Summary: Eddie meets his favorite actress. It's you. You’re his favorite adult film star.
Warnings: Adult themes | 🚫 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚫 | Smut 18+ (unprotected sex [risky business], vaginal penetration & fingering, jerk off instructions/mutual masturbation, oral [male receiving], size kink, riding, creampie [def risky], spit & cum play) - smut is thy trade, dirty talk and language.
Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up.
Title Inspiration: “Enjoy The Ride” by Night Riots
Pre A/N: The mania is mania-ing & I won’t complain because I finally finished this! Thank you to all who showed interest. I hope this delivers. There are many sexy ideas for this universe, just let me know if you want to read more. Enjoy!
mrwinterr masterlist || eddie munson masterlist
The Friday night rush had died down, leaving Family Video under the hum of sterile fluorescent lights. The closing duo, Steve, was killing time by mindlessly drawing shapes on the counter with loose candy, while Robin ran routine inventory reports on the computer next to him. Neither paid much attention to the old movie trailers looping on the TV in the corner nor the muffled ranting of their friend Eddie a few aisles over.
Eddie was on the hunt for a distraction – with no campaigns lined up, gigs booked or parties to deal at tonight. When Steve told him there were no new titles coming until next week, Eddie let out an exasperated groan. Not sure of what he could withstand to rewatch or just leave, he said, ‘fuck it’ and dragged himself to the adults only area. The night was a bust, might as well bust one too, right? He had no shame renting a dirty movie in front of his friends. It was Eddie, nothing was out of pocket. But as he rounded the corner, he froze. He wasn’t alone in this section.
A woman stood there, examining a box cover – the artwork then turning it over to read the synopsis on the back. He recognized the profile instantly. You. You don’t seem to notice him. He hadn’t seen you in years. You had been the "neutral" one in high school—not a popular kid like Steve, an outcast like Robin, or a "freak" like him. Just a ghost who graduated and presumably left Hawkins for good.
Every few months you’d return to your stomping ground to check in with family and visit old friends, keeping it on the low. Trying to entertain yourself during your stay, you decide to rent a movie for the night. So, to your surprise, when you stepped into Family Video, you weren’t expecting to see anyone familiar, much less Robin and Steve now employed there.
When you first walked in, Steve and Robin didn’t recognize you. You’d leaned into it, playing along with Steve’s clumsy flirting just to see how far you could go. The old you would have been too shy to look Steve Harrington in the eye, let alone make Robin Buckley blush with a single mischievous glance. You had the adult film industry to thank for your newfound armor of confidence.
You had cut Steve off mid-sentence, swiped a piece of candy from his hand, and strutted into the aisles, leaving them both intrigued and bewildered.
When you were out of their view, they debated trying to get a clear read on you. Who were you really flirting with? Who had a better shot? Him? Her? Both? All thoughts of trying to decipher your intentions ceased when the door chimed again signaling Eddie’s eventual arrival, leading them to abandon the argument, their focus shifting on catching up with their friend.
He couldn’t help but notice the slight transformations you’d undergone. You had seldom spoken to Eddie throughout the school years except for in passing or the occasional transactions in the woods behind the school, which had been mere business rather than personal. He thought you were cute back then, but with the passing of time, it had brought about significant growth and development, catching Eddie’s full attention once more.
His mind raced as he contemplated the possibilities that lay before him. The thought of reconnecting with you, a gateway to the possibility of exploring a potential deeper connection. Would he come up and say hi to you? Spit out something witty? Sell you more weed? Ask about what movie you’re looking at or how have you been since leaving him in the educational prison? Not that it was your fault he got held back. Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, his fight or flight mode was activated and he chose to flee.
As Eddie scrambled to make a hasty getaway, you caught his movements in your peripheral – the flash of brown, frizzy hair whipping past at the end of the aisle. You knew exactly who he was. His booming voice was still unmistakable, even after all this time, memories of his youth antics resurfacing.
He nearly knocks heads with Steve as he crashes into the counter, startling Robin at the register.
"Jesus, Munson! What's the rush? We still have half an hour before we close," Steve snapped.
"Did you guys know you have a fucking movie star in your store?" Eddie hissed, his eyes wide.
Robin and Steve exchanged blank stares. "Who are you talking about?" Steve asks, Robin turning her attention back to the computer.
Eddie sighed, his shoulders slumping. You were a big thing to him and the lack of shared enthusiasm only deflated his mood. The disconnect between their understanding of your presence and his own excitement weighed heavily on Eddie’s spirit as he quickly realized that they didn’t recognize you.
“Y’know…Hawkins High Class of ‘84,” Eddie hints and then pairs your name with the title Porn Star.
"Porn star?" Robin’s eyebrows shot up.
Steve says your name and shakes his head. "The cute, quiet, sweet girl? No way." He can’t get himself to believe it. “We’re talking about the same person?”
"Yes, her!" Eddie insisted.
“Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asks only to be met with Eddie’s widened eyes conveying a “how else do you think, idiot?” kind of way.
“Oh! Ew, dude!” Steve yells, expressing his disgust before backing away.
“You had to ask,” Robin chuckled, shaking her head, finding the situation now amusing.
“Come on, man. Grow up. It’s totally normal,” Eddie retorted, debunking Steve’s disgusted demeanor. Robin nodded in agreement.
“Still, I don’t want to think about it,” Steve insisted, slightly annoyed and crossed his arms.
“Whatever. Did you guys know she was even in here?” Eddie asked.
“No. I guess we forgot when you got here. She’s probably been here for a while,” said Steve.
“She got here a little before you did,” Robin suddenly recalls, “I remember now because Dingus flirted up a storm with her.”
“Don’t start with that,” Steve quickly defends himself, “I wasn’t the only one doing the flirting,” he added as the two revived their unsettled debate from earlier.
“Hey! Can I check out?” Your voice cut through their bickering like a blade.
Eddie spun around, his mouth hanging open. He took in your outfit—the cut-off shorts, the tight black tank top, and the oversized jacket.
The eye contact was heavy. Eddie was visibly flustered, caught between his teenage memories of you and his adult admiration of your work. You watched him, amused. Steve was gawking, and Robin was fighting a smirk. Steve was attractive, sure, but he didn't have the edge you were looking for. Eddie, however? He talked a big game. You wanted to see if he could back it up.
"Hi, Eddie," you said softly.
When he failed to find words, you stepped past him, placing a tape on the counter. You smiled at Robin as she processed the rental, ignoring the way Steve and Eddie were burning holes in your back.
"Good to see the selection has improved," you teased, taking the bag from Robin. You gave her and Steve a wave, but saved a lingering, finger-wiggling goodbye for Eddie.
The moment the door chimed behind you, Robin threw a Tootsie Roll at Eddie’s head. "Dude! She wants you!"
"You really think so?" Eddie asked, dazed.
"Duh! Go after her!" Steve urged, pointing at the door. "Because if you don't, I will."
“Oh please!” Robin scoffs at his empty threat.
“Don’t start with me again, Buckley-” Steve warns before the two begin insensibly arguing again.
Eddie rolled his eyes and bolted out the door to escape their quarreling. Outside, the night air was cool. He scanned the lot and found you leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette in hand. Smoke swirled past your lips as you looked at him, your rental bag dangling from your hand.
"You know my name?" He asked, the formal introductions clearly dead in the water.
"Of course I do," you replied, taking a slow hit of your cigarette. "Who doesn’t know Eddie Munson?"
He gave a small, self-deprecating nod. Who didn’t know the town freak? "It’s just... we never really talked back then."
"So, you remember me?"
"Of course I do," he mimicked, though he started fumbling the moment you raised a skeptical eyebrow. He shifted his weight, his usual bravado replaced by a restless, leg-to-leg shuffle. "I mean, we didn't hang out, but you were cool. From what I remember."
"And what about now?" you interjected, throwing the ball back into his court.
"What?"
"What am I like now?" You dropped the cigarette, extinguishing it with your foot as you stepped into his personal space.
"I-I mean, you're still cool," he stammered, his voice dropping as you closed the gap. "Cooler, actually."
"What did you think of my last movie?" You went straight for the jugular, your arm brushing against his. You felt him go rigid.
