… It wasn't the first time he tried to get me to talk about how I was feeling, but it was the first time I thought- I mean, the first time I realised that it was permanent. That we were-" He cuts off with a laugh. "I'm being weird."

"No weirder than usual," you tease. Your expression softens. 

You slow, trying to convey how much you want to hear it with a smile. You don't want to say something that'll weigh on the impossibly light mood you're both in; the ground practically glows yellow under your shoes, the two of you walking on sunshine or something remarkably similar. 

"I guess I realised he was gonna take care of me. I told him all about school, stuff I'd been lying about, how the Walton twins kept taking my lunch money, how I was failing algebra. How much I," he licks his lips and then smiles, "how much I missed my mom." 

"Do you still miss her a lot?" you ask, though you know the answer. 

"Yeah, I do. I don't remember everything, but I remember the way she talked sometimes. I don't remember her voice," he concedes, "just… the way she moved. She would lean back whenever I was getting into trouble, and she'd get this look on her face like I was the funniest thing on the planet." 

You grin at him. Your cheeks ache from what must be a hundred smiles today. It's a really nice memory to have. 

"You are pretty funny," you say.

"What was that? You think I'm pretty and funny? Baby, you spoil me." 

You stop altogether and press your fists into your eyes, defeated. "I should've seen that one coming." 

"Yeah, you should've." 

Soft snores, so quiet you almost miss them. By the time you've got back to your car Junie's sleeping with her chin to her chest and the rabbit's ear held tight in her small hand. 

"Will she wake up?" Eddie asks quietly. 

"Not if I'm very, very careful," you whisper. 

You scoop her up and tuck her into her carseat, holding your breath all the while. Eddie tries his best to fold down the stroller. 

You emerge from the backseat and make a soft pitying sound. "Stuck?" 

"I can do it," he promises, head and face hidden behind the padded seat. His hands fight with the metal bars holding it in place. Again, you tap the right strut with your shoe to help him out. 

He says thank you but refuses to look at you. You swear you're gonna kiss his cheek this time for real because he deserves one and you really want to give him one, but he puts the stroller into the trunk and touches your waist as he opens the driver's side. Any bravery gets turned into mush. 

He rolls down the window and sticks his head out, ever amused. "Are you coming?" 

You pause at the door and get closer than you mean to, close enough to find yourself distracted by the beauty mark along his jawline. 

"You want me to drive?" you ask. 

"No, sweetheart. You're good." 

You smile at each other. It's a strange sort of smile, strange to be taller than him, strange to have your faces this near. There's a lot to say but maybe now isn't the right time to say it, or maybe now is exactly when you should, and his face lifts up just a touch and your hands feel heavy at your sides.

"Eddie…" 

You close your fingers over the door, braced as his body turns to yours. You get the sense that he's waiting for you to say – or do – something. To lean down. To take the leap. 

He's the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

You waver. 

"You know," he says lightly, blinking his long lashes at you in a way that has your heart skipping beat after beat, "if we hurry, I think we can get on the highway before the work rush. We'll be back in Hawkins before dark." 

You bring your hand to his cheek. A sorry and a thank you at the same time. "I don't want to be back in Hawkins before dark." I really want to spend more time with you. 

"I'll crawl." 

You press your lips together, tongue in your cheek to stop from giggling like a loser as you walk around the hood and climb in. He turns the key in the ignition and switches off the radio before it can wake up Junie. True to his word, Eddie goes what must be a half a mile an hour out of the parking garage. The car behind you beeps aggressively. 

Your eyes flicker between the rearview and his grinning face. "What are you- oh." 

"Crawling," he murmurs smugly. 

The sun starts its slow descent. You use his knee for leverage and pull down his sun visor, then your own, blocking the light. Eddie says, "Thank you," very sweetly and you get comfortable and clip yourself in, anticipating a long drive home. 

The stores turn on their neon, fast food and take out restaurants open for the night. The smell of warm oregano and olive oil is strong as you drive through the side avenue past a pizza place with its door thrown open. 

Eddie asks if you're hungry and you decline. He takes it with grace and doesn't say much besides passing commentary until you realise he's going the wrong way. 

"Eddie," you start. 

"I know. Just- one last thing. Let me get one more thing and then we'll go home and you never have to let me spend money on you ever again." 

You look over his pinched, pleading brows and his slight pout for any insincerity and find it in droves. "Until Friday," you say, dejected.

"Now you're getting it." 

He pulls up to a small bakery and weasels his way inside. You wait, car idling, hands rubbing over the cracked leather of your seats wondering what sweet treat he's going to emerge with. 