"You were phenomenal," he blurted out. The memory of your performance and your newfound flexibility flashed behind his eyes. He’d had no idea you could bend like that.
"Phenomenal, huh?" You tilted your head, savoring the way he was falling apart.
"Uh, yeah. You were... great." Eddie was a stuttering mess again, and you fought the urge to smirk.
"So, you're a fan," you concluded, finally backing off to let him breathe.
Eddie exhaled a breath he’d been holding since the store. He knew the cat was out of the bag; you’d obviously overheard him talking to Steve and Robin. He waited for the rejection – for you to be grossed out by watching your tapes. But you didn't flinch. You were a professional. As an adult film star, you were aware of the nature of the industry and the intent of your projects. None of the concepts, especially Eddie Munson jacking off, bothered you in the slightest.
"You know, I was a fan too," you revealed.
Eddie blinked, confused. "Oh, you...?" He tries to process why you would be having a conversation about watching porn.
"I used to watch you play at The Hideout on Tuesday nights," you clarified, enjoying the way his brain short-circuited.
"Oh! The band!" And like a light bulb…it went off. You nodded, smiling. He was sexy, sure, but he was also undeniably adorable.
You reminisce about the time a flier was hastily shoved at you and other select classmates in between the bells by Eddie and his band mates promoting the band’s weekly show. You had snuck into The Hideout in the middle of the week with your fake ID to watch Corroded Coffin and, in particular, Eddie, curiosity getting the best of you to learn more about him. He oozed confidence and unabashed authenticity on stage. With his guitar strapped around him, he was in his element, completely immersed in the music, transcended into another dimension. It was a high that you wished you could ride along with him and experience that same sense of freedom and passion.
"We still play there on Tuesdays," he said, trying to regain his cool.
"I'm only in town for the weekend," you pouted. You saw a flicker of genuine disappointment in his brown eyes. At that moment, you knew how you wanted to spend your last few days in Hawkins. "Do you want to watch this movie with me?" You shook the rental bag for effect.
Eddie, usually never at a loss for words, simply nodded, overwhelmed by the situation and his desire to spend the night with you.
Hell, he would be content watching whatever you picked even if it turned out to be some overrated John Hughes movie, but still the idea of engaging in other activities with you weren’t completely thrown out the window because God forbid, he’d be a lucky son of a bitch.
You hopped into his van, giving him the short directions to your apartment. It was a private, quiet space—a luxury your job afforded you. Inside, the atmosphere shifted. You kicked off your shoes and headed to the kitchen, leaving Eddie to admire the sanctuary you’d built.
The soft glow of the lamps and the mundaneness of a simple throw, trinkets, artwork and personal photos on the fridge made the "porn star" persona fade. To Eddie, it was a reminder that you were still the same person he’d grown up with.
You returned from the kitchen, hip-bumping the fridge shut and handing him a cold drink. As you settled onto the couch beside him, the playful teasing died down, replaced by something raw and unfiltered when you both started catching up.
"I wish we’d hung out back then," he confessed, finally able to look at you without faltering.
"I would’ve bored you," you dismissed.
"No, you wouldn’t have." He turned in his seat to face you fully. "You went to my shows. You have great taste in music... and beer." He raised his bottle with a grin. "You're fun, and you're..."
"I'm what?"
"...you're perfect."
You hummed, wondering if he meant you, or the version of you he’d seen on screen. If you’d had this confidence in high school, would you ever have left Hawkins? Would you be sitting here with Eddie for different reasons? You pushed the thoughts aside, reaching out to take his half-empty drink and setting it on the table.
"So," you whispered, your eyes locking onto his. "You still want to watch that movie?"
He catches the flicker of hesitation across your features, but you mask it before he can truly process it. You offer your hand and his larger one swallows yours, completely enveloping it.
He follows your lead into the bedroom, settling at the headboard of your bed. His eyes track your every move as you pull a tape from your bag and feed it into the VCR. The screen erupts in a burst of static before a familiar intro begins to roll. Eddie’s breath hitches, he knows this film. It’s one of his favorites, but the realization that you are the star hits him like a ton of bricks.
It’s one of your movies.
When you turn back to him, the soft, familiar girl from Hawkins is gone. In her place stands the woman from the screen—his favorite porn star, brought to life in the dim light of the room. As the audio fills the space, you begin to mirror your on-screen persona, silently mouthing the lines with a practiced, sultry precision. It’s a solo scene, and the heat in Eddie's gaze makes it clear he knows he’s just secured a front-row seat to the show.
The jacket hits the floor first. Between the sudden chill of the room and the adrenaline spiking through your veins, your nipples harden visibly against the thin fabric of your tank top. The flickering glow of the television acts like a spotlight, carving your body into a landscape of shifting shadows and curves.
He follows every inch of your silhouette as the layers fall - first the top, then with the rhythmic sway of your hips as you step out of your bottoms, leaving you in nothing but your lace set all while the muffled melody from the TV hums in the background.
Propping a knee on the edge of the mattress, you begin a slow, predatory crawl toward him, your gaze fixed. Eddie offering a silent prayer to gravity because from his reclined position, the view of your cleavage is devastating. His mouth goes dry at the sight of your breasts straining against the lace, and while he tries to maintain eye contact, he’s effectively paralyzed by the vision in front of him.
Balancing your weight on one palm, you use the other to trace a path up his denim-clad leg. You give the meat of his thigh a firm, lingering squeeze just enough to make his muscles twitch beneath your touch. After a playful tug on the silver chains looping from his belt, you shift, settling onto your shins directly between his parted thighs.
Your hands move upward, mapping the heat of his torso. You let your palms skim his skin, fingers grazing through the light hair of his happy trail before dragging your nails lightly over his nipples. The contact elicits a sharp, jagged hiss.
You pull yourself upward until his face is level with your chest. Any lingering sense of modesty has long since vanished, leaving him with nowhere to look but the soft curves right in front of him. The sharp snap of a clasp echoes in the quiet room, and then he’s watching, breathless, as your breasts spill free from the cups of your bra. You are so close that the heat of his staggered breathing ghosts across your skin.
You push back just enough to toss the lace aside, your hands returning to his thighs. You take a moment to admire the feeling of him, groping the sturdy muscle before your fingers hook into the waistband of his jeans. You tilt your head back, locking eyes with him in a silent, loaded question.
Eddie nods eagerly, desperate for you to keep going, but you go still. You wait, watching him, until the realization finally flickers in his blown-out pupils. You aren't going to do all the work. You’re waiting for him to aid you in the undressing process.
He wastes no time, popping the button and dragging the zipper down with frantic fingers. He arches his hips off the mattress, and you reward him with a smile as you grip the denim, sliding his pants down the length of his legs until he’s left in his boxers. The fabric is already straining, a prominent tent rising beneath the material. You’re tempted to strip him bare then and there, but you decide to draw out the agony of anticipation.
After tossing his jeans to the floor, you settle back between his legs, turning your own undressing into a choreographed show. With your knees bent—cruelly obstructing his view—you lift your hips and slide the thin silk of your panties down your legs. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you slowly spread your legs, baring yourself to him. His expression is a masterpiece of shock and adoration, frozen and utterly captivated.
“Watch the movie,” you command softly.
The cinematic version of you lies on a crisp white bed, hands kneading your own breasts. As the on-screen you whines and tugs at your nipples, your thighs rub together in a restless rhythm.
Eddie’s gaze flickers between the screen and the reality in front of him. In the flickering glow of the TV, he can see the glisten of saliva on your nipples as you mimic your on-screen self. What truly unnerves him, in the best way possible, is your stare. You keep your eyes locked on him throughout the performance. He knows this movie by heart; he knows exactly what comes next, but he isn't sure his heart can take the live rendition.
You bring your fingers to your lips, wetting them before sliding them down to circle your clit, mixing your heat with the slickness of your mouth. Eddie bolts upright, abandoning his slouch for a better vantage point just as your fingers sink into your own wetness. Your head falls back, a moan escaping your throat that harmonizes with the audio from the speakers. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your friction fill the room, drowning out everything else.
When you finally slow your pace, you glance at him, savoring the look of hunger on his face. He’s still wearing his shirt; a flicker of self-consciousness crosses his features as he likely compares himself to your co-star on the screen.
You cock your head, reading the room instantly. “I want to see you, Eddie,” you murmur, your voice a low as you run a hand over his ankle. “...all of you.”
Well, fuck it, he thinks. He pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Your eyes immediately map the landscape of his chest, the dark ink of his tattoos, the light dusting of hair, and the trail leading downward. He isn't a plastic movie star, and that’s exactly why he’s so delicious.
“You’re so hot, Eddie,” you praise him, the pace of your hand between your legs quickening. The faint blush on his cheeks tells you he doesn't hear that nearly enough.
The time for teasing is over. Your voice drops to a demanding edge. “Take your cock out.”
Shedding the last of his inhibitions along with his boxers, he finally reveals himself. He is thick, flushed, and perfectly at attention, the tip already weeping with a bead of pre-cum. You bite your lip, fighting the impulse to lean forward and taste him right then.
“Touch yourself,” you command, your eyes dark with intent. “Show me what you do when you watch me.”
Your gaze remains fixed on him, your fingers maintaining their steady, rhythmic friction as the digital version of yourself continues its performance over your shoulder. You watch with a voyeur’s curiosity, imagining the dark, frantic thoughts racing through his mind.
You’re mesmerized by the sight of him – the way his hand firmly grips his length, knuckles white as he works himself. Your own mind begins to wander, replaced by vivid images of his thick fingers replacing your own, plunging deep into your heat or using the right amount of pressure at the bundle of nerves. You can almost feel the weight of him, the slick, weeping head of his cock dragging against your slit, the promise of him splitting you open and throbbing within you.
He seems lost in the haze of his own fantasy, his movements becoming more urgent, so you decide to pull him back to the reality of the room.
“How does it feel, Eddie?” you ask, your voice thick with a low, fervor.
“S-so good,” he chokes out, his voice cracking under the strain of his arousal.
“Yeah?” you lean in, egging him on with a predatory smile. “Are you getting it nice and hard for me?”
A ragged string of curses falls from his lips in response. His eyes squeeze shut, his head falling back against the headboard as your words weaponize the pleasure, sending a fresh wave of overwhelming intensity crashing through his body.
You reach over and seize Eddie’s wrist, yanking his hand away. The sudden movement breaks his trance, his eyes snapping to yours as you bring his palm directly to your face.
On the screen, you do the same to your co-star. You stick your tongue out, running it flat and slow along the center of his palm, tasting the salt of his skin. Eddie lets out a choked sound, his fingers twitching. Without breaking eye contact, you lower his hand, guiding it down until his slick palm meets the rigid length of his cock. Once he finds his rhythm again, you go back to your earlier task of teasing yourself.
"Is that better?" you murmur, quoting the film with a wicked tilt of your head.
Eddie can only nod, his eyes darting frantically between your fingers, which are now disappearing into your own heat. The dual audio of your real-life whimpers and the recorded moans create a dizzying, erotic echo in the small room.
You watch him watch you. He’s completely captivated, his head rolling back as he witnesses you reach your first climax in person. As you pull your fingers back, glistening and trembling, you outstretch your arms toward him.
"Taste it," you command.
He doesn't hesitate. He’s on autopilot, leaning in to wrap his lips around your digits, sucking the arousal from your skin with a desperation that makes your own knees weak. You can feel his tongue against your fingertips, his eyes squeezed shut as he finally abandons the screen for the real thing.
The game is over. You’re done sharing him.
You pull your fingers from his mouth and lunge forward, crashing your lips into his in a messy, spit-slicked collision. You let him have dominance, giving him permission to explore your mouth while your hands snake down, wrapping around his thick length. You give it a light, deliberate squeeze, swallowing the delicious moan that erupts from his throat.
You reluctantly pull away, loving the sight of his kiss-swollen lips. You slide down the bed, meeting his throbbing cock face-to-flesh.
"Such a pretty cock," you whisper, gripping him and tapping the head against your cheek. "And so big."
On the TV, the "routine" continues, but Eddie isn't looking at the screen anymore. He’s looking at you, his chest heaving as you finally take him in.
"Open your eyes," you instruct, your voice dropping into a domineering purr. "Look at me."
You glide your tongue along the length of his shaft in a slow, deliberate motion that makes him jolt. You watch in awe as your spit cascades down his length, scooping it up to use as lube as you begin to stroke him.
"Holy shit," he gasps. Your half-lidded eyes never leave him.
You wrap your lips around the crown, sucking lightly and dipping your tongue into the slit to taste the salt of his pre-cum. Then, you take him in inch by inch. None of your past "performances" prepared you for Eddie. He’s nestled deep, triggering a mouth-watering ache in your throat. You hold the position for a few seconds, the muscles contracting around him as you gag, then pulling away to search for air, using the slick mess to aid you as you dive back in.
"Fuck. Do that—do that again," he grunts, rubbing his face in disbelief. "Please, please."
He doesn't have to beg. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your throat battle with the audio from the TV, but the real-time version is louder, hungrier. You drag him against the inside of your cheek, mimicking the screen one last time before releasing him with an audible pop.
Using the mixture of spit and heat at his base, you give him a few final, frantic pumps before letting go to straddle him. You lean down for a chaste kiss, bracing one palm on his stomach while the other holds him hostage right at the gate of your entrance.
You don’t rush as you sink down inch by inch, watching Eddie’s jaw drop, a long, breathless hiss escaping his teeth as you stretch to take all of him.
"God..." he groans out your name, his hands coming up to rest tentatively on your hips.
"Don't move," you say, leaning forward so your hair brushes his face. "I wanna feel you for a second." You really want to just bask in him inside you before you let loose.
As you begin to ride him, the friction creates a frothy, white lather where your bodies meet, a visceral sign of just how worked up you’ve made him. You aren't just riding him; you’re grinding down, using your weight to ensure he feels every bit of friction. You arch your back, your hands moving to your own breasts, mimicking the scene on the screen but with a raw intensity no camera could ever capture.
Eddie is a wreck beneath you, especially when you lean back to brace your palms on his thighs, feet planted on his sides, all so Eddie could have a bird’s eye view of his glistening cock disappearing inside you repeatedly. What a POV.
His hips hitch upward instinctively, trying to meet your rhythm, but you keep him pinned, your eyes locked onto him. You want him to watch you—to see exactly what he’s doing to you.
"You're... you're fucking unreal," he gasps, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs. The bruising touch makes your thighs give up, and your legs reclaim their position trapping his hips.
You lean in, “Touch me” you demand, guiding his hands up to your chest, your voice a low, vibrating hum against his ear as the male co-star flickers onto the screen. “Do you imagine you’re him?” you ask seductively. “Do you imagine it’s your hands on my body?” Then bring his hand to your mouth, “Your fingers in my mouth?” Sucking his thick digits before asking one more question, “Your cock in my pussy?”
You pick up the speed, your pussy walls clenching around him with every stroke. You can feel Eddie vibrating, his breath coming in ragged, desperate hitches as he nears his limit.
"Please," he whimpers, his head thrashing back.
You snake a hand around his neck while the other grounds itself on his thigh for balance as you grind harder and faster against his cock. “You gonna cum?” you choke out. He nods frantically, his eyes wide and dark. “Good. Because I want you to cum inside me. I want it deep. Can you do that? Can you cum for me?”
Eddie doesn't need to be asked twice. Who was he to deny a goddess?
He reaches up, his hands tangling in your hair to pull you down for a deep, messy kiss as he finally snaps. He bucks upward one last time, his entire body jolting then still as he pours himself into you, each pump of hot cum filling your insides spreading warmth through your lower body, whereas the tight coil in your belly snaps, your walls repeatedly trigger aftershocks squeezing him tighter, driving you head first into the crook of his shoulder, your face buried in his messy locks and sweaty skin.
When your strength finally returns, you slowly lift your hips. His spent cock slips out with a wet sound, a trail of mixed fluids escaping you and staining his lower abdomen. You both whine at the sudden loss of connection.