You have a nightmare – a heaping bag of donuts and shortbread and pastries, things you could never pay him back for, more to add to the impossible pile of things he's given you. 

Doing things for the people you care about, you repeat to yourself wearily. 

You hadn't expected anything for the haircut, but this is more than a haircut. It's difficult not to think of every dollar as an attribute of every hour he's worked. What makes you deserving of his literal physical labour? 

I didn't force him. He likes me. 

He certainly looks like he likes you as he appears again, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans and wielding a flat looking plastic platter with an exuberant expression. He almost drops them trying to show you. Your heart shoots into your throat.

He's still chuckling when he throws himself into the driver's side. "Shit, did you see that? Almost lost 'em. Here, sweet thing. Hold the sweets. Makes sense, right? Sweet thing holding sweet things."  

You accept the tray of what looks like a rainbow of blobs and go to peel off the lid. "Can I?" you ask. 

"Of course you can." 

You pull off the lid. Twelve cupcakes of all different colours in rows of four. The first four are chocolate cupcakes, one with green icing shaped like a frog, one with a white rabbit, one with an orange fox and one with a blue fish. The second row seems fancier. By the third and fourth row there's no pattern, just an assortment of flavours and decorations, chocolate curls and glitter, a half a strawberry, a smattering of mini marshmallows. 

"What flavours that one?" you ask, pointing at a golden cake topped with multicoloured icing, a swirl covered in little crystal like sprinkles. 

"I don't have a clue. I picked the first four and then realised it was taking too long. Told 'em to give me whatever."

"Eager to get back?" 

"Eager as a cry for life. Try it." 

"You don't want one before you start driving?" you ask. 

"I'll try that one after you." 

You peel back crisp, metallic shiny paper and take a cautious bite. It's a bourbon vanilla cake with a coffee flavour buttercream to cut the sweetness. You can't tell whether you like it or not at first, so you take another bite. 

"Leave some for me." 

"Sorry!" you say through a giggly mouthful. "Here." 

He has both hands on the wheel. You don't know what possesses you – though you're starting to wonder if it can be called possession at all, more like a hunger that won't let things lie – to do it, but you bring the cupcake up to his face and hold it so he can take a bite. 

He licks a big dollop of icing as it threatens to fall down his chin, head tilted high. "Oh my god. What is that? Is that coffee?" 

"I think so." 

"Okay, awesome. Let's try another one." 

"What?" 

"Let's try another one. There's still eleven left! We can save the cute ones for Juniper the Loveliest, but that's still a ton of flavours. C'mon, let me try the one with the chocolate curl. If I remember, it has white chocolate melted inside." 

"If you remember?" you ask, peeling back the paper of his requested cupcake. "You've had these before?" 

"A long time ago." 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder and watch his lashes kiss. "Here," you say warmly. 

He accepts the proferred cake and takes a good bite. His eyes roll back into his head dramatically and he goes stiff, shoulders tense and then suddenly not. You watch the muscle of his bicep flex as he tips his head back in pleasure. 

You chortle and you're so happy you don't care how silly you sound, nor how unattractive you might look as you hit him in the arm. "Stop! You're enjoying it too much!" 

"I'm enjoying it the right amount! Try it, try it," he says quickly. His eyes flick back to the tray. "I wanna try that strawberry one next." 

"Watch the road, Munson, god! I'll pass you whatever one you want, just don't crash the car!" 

You forget yourselves. Laughing, eating icing with your noses scrunched up, you don't remember to stay hushed, and soon Junie's awake and annoyed. 

You worry for a second that her crying will dampen the mood, but Eddie beams wider still. He's more smile than boy. 

"Junie baby! What cupcake do you want, sweetheart?" he asks her, watching her in the rearview mirror. 

"Cake?" she asks. 

"Cupcake! Yeah, baby, what one do you want? There's a froggy and a fishy and a bunny-" He stops to take a turn onto the highway. The road evens out underneath, the plastic tray stops crinkling. "And a fox," he finishes. "All for you." 

You twist in your seat, bunny and fish held in your hands. "Fishy or bunny?" you echo. 

"Fishy and bunny," she says clumsily, eyes widened with excitement. 

"Just one for now, baby. Let's pick the bunny," you say gently.

There's no hopes of her eating it cleanly. You don't bother with any precaution. It's your car and her seat and her clothes and if she wants to cover it all in soft fondant you don't mind, anything she wants if you get to see this look on her face. Pure happiness, her eyes closing in bliss as she takes her first bite. 

"Good, huh?" Eddie asks, speaking glances at her. 