Guided by the last bit of adrenaline, you maneuver down, greedily lapping up the spent heat that spilled onto his skin. You run your tongue down the length of him, cleaning the mess, causing his hips to jolt from the sensitivity. You moan around him one last time before releasing him with a soft, audible pop and plopping down to lie next to him.
Meanwhile, the credits roll in a silent, flickering crawl on the TV until the screen turns blue. Eddie looks like a man who has lost his grip on reality. The air in your room is stifling, thick with the scent of sex and the hum of the static coming from the speakers.
"You're...you're phenomenal,” he says breathlessly.
You let out a shaky laugh, turning your head to look at him. His hair is a wild, tangled mess across the pillows, and his dark eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them.
"Eddie," you whisper, your thumb stroking his cheekbone. "You are phenomenal. Always have been…on stage, back in the cafeteria, when you’d stand on tables and make a scene during lunch," His cheeks tint momentarily at his ridiculousness, only because he still does that to this very day, “…and especially in bed.” You put emphasis on this one as you turn to snuggle into the warmth of his chest.
He pulls the duvet up high around the two of you, creating a small, private world – just long enough for the weekend.
The following Monday at Family Video, Steve leans over the returns bin, picking and handing the next film to Robin, who clicks away on the computer.
The bell chimes, and Eddie Munson didn't just walk in, he swaggered. He looked delightfully wrecked; his hair is wilder and his eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that only comes from a very successful weekend. In his hand, he gripped the plastic rental bag like a holy relic.
"No way," Steve said, dropping a VHS tape onto the counter with a heavy thud. "Munson? I thought you’d died of embarrassment after Friday night,” he adds with a little mockery of Eddie blubbering.
Eddie ignored him, sliding the bag across the laminate toward Robin with a slow, triumphant flourish. "Returning a rental for a friend," he said, his voice a low, smug rasp.
Robin’s eyes widened as she pulled the tape out. She recognized the title immediately—it was the adult film you had rented Friday night. She looked from the box to Eddie, then back to the tape.
"You're returning her movie?" Robin asked, her voice jumping an octave. "As in... you were with her? All weekend?"
"The cinematography was even better in person, Buckley," Eddie leaned over the counter, his voice dropping to a whisper that he knew Steve could hear. "High definition doesn't even begin to cover it."
Steve’s jaw practically hit the floor. He looked at the tape, then at Eddie, his brain struggling to bridge the gap between "Quiet Classmate" and "Porn Star." It’s always the quiet ones, he guessed.
"Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me she spent the weekend with you? I gave her free candy! I used my best material!" Steve paced a small circle behind the register, his hands flying up in exasperation.
"Your material is a bit... 'G-rated' for a girl like her, Harrington," Eddie teased.
"I don't believe it," Steve muttered.
Eddie leaned over the counter, sliding a second movie toward Steve. "Oh, and I almost forgot. I’d like to return this one too."
Steve picked it up, flicking the case open to check the return date. He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Munson, this is three days late."
"Hey," Eddie said, spreading his hands and tilting his head with a look of mock innocence. "Better late than never, right?”
Steve looked at the tape, then at Robin. "I'm charging him double for the late fee."
“Whatever” Eddie says shrugging. It wasn’t the first late fee he received.
He could only think about your inevitable return to Hawkins. Ain’t nothing was going to break his stride, he was going to enjoy the ride with you.
Post A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment/like. I'd totally appreciate it! <3
Summary: Eddie meets his favorite actress. It's you. You’re his favorite adult film star.
Warnings: None right now, but will be 18+ (smut) so no minors plz.
Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up.
Pre A/N: I've had this in my docs for a while, so instead of letting it rot, I'm posting a preview. Enjoy, I guess.
Eddie didn’t have plans for the weekend. No event to deal at, no gig booked, no campaign prepared, just the prospect of hoping to relax, a simple night in.
So for him, it was a surprise to run into you since you’d graduated. He couldn’t help but notice the slight transformations you’d undergone. You had seldom spoken to Eddie throughout the school years except for in passing or the occasional transactions involving substances, which had been mere business rather than personal. He thought you were cute back then, but with the passing of time, it had brought about significant growth and development, catching Eddie’s full attention once more.
His mind raced as he contemplated the possibilities that lay before him. The thought of reconnecting with you, a gateway to a possibility of exploring a potential deeper connection. Would he come up and say hi to you? Spit out something witty? Sell you more weed? Ask about what movie you’re looking at or how have you been since leaving him in the educational prison? Not that it was your fault he got held back… Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, his fight or flight mode was activated and he chose to flee.
He nearly knocks heads with Steve as he crashes into the counter, startling Robin at the register.
“Jesus, dude, what’s the rush? We still have half an hour before we close,” Steve says, annoyance seeping in.
“Did you guys know you have a fucking movie star in your store?!” Eddie whispers loudly disregarding Steve’s remark and the weird stare from Robin.
Bewildered by this question, the two exchanged confused looks in response to his words. The store was so dead, and your hushed presence as you browsed through their selections, had caused them to forget they weren’t alone. As far as they were concerned it was just Eddie inside the building with them. They just wanted to close up shop and go home.
You weren’t looking for any movie in particular actually, but when you noticed Family Video now had added an adult section you were curious to see the collection they offered, even more that some of your films made it on the shelf.
You didn’t care that your face was on display, especially in a small town of close minded people to see. It was your life after all. You were here for a good time, not a long time, right? Not to mention it was kind of an ego booster to know that the people who didn’t give you the time of day now wanted you or at the very least, good or bad, thoughts of you invaded their minds. It was sadistic and at the same time amusing because oh, had the tables turned.
A smirk etched its way upon your lips as the realization washed over you - you had made it…in some sense. Perhaps not to the heights of stardom, but in that moment, it felt as though you were on top of the world, a quiet victory.
Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was a fan of your work, a fan of your movies. It had all started when he rented a different tape starring his then former favorite actress. You were in the bonus scene included. You instantly stole the spotlight for him that instead of finishing off to a full movie, he managed to with a short three minute preview of you. It didn’t take him long to make a connection as to why you looked familiar.
Going back to her closing duties, Robin turns away from the conversation as Steve holds his slightly irritated gaze at Eddie trying to make sense of what he was talking about.
“Who are you talking about?” He asks, response laced with confusion seeking clarity.
Eddie’s disbelief was evident as he blinked once, then a few more times, and shaking his head, unable to comprehend that they were unaware of the other person that was in the same building as them.
“Y/N!” He finally answers them, “Y/N is here,” he says again, pointing discreetly in the direction of the secluded area of the store, the pair realizing it was from the adult section.
Met with blank stares, Eddie let out a sigh of defeat escape his lips, shoulders slumped in the process, displaying clear disappointment in his friends. You were a big thing to him and the lack of shared enthusiasm only deflated his mood. The disconnect between their understanding of your presence and his own excitement weighed heavily on Eddie’s spirit as he quickly realized that they didn’t recognize you.
“Y/N. Y’know…Hawkins High Class of ‘84. Pornstar Y/N,” Eddie hints.
“Pornstar?” Robin questioned, surprise evident in her voice.
“Y/N? Sweet, quiet, Y/N?” Steve asked, seeking confirmation as if he couldn’t believe what his friend was saying.
“Yes, that Y/N!” Eddie affirmed.
The same sense of smug satisfaction stayed with you and only increased with the conversation you overheard when you made your way to checkout.
As you eavesdropped on Eddie’s hurried conversation with Robin and Steve, you couldn’t help but be intrigued by the intensity and urgency in his voice, especially when he was talking about you. The words spilled from his mouth in a rapid succession that left Steve and Robin struggling to keep up.
“Hold up. Did you say she’s a pornstar now?” Robin asked, needing further clarification to which Eddie nodded in response.
“Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asks only to be met with Eddie’s widened eyes conveying a “how else do you think, idiot?” kind of way.
“Oh! Ew, dude!” Steve yells, expressing his disgust before backing away.
“You had to ask,” Robin chuckled, finding the situation now amusing.
“Come on, man. Grow up. It’s totally normal,” Eddie retorted, debunking Steve’s appalled demeanor. Robin nodded in agreement.
“Still, I don’t want to think about it,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms.
“Whatever. Did you guys know she was even in here?” Eddie asked.
“No. I guess we forgot when you got here. She’s probably been here for a while,” said Steve.
“She got here a little before you did,” Robin suddenly recalls, "I remember now because Dingus flirted up a storm with her.”
“Don’t start with that,” Steve quickly defends himself, “I wasn’t the only one doing the flirting,” he added as the two revived their unsettled debate from earlier.
“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, silencing the two, “She’s been in here that long and I’ve been walking around this place like a damn tool wasting my time?” he exclaimed in frustration.
“Well, what would you have done if you knew I was here?” You piped up, throwing Eddie a curveball, your smooth voice catching all three of their attention.
Eddie spun around, his mouth opening and closing without uttering a single world. He struggled to grasp his own thoughts, attempting to decide on his next move. Every ounce of self-confidence he just had seemed to evaporate from his being as his eyes traveled up and down your figure.
Post A/N: I'll finish this someday...but thoughts?
Warnings: Adult themes | 🚫 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚫 | Smut 18+ (unprotected sex [risky business], p in v, creampie, mentions of other positions), dirty talk and language.
Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series happen here. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up.
A/N: You’d think silky sheets are sexy, but you just keep slipping. They still feel great though.
mrwinterr masterlist | eddie munson masterlist
“Ah! Fuck, Eddie!” You yell out in pain more than of pleasure.
It was ironic because where his harsh thrusts were supposed to push you to new heights, it only pushed your head against the wall to see stars in a different light.
“Shit,” Eddie freezes instantly, short of breath, and guilt flashing across his face, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
He leans forward, chest heaving, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. You’re already rubbing the area to soothe the pain.
“It’s okay,” you mumble, even though it’s not. No, not really. “Just...slow down. Please.”
He huffs out a shaky, self-depricating laugh, forehead dropping briefly to your shoulder. “You know I can’t do that,” he says softly, almost apologetically. Then his voice drops, “…not when I’m buried this deep inside you.”
He presses forward, sinking in fully, until you feel him everywhere, stretching you, filling you so completely it pulls a helpless moan from your throat. You feel his breath hot against your skin, and the sound he makes is one of a man wrecked, like he’s barely holding himself together.
Your fingers tangle in his wild hair, tugging gently just to keep yourself grounded. “I’d just—” you sucked in a sharp breath, body betraying you as pleasure builds up anyway when you’re trying to get serious for a moment, “...like to have bruises anywhere other than my head.”
That gets a short laugh from him. “Fine,” he mutters relentlessly. “Turn around. Hands and knees. Now.”
He reluctantly eases out of you with agonizing slowness. The obscene, wet sound fills the room in the process and you shiver at the loss, however, the demanding edge in his tone has you moving quickly, pushing yourself up on your elbows.
Your muscles shook from anticipation as you shifted and turned, your heart hammering against your ribs. You could feel his eyes watching you the entire time, dark, hungry, and ready to do it again…just in a different position.
“Oh, motherfucker. Eddie! Ed-” Your voice cracked as the bed betrayed you. The silk was like ice, your body sliding too far and too fast, and soon gravity took over. Panic flared through you for half a second before Eddie’s strong arms shot out, his fingers digging into your skin to anchor you, stopping you just before you tumbled off the other side of the bed.
He catches you, but not without consequence. His cock slips free in the scramble, and the loss hits you hard. You feel the slick heat of him drag along the inside of your thigh, so wet, so hard against you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You let out a frustrated groan, insides burning because you were right there—so close it almost hurts.
“Damn it,” Eddie growled. His jaw clenched tight, his chest heaving as he stared down at you like he’s trying not to lose his damn mind.
“It’s these silk sheets, Eds,” you managed to breathe out, the sound somewhere between half a laugh, half a whine. “They’re making me slip all over the place.” While the black silk sheets were beautiful and felt great to the touch, they were not practical for certain activities.
“They’re not gonna stop me from fucking you,” he snaps back immediately, voice rough and stripped of its usual playfulness.
Before you can say another word, he turns you back around to pull you to the center of the bed, hands firm and unyielding as his arms hooked under each of your legs. You slide effortless over the silk, a flash of heat flares between your thighs as you’re repositioned exactly where he wants you. His hands spread you open for him like it’s instinct.
“Fine,” he mutters, already lining himself up again. The tip of his cock brushing against you, teasingly and agonizingly. “We’ll go slow,” he scoffs just before pushing in. “I guess.”
It was a promise wrapped in a threat, delivered with a look that made it painfully clear - slow is going to feel just as devastating.
“Stop getting away from me!” he demands, frustration bleeding into his voice. His grip tightens as the damn silk sheets slide beneath you again, your body shifting helplessly, forcing him to involuntarily pull halfway out.
The sudden loss makes you gasp. “I’m not!” you snap back breathlessly, looking for purchase, thighs trembling. “It’s these fucking sheets, Eddie—I swear.” Your voice is desperate, sick of being on the cusp of pleasure just to be ripped away every time in every position.
He lets out a broken groan, head tipping back for a second like he’s trying not to lose it entirely. The tension in the air is tight, and suddenly there’s a harsh rip that cuts through the room. You blink just in time to see him tear the corner of the bedsheet clean off the mattress.
“Fuck this,” he mutters, eyes still just as dark as he tosses the ruined silk aside. So much for sexy. All it’s done is rob you both of the release that’s been hovering just out of reach.
He moved back between your legs, his knees digging into the bare mattress now. His hands found your hips, pulling you back toward him, where you belong. No slipping. No escape.
“I’m gonna fill this pussy up tonight no matter what,” he promises, words thick with need. His pace picks up again, harder this time, more determined, every thrust deliberate like he’s chasing something he refuses to be denied of...again.
And this time, he makes damn sure nothing, no fabric or force of gravity, keeps either of you from chasing that high.
The friction of the bare mattress changed everything. Every time he drove forward, you felt the sheer impact vibrating through your very bones. The "slow" he had promised was long gone, replaced by a frantic, rhythmic desperation that pushed you right back to that edge.
"Eddie," you choked out, your head thrashing back against the pillows. Your vision was beginning to blur, the world dissolving into flashes of white light and the sound of his uneven breathing.
"I've got you," his voice vibrating against your collarbone. "I’m not letting you go anywhere. Literally” he adds, letting out a lone chuckle, somehow finding time to make a joke even in this situation.
The ache inside coiled tighter and tighter, on the brink of snapping. You could feel it in the way his muscles bunched, the way his fingers dug into your waist as if he were trying to merge his body with yours. It was a sensory overload—the scent of him, the salt of sweat, and the fullness of him filling every inch of you until it happened.
You cried out, a sound of pure, shattered relief as your climax washes over you like harsh tidal waves. Your walls clamped down around him in pulsing rhythm, and that was the final straw for Eddie.
He let out a low, guttural sound finally breaking. His thrusts are almost uncoordinated, but nonetheless, he drives into you, his hot cum spilling deep inside until he’s spent. His forehead crashes against yours, his eyes squeezed shut as he shook with the force of his own release.
The only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized pounding of your hearts. The high was devastatingly blissful, leaving you both wrecked and tangled together on the ruined bed, the discarded silk sheets forgotten on the floor.
"Well," he wheezed, his voice muffled and scratchy. "That’s the last time I try and buy something luxurious."
You let out a weak laugh, your fingers feebly tracing the line of his spine. "I thought you said they were supposed to be sexy."
Eddie finally pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with a lopsided, exhausted grin. His hair was a bird’s nest, his chest was flushed, and he looked entirely satisfied, even if he was currently glaring at the floor. He pointed a finger at the pile of black silk crumpled in the corner like a fallen enemy.
"They were sexy. For about thirty seconds," he countered. "Then they became a slip-and-slide from hell."
You leaned up to plant a lingering, lazy kiss on his jaw. "You handled the difficult terrain pretty well at the end there."
"Yeah, well, I had to resort to barbarian tactics," he muttered, glancing at the jagged, torn remains of the fitted sheet still clinging to the corner of the mattress. He winced slightly, realizing something. "That was a nice thread count, wasn't it?"
"The highest," you confirmed.