"Good!" she says loudly, cheeks plastered in white icing and fluffy golden crumbs. 

Then, like the good girl she is, she tries to offer up the cupcake and almost drops it. 

"S'that for me? Aw, you keep it. You keep it. Mom's gonna share hers with me." He grins at you. "Isn't that right?" 

You share that entire tray of cupcakes right there in the car. By the time you get home, back to Hawkins, it's dark, your stomach hurts, and every cupcake bears two missing bites. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | multi-chapter

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

Headcanon: Sometimes Eddie likes it better when you’re asleep

Warnings: 18+ only, reader is at college, unprotected sex, overstimulation, brief cockwarming, eddie’s miracle recovery period, masturbation, consensual somnophilia, drug use ie consensual smoking of weed that makes you sleepy, objectification & degradation. I think it’s fair to say this falls in the perv!eddie category. Smut immediately under the cut. 

Word count: ~3,200 

A/N: In a tale as old as time, the drabble I had planned is now a think piece.

Keep reading

[pearlsnshells]

idk if this has been done already

[evilkaeya]

Nancy: excuse me she asked for no pickles

Robin: <3

-

Jonathan, high as hell: excuse me he asked for….. for?

Argyle: no pickles my dude

Jonathan: no pickles yeah

-

Eddie: excuse me he asked for extra pickles

Steve: NO I DID NOT 

[dreaminginpencil]

Don’t yell at me tumblr, there’s no nips or dicks.

Come get your Steddie fix. This took forever.

[pinkchubbiebunnie-deactivated20]

Eat Me Up Alive

ADHD!Eddie Munson x Fem!Thick!Reader 

aka the Sub!Eddie “reverse size kink” fic 

Summary: 

Eddie is being particularly annoying to you one day, and an impressive show of force from you accidentally triggers something within him, and causes him to discover something kinky he never knew about himself. Rather than just come right out and say it, he continues to annoy you in order to set you off again. And when things come to a head - he’s not the the only one feeling those sparks. 

Sub!ADHD!Eddie Munson x Fem!Thick!Reader. Smut. No Upside Down AU. 

Masterlist 

AO3 Link 

make sure to follow my library blog @bunnieslibrary and turn on notifications there if you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic <3 

also this wasn’t requested but @astralsweetness whispered it into my ear and I had to make it happen. shout out to you babe. #tuna 

Word Count: 11,200 

okay so this fic is pretty wild and the warnings list is pretty long, so to be kind to others and people who reblog this, I am gonna put the full warnings list and the author’s notes under the cut. so if you are curious about those, click through - though if you read the warnings and the fic is not for you, I fully understand. but know, this is a smut fic. 

Keep reading

[queenimmadolla]

OKAY OKAY FOR PENNY AND DAD!EDDIE

So reader is baking cookies for Penny to take in her lunch and she steps out and asks them to take them out for her. Big mistake. Reader comes back to find Eddie and Penny red handed and there are like two cookies left so now she has to make a whole new batch :/

loved writing this one and hope everyone likes the new addition to the fam ;) steve’s SO is implied to be another character from (CYM) but i also like the idea of inserting readers into the scenario with him which is why no name or description is provided. happy reading, and PLEASE let me know if you like it. as always, reblogs are appreciated!!! took a little inspiration from look who’s talking :)

Cookies ‘n Clean - Fall of ‘91 (young parents!Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

masterlist

summary: if anyone had told you you’d be having this type of conversation with a four year old while making cookies, you definitely wouldn’t have believed them. and eddie still can’t say no to your daughter.

warnings: fluff, talk of assigned sex and gender identity (keep in mind, this conversation is with a child so it may not be as in depth as some would like, it is also based on a conversation i had with my little nephew), mentions of colic, judgement free zone

word count: 2.4k+

“Shit,” You mumbled, hurriedly wiping your hands of any dough on a kitchen towel before rushing over to where the phone rang on its holder.


“Hello?” You spoke into the receiver, shouldering the phone before you went back to mixing the chocolate chips with the dough in the large bowl over the counter.


“Hey!” Your best friend’s voice sounded a bit faraway, like she’d stepped away from the phone while she rang you and rushed back once you’d picked up. “Sorry if you’re busy—wait, are you busy?”


“Uhhh,” You glanced around at the kitchen counter, covered with baking materials and flour. The floor looked no better, the flour fall out on the floor hand tiny little handprints pressed into it, baby Wayne had been working on a masterpiece before Eddie came to the rescue and hauled him off for a bath. Penny had gone with him, having given herself the title of Daddy’s Little Helper. Penny’s first day of preschool was tomorrow, and you had wanted to make her some cookies, what with how big of a fucking deal it was that your four year old was approaching her school days. It kind of scared you, actually. 