Eddie fell back onto the bare mattress with a dramatic thud, pulling you into his side and tucking you under his arm. "Worth it. But tomorrow? We’re going back to the cheap cotton."
A/N: Silk sheets, am I right? Lol. Please like, reblog or comment. Thank you for reading!
@hellfirexhoe tysm for reading, lovely! 💖 yessss. they’re not practical at all! 😠 haha glad you enjoyed! hope you can check out my other eddie fics sometime 🫶🏼
Warnings: Adult themes | 🚫 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚫 | Smut 18+ (unprotected sex [risky business], p in v, creampie, mentions of other positions), dirty talk and language.
Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series happen here. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up.
A/N: You’d think silky sheets are sexy, but you just keep slipping. They still feel great though.
mrwinterr masterlist | eddie munson masterlist
“Ah! Fuck, Eddie!” You yell out in pain more than of pleasure.
It was ironic because where his harsh thrusts were supposed to push you to new heights, it only pushed your head against the wall to see stars in a different light.
“Shit,” Eddie freezes instantly, short of breath, and guilt flashing across his face, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
He leans forward, chest heaving, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. You’re already rubbing the area to soothe the pain.
“It’s okay,” you mumble, even though it’s not. No, not really. “Just...slow down. Please.”
He huffs out a shaky, self-depricating laugh, forehead dropping briefly to your shoulder. “You know I can’t do that,” he says softly, almost apologetically. Then his voice drops, “…not when I’m buried this deep inside you.”
He presses forward, sinking in fully, until you feel him everywhere, stretching you, filling you so completely it pulls a helpless moan from your throat. You feel his breath hot against your skin, and the sound he makes is one of a man wrecked, like he’s barely holding himself together.
Your fingers tangle in his wild hair, tugging gently just to keep yourself grounded. “I’d just—” you sucked in a sharp breath, body betraying you as pleasure builds up anyway when you’re trying to get serious for a moment, “...like to have bruises anywhere other than my head.”
That gets a short laugh from him. “Fine,” he mutters relentlessly. “Turn around. Hands and knees. Now.”
He reluctantly eases out of you with agonizing slowness. The obscene, wet sound fills the room in the process and you shiver at the loss, however, the demanding edge in his tone has you moving quickly, pushing yourself up on your elbows.
Your muscles shook from anticipation as you shifted and turned, your heart hammering against your ribs. You could feel his eyes watching you the entire time, dark, hungry, and ready to do it again…just in a different position.
“Oh, motherfucker. Eddie! Ed-” Your voice cracked as the bed betrayed you. The silk was like ice, your body sliding too far and too fast, and soon gravity took over. Panic flared through you for half a second before Eddie’s strong arms shot out, his fingers digging into your skin to anchor you, stopping you just before you tumbled off the other side of the bed.
He catches you, but not without consequence. His cock slips free in the scramble, and the loss hits you hard. You feel the slick heat of him drag along the inside of your thigh, so wet, so hard against you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You let out a frustrated groan, insides burning because you were right there—so close it almost hurts.
“Damn it,” Eddie growled. His jaw clenched tight, his chest heaving as he stared down at you like he’s trying not to lose his damn mind.
“It’s these silk sheets, Eds,” you managed to breathe out, the sound somewhere between half a laugh, half a whine. “They’re making me slip all over the place.” While the black silk sheets were beautiful and felt great to the touch, they were not practical for certain activities.
“They’re not gonna stop me from fucking you,” he snaps back immediately, voice rough and stripped of its usual playfulness.
Before you can say another word, he turns you back around to pull you to the center of the bed, hands firm and unyielding as his arms hooked under each of your legs. You slide effortless over the silk, a flash of heat flares between your thighs as you’re repositioned exactly where he wants you. His hands spread you open for him like it’s instinct.
“Fine,” he mutters, already lining himself up again. The tip of his cock brushing against you, teasingly and agonizingly. “We’ll go slow,” he scoffs just before pushing in. “I guess.”
It was a promise wrapped in a threat, delivered with a look that made it painfully clear - slow is going to feel just as devastating.
“Stop getting away from me!” he demands, frustration bleeding into his voice. His grip tightens as the damn silk sheets slide beneath you again, your body shifting helplessly, forcing him to involuntarily pull halfway out.
The sudden loss makes you gasp. “I’m not!” you snap back breathlessly, looking for purchase, thighs trembling. “It’s these fucking sheets, Eddie—I swear.” Your voice is desperate, sick of being on the cusp of pleasure just to be ripped away every time in every position.
He lets out a broken groan, head tipping back for a second like he’s trying not to lose it entirely. The tension in the air is tight, and suddenly there’s a harsh rip that cuts through the room. You blink just in time to see him tear the corner of the bedsheet clean off the mattress.
“Fuck this,” he mutters, eyes still just as dark as he tosses the ruined silk aside. So much for sexy. All it’s done is rob you both of the release that’s been hovering just out of reach.
He moved back between your legs, his knees digging into the bare mattress now. His hands found your hips, pulling you back toward him, where you belong. No slipping. No escape.
“I’m gonna fill this pussy up tonight no matter what,” he promises, words thick with need. His pace picks up again, harder this time, more determined, every thrust deliberate like he’s chasing something he refuses to be denied of...again.
And this time, he makes damn sure nothing, no fabric or force of gravity, keeps either of you from chasing that high.
The friction of the bare mattress changed everything. Every time he drove forward, you felt the sheer impact vibrating through your very bones. The "slow" he had promised was long gone, replaced by a frantic, rhythmic desperation that pushed you right back to that edge.
"Eddie," you choked out, your head thrashing back against the pillows. Your vision was beginning to blur, the world dissolving into flashes of white light and the sound of his uneven breathing.
"I've got you," his voice vibrating against your collarbone. "I’m not letting you go anywhere. Literally” he adds, letting out a lone chuckle, somehow finding time to make a joke even in this situation.
The ache inside coiled tighter and tighter, on the brink of snapping. You could feel it in the way his muscles bunched, the way his fingers dug into your waist as if he were trying to merge his body with yours. It was a sensory overload—the scent of him, the salt of sweat, and the fullness of him filling every inch of you until it happened.
You cried out, a sound of pure, shattered relief as your climax washes over you like harsh tidal waves. Your walls clamped down around him in pulsing rhythm, and that was the final straw for Eddie.
He let out a low, guttural sound finally breaking. His thrusts are almost uncoordinated, but nonetheless, he drives into you, his hot cum spilling deep inside until he’s spent. His forehead crashes against yours, his eyes squeezed shut as he shook with the force of his own release.
The only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized pounding of your hearts. The high was devastatingly blissful, leaving you both wrecked and tangled together on the ruined bed, the discarded silk sheets forgotten on the floor.
"Well," he wheezed, his voice muffled and scratchy. "That’s the last time I try and buy something luxurious."
You let out a weak laugh, your fingers feebly tracing the line of his spine. "I thought you said they were supposed to be sexy."
Eddie finally pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with a lopsided, exhausted grin. His hair was a bird’s nest, his chest was flushed, and he looked entirely satisfied, even if he was currently glaring at the floor. He pointed a finger at the pile of black silk crumpled in the corner like a fallen enemy.
"They were sexy. For about thirty seconds," he countered. "Then they became a slip-and-slide from hell."
You leaned up to plant a lingering, lazy kiss on his jaw. "You handled the difficult terrain pretty well at the end there."
"Yeah, well, I had to resort to barbarian tactics," he muttered, glancing at the jagged, torn remains of the fitted sheet still clinging to the corner of the mattress. He winced slightly, realizing something. "That was a nice thread count, wasn't it?"
"The highest," you confirmed.
Eddie fell back onto the bare mattress with a dramatic thud, pulling you into his side and tucking you under his arm. "Worth it. But tomorrow? We’re going back to the cheap cotton."
A/N: Silk sheets, am I right? Lol. Please like, reblog or comment. Thank you for reading!
Pairing(s): Ghost!Eddie Munson AU x Female Reader; Steve Harrington x Female Reader
Summary: Sometimes dead is better...or better left alone. This is a follow-up to Die Happy.
Warnings: The usual 18+ smut & spooky stuff. 🚫 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚫 Adult themes | (unprotected sex [risky business] p in v, oral [male receiving], missionary, cream pie [this one is also risky biz] and language). Yeah.
Disclaimer: THIS IS HELLA LONG! None of the spookier stuff from Stranger Things (2016) happens here. I don’t use Ouija boards. I only know what I’ve seen in movies, which is translated to an extent here. I also am no expert in law or forensics as seen here.
Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers
A/N: Listen, y’all haven’t heard the last of Steve Harrington in this AU. This is a reimagining of my Ghost!Bucky Barnes story, and it only took me years to finally finish this AU. I’m not super happy about this. You can tell it was rushed, but I wanted to close it out too. Read Part 1 first or leave some feedback, please. Enjoy!
mrwinterr masterlist | eddie munson masterlist
You were afraid.
Not by the realization that you’ve been coexisting with an apparition since day one of moving to Hawkins…because by all logical means, that should have been it, but no, you were afraid that you scared him off.
Since your little encounter with Eddie, you couldn’t find the courage to summon him again. Frankly, you were a little embarrassed at how fast things had gotten carried away that night. Was he still roaming around the trailer? It was disheartening because the absence of any signs he used to exhibit – the scent, the chill, the gestures – were all gone. Had he moved on at last?
You didn’t want to attempt the Ouija board again because a part of you feared confirmation that he was no longer present, or worse, that he would ignore you. It was ironic – to be ghosted by a ghost. Oh yeah, then there’s a possibility you conjure something or someone more sinister. Steve was right to some degree that not every ghost is Casper.
In addition, other aspects of your life began to demand more of your time, between long nights working at the police station, paying your bills on time, managing to maintain a healthy lifestyle and Steve…thoughts of your spectral roommate persisted. Ever since crossing that threshold, your curiosity about him only intensified.
What was he still doing here?
Did he want to move on?
Could he move on?
Did he need help?
You yearned to see, hear, and even feel him once more.
It’d been over a month, and you couldn’t bear it any longer. You threw yourself head first into Eddie’s world, unearthing everything you could find about him. You were obsessed with the idea of him and how to help him.
As a junior detective, snooping for clues shouldn’t be a problem, especially with the chief of police’s fondness of you. You loved your job and rather than only using it to your advantage, you reopened Eddie’s cold case and started putting the pieces together. Then when the first free weekend arrived, you decided to take the plunge and call out to Eddie.
Steve’s timing couldn’t have been worse. He knew his luck had changed since high school, but he never imagined it could keep fluctuating like this. Struggling to find his place in adulthood – skipping college and taking odd jobs – and then meeting you, a wanderer in the bleakest town of Indiana. What a cruel irony it was. A positive in a negative. Life seemed to revel in his misfortune, and now things were becoming even stranger.
“Really? I thought you were done with this,” Steve says, when he sees the Ouija board on the coffee table, his hands on his hips.
He was ready to pick up wherever of whatever you two were, starting with a date, but the universe decided to put another roadblock in his path. Now, here you were trying to coax him into reaching out to the dead.
“I’m not sure,” he hesitated, looking at the board then back to you. “I still think this is wrong.”
After that night, you were eager to confirm your suspicions to Steve, save for the explicit details, the next day when you visited him at his workplace. You had told him there was in fact a ghost in your trailer and it was Eddie. The mention of Eddie’s name was enough to turn Steve as white as a ghost himself. Memories of Eddie and his tragic story flooded back, leaving Steve feeling guilty for withholding this history, including how much of an asshole he and his friends were to people like Eddie, from you as you began piecing things together.
“Please, Steve,” you pleaded gently. “He’s harmless. Maybe we can help him.”
“How do you even know he’s still here?” Steve asked, noting your absence of recent complaints about any oddities occurring.
“Well, then there’s nothing to be scared of, right?” you countered his question.
“I’m not scared,” he huffed, to which you raised your eyes in response, silently challenging him to prove it.
“Fine,” he relented with a sigh, rolling his eyes before joining you on the couch.
As you lit the strategically placed candles around the living room and dimmed the lights, Steve attempted to make light of the situation, “Candles, really?” he joked, attempting to mask his discomfort. “Isn’t that a bit cliche?” His forced chuckle faltered when he saw the serious expression on your face, and he quickly apologized under his breath.
Instead of sitting next to him, you settled across on the floor. Instructing Steve to place his hands on the planchette with you, you closed your eyes, he mimicked, and called out into the void.
“Is there someone here with us?” you asked, allowing a moment for a response, filled with patience and hope.
Steve, on the other hand, cautiously peeked one eye to ensure your safety, then quickly shut it again, bracing himself for whatever might materialize out of thin air. He waits for the next move, only that next move didn’t come from you.
To your surprise, both of your hands suddenly jerked to the word YES on the Ouija board.
“Holy Shit!” Steve exclaimed, pulling away from the planchette and scooting far from the Ouija board.
“Steve!” you scolded, annoyed that he broke the connection.
“It moved!” he cried out, pointing to the pieces on the table. “The thing fucking moved!”
“Yes, that’s what happens when you use a Ouija board to talk to the dead,” you replied.
“You’re not fucking with me, right?” He asks, eyes wild and scared.
“No! Why would I do that? I have better things to do than a thing like that!” you responded appalled by that kind of accusation.
“I think we should stop before this gets dangerous,” Steve cautioned, slowly regaining his composure.
“What danger? Nothing happened,” you asked, puzzled.
“Nothing yet!” Steve retorted, his voice overwhelming you. Seeing you visibly flinch made him feel terrible. He sighed deeply, ran his hands over his face, and then apologized. The topic of this ghost was a touchy subject and continued to stress him out. He hadn’t planned on entertaining the idea until tonight.
“Look,” he began again, adopting a calmer tone. “All I’m saying is, we don’t know who we’re talking to or what we’re dealing with, and that is dangerous,” he reasoned.
“Eddie,” you corrected him, but he was confused. “It’s Eddie. We’re talking to Eddie.”
“Okay, how do we even know that? We could be talking to another lost soul,” Steve countered skeptically.
“Again, there’s only one way to find out,” you replied, nodding in the direction of the table again, urging him to continue communication.
He sighed once more, “You just don’t give up, do you?”
“Nope! Now come on,” resuming your position, knowing you roped him back in.
You posed your initial question again, receiving the same affirmative response. The light gasp from Steve confirmed he was still internally spooked by the unfolding events. Resisting the urge to wrap your arms around him and run your fingers through his thick hair the way he liked just to provide comfort, you stayed focused on the task at hand.
“Who is with us?” you asked, instructing Steve to open his eyes as your hands guided the planchette to spell out Eddie’s name.
“Son of a bitch, Munson,” Steve muttered to himself. There was no malice in his voice, only profound shock. Steve is terrible at concealing his emotions, and you could see him struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. He was talking to someone who he used to know, and that someone was dead. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Lost in your own thoughts, you began to wonder if involving Steve was the right decision. You had been so determined to make someone believe you that you hadn’t considered how he would react. Not everyone shared your enthusiasm for the supernatural. Moreover, what exactly were you planning to do to help Eddie pass on?
Suddenly, the trailer began to rumble and vibrate, as if caught in an earthquake. The lights flickered, interrupting your thoughts, alerting you both on your feet and deciding the next move would be to safety. Steve looked around anxiously for an area of the trailer to seek refuge. The tension in the air escalated, leaving you frozen in place, uncertain of what was happening. A sharp pain shot through you, your head immediately started to pound, but when you tried to let out a scream, nothing came out. It was only when the rumbling ceased that a loud thud echoed through the room, snapping Steve’s attention.
“No,” Steve cursed under his breath, realizing where the noise came from. “No, no no, no, no. Fuck!” He exclaimed, nearly leaping over the table to attend to your unconscious body off the floor.
Something felt different.
Though it was hard to articulate, you felt lighter. A sense of ease and freedom from worries – it felt good.
Confusion sets in as you recall the last memory of sitting in your living room with the Ouija board laid out and Steve in front of you. Panic gripped as you scanned the room, you discovered that you were alone.
Had Steve left?
Had he finally grown tired of your bullshit?