“No, not really. Why? What’s up?”

“I’m pretty sure Winnie’s got colic, she’s down for a nap right now, but I was hoping I could borrow that book you had about it. I’m going crazy over here, I feel so bad when she’s screaming like that, and Steve starts crying whenever she cries.” Of course Harrington would, he was big softie for his newborn.


“Yeah, of course. Let me just put these cookies I’m making into the oven, and then I’ll bring it over.” You could hear the heavy sigh of relief she heaved.


“Thank you so much. I owe you one.”

Once you’d hung up, you finished mixing everything together and began placing the cookie dough on the parchment covered baking sheet.

“Eddie?” You called out into the hall before returning to the kitchen to slide the cookies into the oven and setting the timer.

He appeared at the hallway entrance, leaning against the wall and holding the baby coddled in a comically large towel with Penny in tow.

You snapped yourself out of your stare—God, seeing that man with kids, especially your own, would never fail to get you going—and Eddie gave you a knowing smirk.

“I’m gonna run a book over to casa de Harrington, I put the cookies in the oven already, can you just take them out when the timer goes off?”

“I think I can manage to do that. Not a hundred percent sure, but I’ll give it a go.” He teased, as you made your way over to give him a smooch, you could smell the baby shampoo he’d used on your son.

You turned your attention to your baby in his arms, just a little over a year old. Ever the grump, he didn’t appear too happy with the event he’d been recently subjected to. Though, he never looked like he enjoyed most things. He had his dad’s natural poker face. Always looked slightly intimidating until you started talking to him. 

“Mama will be right back, Waynie.” You cooed, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek as your fingers danced gently against his little stomach rolls to tickle him. His grumpy face immediately split into a wide smile, you could see the four little teeth he had along with a new one that was starting to break through his gums.


He giggled and went to reach for you, face immediately dropping back into a scowl as if to say ‘why would you even tease me like that?’ when you forced yourself to step away.

If you picked him up, you’d never leave.


Penny locked her arms around your legs in a quick farewell hug before she went back to asking her dad a stream of questions (her latest fad, she had to know the reason behind everything) related to why ‘Way’ got to pee in the bath and she couldn’t. 

The last thing you heard—and you made sure not to stick around too long after that—was, “Daddy, how come Way has a wom down thewe? I don’t go one of dose. Did I? Does it fa’ off?”

Good luck, baby.

About an hour later, much longer than you had thought you’d be away, you finally made it back home.

Winnie had woken up a little into what was supposed to be your quick drop off, and boy did that baby like to scream and cry. You felt bad watching the new parents struggle so you’d attempted to help, trying to sooth her while Steve squeezed in a quick shower and your friend had disappeared to pump. Poor thing looked like her boobs were gonna pop any second, and not that there even was a good way, but it wasn’t in the good way.

They’d both returned at the same time, ready to take on their daughter as you coached them in how to position her and gave them some other new parent advice. Ironic, what with you having become a mother pretty young. 

You opened the front door, lips pursing at the immediate sight that greeted you, thanks to the position of the kitchen being directly in front of it.


“Seriously?”

Penny beamed at you from her seat at the table, wiggling in her booster seat. “Hi, mama! Wook! Daddy and me and are eatin’ cookies!”


“I can see that,” You mused, eyeing the nearly empty baking sheet before them. Of course Eddie hadn’t bothered putting them on a plate.


Eddie at least had the decency to appear sheepish, as he finished off the cookie in his mouth. 

“Hi, baby, how’d it go?” An obvious attempt to distract you.


“Fine, Harrington’s got his handful over there. Remind me to ask him in a couple of months if he still wants five more of them. Hey, by the way, what the f—’’ You trailed off, eyeing your innocent four year old and the baby paying not even an ounce of attention in his highchair. “—udge, man. Where are the cookies??”


He rubbed the back of his neck, biting back a smile.


“Between me and Little bitty pretty one,” Penny giggled at the use of one of the nicknames her daddy had given her. It was her favorite, and Eddie could clearly tell, grinning over at her in response. “Gone, I’m so sorry babe. I took a bite of one, she asked for one, and then we just couldn’t stop.”

Penny gave him a look that made him sigh. “Alright, fine. I couldn’t stop.” 

He’d cut her off after three, already not eager for how difficult it was going to be to put her to bed tonight. And the night before her first day of preschool—he knew full well he’d cry when they’d drop her off—she was just so hard to deny. Eddie blamed that on you, if she didn’t look so much like you, he’d have an easier time saying no.

Obviously, you loved your husband and your family dearly. But you were incredibly annoyed, you didn’t like to use pre-made cookie dough often, yours was made out of scratch (and clearly why Eddie hadn’t been able to restrain himself or Penny) meaning you’d have to do it all over again so Penny would have them for tomorrow.


With a sigh, you grabbed your still dirty apron from the hook it was placed on and slipped it back on, tying the strings around your waist. “It’s fine, I’ll make some more.”

The guilt must have been seeping in because Eddie immediately stood up and made his way to your side. “I’ll help! It’ll be faster that way, and I wouldn’t mind learning how to make them myself.”


“Me, too! I can help, too, mama!” Penny comically pushed her seat back from the table and Eddie went back over to help lower her down. “I can mix!”


He laughed as he picked her right back up and placed her back in her seat. “Then you need to be at the table to do that, sweetheart.”


“See, we got a whole little bakery going on—Hey!” Eddie managed to move aside, just barely avoiding the baby spoon flung at him. His eyes followed the direction it had come from, smirking in amusement at his son’s poker face. Wayne hadn’t appreciated seeing you upset, and being a mama’s boy, had stepped up to defend you.


Or maybe he just felt left out. He was still a mama’s boy nonetheless.

You walked over, pulling him out of his high chair. “Aw, Waynie baby wants to help, too. So sweet. Can mama have a kiss?”


You raised him to your face and he immediately placed his little hands on the side of your face to give you a drooly kiss, or rather his version of a kiss. He kind of just tried to nom on your face.

“Not sure how throwing utensils at me is offering to help, but he’s cute so I’m gonna let him get away with it.” With one last kiss to his head, you ran your hands through his curls—he had fluff on the sides of his head, but most of his curly hair ran down the center of his head, giving him something of a curly mohawk which his dad adored—before handing him over to Eddie, while you raided the cabinets for more ingredients.


Eddie helped shift some of the bowls around before a realization dawned on him and he groaned. “They’re both gonna need a bath after this."


That seemed to catch Penny’s attention, she piped up from her spot at the table, “OH YEAH, DADDY! How comes I don’t have uh penis?”


You did a double take, blinking hard over at her before you turned to your husband who was already watching you with a smirk. “You still haven’t told her?”


“Oh no,” he laughed, and so did Wayne, though he only did it because he was amused with his dad laughing. “We agreed that if we had a boy I would explain it, and if we had a girl, you would explain it to her. There’s our girl, honey.”

You shoulders slumped in defeat. Damn, you did remember saying that. 

“I’ll remember this,” You threatened, all smiles despite the circumstances.

“She’s waiting, hon.” He kissed the top of your head, still chuckling as he moved to open the fridge and grab the butter with the arm that wasn’t holding Wayne.

“You don’t have a penis, because you were born with different parts. See, mommy has the same thing as you. But daddy has a penis, just like Wayne.”

It looked like the wheels were turning in her head. “ ’S because Way is a boy and imma girl?”

You could tell Eddie was trying to act like he wasn’t actively listening, but there was only so many times he could open and close the fridge when most of the ingredients are already out on the counter.

“In this case, yes. But not always, sometimes boys have penises, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes girls have vaginas—that’s what ours are called—and sometimes they don’t. What we have down there doesn’t always make us a boy or a girl. Sometimes it doesn’t make us either. It all depends on the person, and who we are.” 

You grabbed the little bowl containing a little bit of extra dough you had from earlier, and a bag of chocolate chips, setting them down in front of her with a wooden spoon. If anyone had told you you’d be having this type of conversation with a four year old while making cookies, you definitely wouldn’t have believed them. 

Penny immediately picked up the spoon, waving it around in the air. “So I can be a boy?”

“Of course, if that’s who you are, absolutely.” You poured a couple of chocolate chips into the bowl, and made a mental note to watch her while she mixed it when she began eyeing the chocolate chips with longing.


“O’ a girl?”

“Yup. You can be a girl.”


“Whatuf I dunwana be a girl o’ boy?”


“Then you don’t have to.”

“Whatuf I wanna be boff?”

“Then you can be both.”

“Okay! I few wike imma girl wight now. ’S dat okay?”


You loved her innocence so much, there wasn’t an ounce of judgment in her little body, she was so accepting. It scared you to be sending her into the real world like this, where you had no real way of keeping her away from the negativity, where she’d be exposed to it. But you and Eddie were determined to raise her to be a good person, regardless of who she turned out to be once she truly began to discover things for herself.

“Yes, baby. You can be whoever you want. Just remember, no matter what, you’re always gonna be my baby.”

Penny seemed to be losing interest in the topic as she had started to mix the chocolate chips in with the spoon. “Wook, mama! Imma cook!”


“Yes, you are. And if you don’t steal out of the bowl, you can lick the spoon.” 

You could tell she wouldn’t be trying to eat the cookie dough with that promise having been made so you returned to your place by Eddie’s side. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He was staring at you in awe, a small smile on his face as he cradled Wayne to his chest. Apparently, he was daddy’s boy for the moment, snuggling right into Eddie.


“I just really lucked out with you. Really glad I knocked you up.”

“You’re so romantic.”

“I’m also stealing a lot of what you just said, by the way. It was really good and I wasn’t too sure of how I was gonna explain it when he starts asking questions. Thanks, honey. There’s a ton of butter in that, by the way, I got pretty distracted.”

“That’s okay, I’m planning on getting distracted while you try to bathe the both of them later.”

“That’s fair,” He grinned, leaning in for a kiss. Wayne babbled in protest as he was squished between your bodies.

Two hours later, the cookies were plated and cooling on the counter.


You and Eddie were both kneeling in front of the bath, shirts absolutely soaked due to some heavy splashing as you made sure Penny and Wayne were squeaky clean.

“I knew you didn’t mean it.” His lips were curled up into a smug smirk.


“Shut up.” You laughed, squeezing your eyes shut when Wayne began to slap his hands on the surface of the water again.

“God, I love you.”


[queenimmadolla]

THREE MEN AND A BABY - Summer of 87’

(young parents!Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

more dad!eddie can be found on my masterlist

summary: . . you leave eddie to watch your newborn with some ‘help’ (they don’t really do anything) from jonathan and argyle.

a/n: everyone lives in Hawkins because i said so. as always, no beta so mistakes will be fixed later.

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“Dude.”  Argyle leaned in for a closer look, staring deeply into the unimpressed, brown eyes peering up at him from her place in her bouncer, tiny fists curled near her head, fuzzy with dark curls. “You had a baby.” Eddie snickered while Jonathan shook his head in amusement. “Yeah, I know that, man.” “No—you don’t get it, man! Like, you had a baby. You’re a dad. She is composed of half of your DNA. The fruit of your looms!” Jonathan choked on the cold pizza he’d been scarfing down at that bit of Argyle’s rant. “She’s—Oh, she got your eyes, too.”  Argyle ended on a coo, a finger reaching down to run over her soft, chubby cheek. From the moment you and Eddie brought Penny home three weeks ago, you’d been attached to her. Utterly and completely obsessed with the perfect little being your body had spent months creating. While you’d been initially incredibly hesitant to meet her—coherently, at least, she’d been placed on your chest briefly when you’d been having a horrible out of body experience from the pain of having just pushed her out seconds before—it was hard for you to put her down now. You blamed that newborn baby smell. It was your weakness, if she was cradled against you, your head was angled down to sniff at her hair. You loved bonding with her in general, but your mother had made sure Eddie knew to not let you withdraw from society once Penny came, and then she’d told Eddie all about Postpartum Depression, effectively scaring the shit out of him. So that’s how you ended up having a girl’s day with Nancy, Eden and Robin. Sure, you’d started crying after showering your little baby in kisses and love and you’d had to be literally dragged out by the girls but Eddie knew you’d have a good time.

Just like he knew he could totally handle Penny on his own. Jonathan and Argyle had come along with the girls, but both were entirely too curious about Penny to leave. Not at all because Eddie had body blocked the door once they realized their ride was driving off. Alright, he was still scarred from day two out of the hospital.  Max and Lucas had come over to the trailer to visit Penny—Lucas loved holding her, you found it so cute—when you had gone to change Penny’s diaper and immediately began crying out for help. Eddie had never bolted so fast in his entire life with Max and Lucas on his heels, and the sight that greeted them was horrifying in a new parent sort of way. Penny had shit so violently once you’d undone her diaper that it was splattered on the wall, she was peeing all over your hands, and she’d thrown up, the milky looking substance also leaking out of her little nostrils. She herself didn’t look at all phased by what she’d just done. So, yeah. Maybe he needed a little back up for now. “Who’s got beautiful, angel eyes? Who’s got beautiful angel eyes? You do! You do!” Eddie watched Argyle gently tap her little nose, and his heart warmed when he could see his baby smiling around her pacifier. He knew it was probably just gas since she was starting to learn how to use her face, but he liked to imagine she knew just how much everyone loved her; that she’d never have to feel like he did growing up, unloved and alone until Uncle Wayne had stepped in when his father had been arrested and he had no one else. His kid had family. And a damn good one at that. “You can pick her up, if you want.” “Whoa.” Jonathan warned. “Hey now.” Argyle took a physical step back from the newborn, eyeing her skeptically. “And risk dropping her—man, that’s not cool.”

“You won’t drop her, so long as you hold onto her. Kind of common knowledge, but simply don’t let go.” Eddie rolled his eyes, stretching forward from the couch to slip his finger into her tiny little hand. She gripped onto it immediately, and he leaned closer to give it a kiss, inhaling the scent of her skin. He couldn’t blame you for sniffing her all the time—she did smell ridiculously good.

“Fine, man. Then you get her out of that chair thingy, ‘cause I don’t wanna hurt her or something. I’m used to Eden’s siblings, they’re like uh a little older by like a lot and stupid invincible. One of her brothers came down the driveway on his bike just when I pulled up and I hit him with my car. Little dude just got right back up, kicked me and left!”  Eddie’s eyes were wide as saucers as he carefully pulled Penny out of her bouncer—the three of them collectively awing in adoration when her lower half scrunched up on instinct as she brought her hands to the sides of her head— and stood up in front of Jonathan. “You get first dibs since you don’t currently have a likely hood of hitting my daughter with a car at some point in her life.”  Jonathan immediately looked like he wanted to runaway, but ended up hesitantly accepting Penny into the crook of his arms as Eddie handed her over. It had been a while since he last held a baby, the last having been Will and he’d been a kid then, too.

He took to it naturally, though, his body relaxing as he held up her hand, thumb rubbing gently over her soft palm. Her squishy little fingers wrapped over his thumb as she stared up at him, most likely curious about a face she’d seen a couple of times before, but not so often this close. Or maybe she wasn’t thinking at all. 

“She’s so. . . small.” That wasn’t what he meant, he’d meant she looked so innocent, so fragile to the world around her. She wasn’t even his kid, but the longer he held her, the more sure he became of the fact that he’d kick ass to keep her safe, something he didn’t do very often, but very effectively. “I’m an uncle.” Eddie smirked, filled with pride as his daughter won another skeptic over. Jonathan ran a hand over her head, mindful of her soft spot, in awe of how soft her hair was. Damn, she really was cute. And she did have Eddie’s eyes.  “She’s a pretty baby.” He commented, moving his thumb around in her hold. “Not gonna lie, I thought she’d you know, be a little ugly when she came out, what with having been squished through a hole, but no. She was even a pretty newborn.” Eddie admitted, he hadn’t seen a whole lot of newborn babies before Penny, but he knew they looked like little aliens fresh out the womb. “You and baby mama must have been some pretty cute looking babies, then. Any kids Eden and I have are screwed, man. I was hairy as hell and I’ve seen her baby pictures, let’s just say they’re gonna get double takes.” Argyle ranted, but he too was focused on Penny and Jonathan, looking a little envious. Once Jonathan got his fair share, he shifted her around in his hold, making sure to support her head as he transferred her into Argyle’s ready and waiting arms. He seemed to change his tune after witnessing Jonathan hold her and successfully not throw her across the room like a football.

Unlike Jonathan who hadn’t wanted to move her around too much in his grasp, Argyle sat her up right, making sure to support her head at Eddie’s prompting. Penny looked startled as her body tried to slump forward, stopped by Argyle’s hold on her. The pacifier stopped moving, and Eddie tensed, waiting for the cry but it never came. Instead, the pacifier began to move again and she let out a soft grunt, but she didn’t seem to mind all that much.

He relaxed, sinking into the couch on Jonathan’s other side. Argyle noticed her drooping lids and deciding to be brave, placed her back into her bouncer as gently as he’d seen Eddie handle her.

Eddie couldn’t help but grin down at her, taken with the way they’d drop completely only to shoot back up. He was reminded of all the late night conversations the two of you had, and how you always fought sleep off, keen on talking to him instead of sleeping. Your eyelids would get all droopy, you’d close your eyes, and then catch yourself, snapping up and briefly awake before doing it all over again.  Eddie wondered how many more memories of you looking at Penny would trigger for him. He couldn’t wait to figure it out.  As if she knew he was thinking about her, Penny’s gaze wandered to him and he locked eyes with a pair identical to his own. Then she forced her pacifier out of her mouth and began to wail something fierce.  They all jumped up immediately, eyes wide at the sudden drop in her mood. “What did I do? Was it something I said?” Argyle asked, blaming himself as he began to panic. Jonathan was running his hands through his hair, distressed.  “No, you didn’t do anything,” Eddie reassured him as he picked Penny back up and walked to the small kitchen, grabbing a bottle from a recent feeding attempt. “You hungry, little bitty pretty one?” He held the bottle to her lips but that only seemed to make her angrier as she struggled against it, head moving away from the nipple. Her face was all squished up and took on a darker tint as her wails died down to whimpers. Eddie knew what that meant.  He was quick to place the bottle back down, but the damage was done. Penny was silent for the briefest of moments before she began shrieking. Water started to pull in the inner corners of her eyes—a new development, up until two days ago, all she could do was cry but her body hadn’t produced tears yet—and she let her little lungs ring loud in the trailer. Eddie knew his neighbors were probably cursing up a storm but they could kick buckets for all he cared. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s not what you wanted, was it? My poor girl. Daddy’s gonna make it right.” Eddie soothed, cradling her to his chest with one hand holding the back of her head.  It seemed to do some good, hearing his voice had stopped the piercing shrieks, but she was still crying and very loudly.  He pulled her little baby bottoms back to check her diaper, but it was still clean so she couldn’t be upset about that. Eddie sighed, raising her a little higher on his chest so he could nuzzle her, pressing kisses into her sweet smelling hair.

Then it hit him. Penny was tired. That was it. She was just tired but unable to fully slip into blissful slumber on her own and she was upset about it. Eddie wanted to beat his head against the fridge for having overlooked something so obvious. He reached down to turn the knob of the radio, bringing it to life before he began searching for a station. Once he’d stumbled upon one crooning out oldies, he swayed, patting her bottom to further soothe her.

Penny’s cries died down almost immediately, turning into soft grunts instead as her lids began to droop again. It was after Eddie started singing along, his voice low and soft, that she was finally able to fall asleep, snuggled up to her daddy with a fist full of his hair that was most definitely going to be super fun getting out of her grip without waking her. Eddie turned to find Jonathan and Argyle watching them. Jonathan had a ghost of a smile on his face while Argyle stared at him in wonder. “Dude. You’re a dad. You just did a dad thing!” Jonathan grinned. “I agree. Looks like I’m the only freak in town now, you’re Eddie ‘The Dad’ Munson, now.” “Hell yeah, I’ll take it.” Eddie didn’t bother trying to hide his smile, he was cheesing’ it up.  You’d called him something similar a couple of times. Teased him about being Eddie ‘The DILF’ Munson, which was really unfair given you hadn’t been cleared by your doctor to have sex yet, so he couldn’t make that a reality.  “It’s crazy how this time last year, we were freshly graduated, you were eloping against every single adults’ opinion and now you have a baby. It’s mind boggling. But like, at the same time it’s not. . .I don’t know, help me out here.” Argyle slapped the back of his hand against Jonathan’s shoulder a few times.

“Being a dad suits you. You’re good at it. You’re a good dad and a good family man.” Jonathan supplied, meaning every word. He’d know, he had a shitty dad like Eddie did.

 That one simple statement hit Eddie hard, and he held Penny just a little tighter to his chest. “Gotta give her everything I didn’t have.” — You nearly broke the door down when you’d gotten back to the trailer. Despite your hesitance to leave Penny, you’d actually enjoyed the time with your friends. Sure, you spent every single second you weren’t talking thinking about your little family, but you still had fun.  The car ride back was spent wondering how much of a mess the place would be. Robin was expecting there to be a small kitchen fire, Eden was expecting one of the boys to be crying, Nancy was just curious to see how Jonathan had lasted in the presence of a baby. For future after college and established careers purposes, of course. You had faith in Eddie, had seen how quickly he had and still was adapting to being a dad. The others you couldn’t ball park so your money was on Argyle being the crybaby to which Eden quickly agreed.

But you hadn’t come home to any of that. The boys were all sat on the couch, fawning over your baby who had woken up in much better mood. “My baby!” You made grabby hands as they got up to greet you, and Eddie let you scoop her up from his arms in exchange for a kiss. You could hear Robin gagging when she realized she was third wheeling three different couples, so you assumed Nancy and Eden were also receiving ‘welcome back’ smooches.  You leaned down to violently inhale Penny’s new baby smell, pulling back with a look of satisfaction on your face. “That’s the good stuff. How’d it go?” Eddie laughed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and trailed a finger through Penny’s curls. “Oh, you know. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”