You picked yourself up from the ground and it was then you noticed your surroundings. It was your living room, but only it wasn’t. The furniture, decoration and accents were not yours.
Your mind is wrecked with uncertainty. Where do you go from here? You’re ready to run back to Steve and admit he was right – maybe you were nuts. The dead were better off left alone. Not only did you spook Eddie, now Steve.
Your thoughts are broken by a voice calling out your name – an unfamiliar yet strangely comforting voice. Turning towards the source, you were shocked by who you saw.
It was Eddie Munson.
He stood a few feet away, partially hidden by the doorway to a room, looking slightly apprehensive. You, on the other hand, are perplexed by the situation. He said multiple times he couldn’t show himself to you. Yet, here he is and you could also hear him.
“Eddie?” you managed to croak out, your voice hoarse and strained. Attempting to clear your throat only resulted in a fit of dry coughs.
“Whoa,” Eddie cautioned as he hurried to assist you. “Take it easy, sweetheart. You’ve been out for a few days.” Seeing you wince as you struggled to swallow your own spit in an attempt to soothe your throat, he swiftly moved to the kitchen area to fetch a glass of water.
You nearly choked on the water as you gulped it down greedily, shocked by his admission of you being unconscious for days.
“Days?!” you exclaimed, setting the glass down and wiping your mouth. How many days had it been? “You just let me lie there?” Your voice boomed incredulously, causing Eddie to flinch slightly.
“Well, I couldn’t exactly take you anywhere,” he replied, trying to keep up with your barrage of questions.
“Why not?” you demanded, your mind racing.
“We’re not in Hawkins,” he responded, but none of it made sense to you because you’re in your trailer, which as far as you knew was located in Hawkins.
“What? Where are we then?” you asked, feeling disoriented and confused. You must’ve hit your head harder than you thought.
“You’re sort of in between…like purgatory”, Eddie began to explain, carefully choosing his words.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, unwilling to accept his answer.
“Look, I was just as skeptical of this as you were, but after a while, it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere,” he replied, and you could tell he was growing frustrated at your stubbornness. “Whether you believe it or not, sweetheart, you’re stuck here.”
You try to ignore the stirring feeling of the harmless pet name he kept using. It almost feels the same way when Steve calls you honey…
“Okay, but how?” That was the burning question. And why were you here? “How did I get here? Why am I here?” you asked. Did you die?
“Beats me,” Eddie shrugs, unsure himself. “One second you and pretty boy were asking me questions, and the next, it was like the world turned upside down.” Well, that explains the earthquake at least.
“Steve,” you muttered his name to yourself, feeling a wave of panic again. “Where’s Steve?” you asked desperately, locking eyes with Eddie. Was he stuck here too? He seemed to be wrestling with himself on how to answer you.
“He’s at the hospital,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Before you could start worrying, he quickly added, “He’s fine…you passed out and he took you to the hospital.”
Relief temporarily washed over you knowing you didn’t in fact die and that Steve was alive and okay, but Eddie was still not making any sense. “Eddie, how is that possible when I’m right here?”
“No, you-you, is at the hospital in Hawkins…on the other side,” he finally revealed with a grave expression.
Steve didn’t waste any time.
He scoops up your body and rushes straight to the nearest emergency room. To his surprise, there was no evidence of an earthquake or any natural disaster. The medical staff looked at him confused, questioning if he had checked the weather report for the day. One even had the audacity to ask if he sustained a head injury himself. It only infuriated him because he didn’t need them attending to him, he needed them to focus on you. You weren’t waking up.
After stabilizing you and conducting necessary tests that provided little reassurance to Steve beyond the fact that you would recover once you woke up, albeit with uncertainty about when that would be.
“Shit,” Steve muttered, biting his knuckle in frustration as he stared at your unconscious figure. “I knew we shouldn’t have messed with that stupid board.” He mentally berated himself for not being persistent enough to dissuade you.
Steve rarely left your room. The incessant beeping noise from the machine could have been maddening, but he blocked it out, patiently waiting for you to awaken from your coma. He managed to take a few days off from work and informed his friend, Robin, on his whereabouts. Robin, knowing how much Steve adored you, understood that he needed support and solace at this moment.
Having met you several times at gatherings with Steve, Robin grew fond of you, particularly because you brought happiness to her friend. She convinced Steve not to neglect his own life though. While he could afford a few days away from work, he still needed to take care of himself.
Steve reluctantly agreed with Robin and decided that one night away wouldn’t hurt. She argued that a few hours of rest would benefit him. So, he returned home, showered, ate something other than cafeteria food, and slept in his own bed instead of the uncomfortable chair in your hospital room – though “slept” was hardly the right word.
His mind was consumed with thoughts about what transpired with the Ouija board. Where have you gone? Why was this experience different from the first time you used it? Was it Eddie’s doing or something worse? Would you ever awaken? Frustrated and determined, Steve resolved to seek answers himself.
Returning to your trailer, he found the Ouija board exactly where you had left it. He felt somewhat foolish as he re-lit the candles around the room and picked up the planchette that had fallen during the commotion. Taking a deep breath, he called out to the first person who could help. Eddie.
If you could pass out again, you would.
Was it even possible to lose consciousness when you were already untethered from your body? Where would you go next? Hell? An empty void?
The realization deflated you. You plopped down on the couch, looking over at Eddie, who stood a few feet away, almost scared, unsure of your next move.
“Well, make yourself at home,” you say, patting the seat next to you. “It is yours, technically.”
He hesitated, then carefully made his way over. He sat with a tentative lightness, afraid he might slip right through the furniture. The silence that followed was suffocating. Eddie rubbed his hands over the denim of his dark, ripped jeans to soothe himself. A sudden, dry laugh cut through the thick air, making him jump slightly.
“This is all my fault.” At least you felt like it was as you reclined against the back of the sofa, tossing your head back and covering your eyes with your arm.
Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. You didn't expect a response anyway. The truth was just spewing out of you now, a dam breaking after months of haunting.
“I wanted to see you again so bad, Eddie. I spent every night going through your records and looking for a sign, anything...but you never gave me one. I got so obsessed that I almost killed myself just to find you.”
“You wanted to see me… again?” he asked. His voice was small, cracked with vulnerability. The admission hit Eddie like a ton of bricks.
Your eyes snapped open. The weight of what you’d just admitted out loud settled in your chest. You pushed yourself upright, turning to face him fully. His eyes were wide, dark, and searching yours for a lie you weren't telling.
“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding slowly. “I thought I’d scared you away. You weren’t around anymore, and I thought maybe you’d moved on...or that I crossed a line when we-”
“I never left,” he interrupts, his voice barely a whisper. He looked away, a faint, spectral flush creeping up his neck. “I thought I’d gone too far. That night...in your bed. I figured the best thing I could do for you was stay in the walls. Let you have your life back.”
“No, Eddie,” you said. You reached out, your hand hovering just above his. “I wanted it. I wanted you there.” You could feel the static pull and you wondered. Could you actually feel him here? You let your hand drop and a wave of relief coursed through you as the warmth of his hand seeped into your cold palm. You could actually touch him. “I wanted more.”
Eddie looked down at where your hands met—the living and the dead, together. He turned his palm up, his fingers curling around yours, squeezing lightly.
“I want more, too,” he rasped.
“You do?” The question barely poses as one. You just needed to hear him say it.
“Yeah,” he admits, "You have no idea how many times I've tried to imagine it. How many times I-“ he doesn’t get to finish his confession because that was all the opening you needed before colliding into him.
The kiss was desperate, a mess of teeth and tongue with the sense of chasing something that felt long overdue. Your hands were everywhere at once – along the column of his neck, the firm planes of his chest, the dips of his ribs and down the narrow line of his waist just above his belt.
Eddie on the other hand was aching but hesitant to touch you, hands still planted behind him keeping him steady from when you launched yourself at him, but you weren’t having none of it. Grabbing his wrists, you forced his ring-clad fingers to your waist, digging them into your skin. The groan that slipped past your lips into his mouth sent a violent vibration through him, making his blood rush. You needed him to know you weren't going anywhere and that you really wanted this. It seemed to do the trick as his hands wandered between the valley of your breasts, the reluctance now replaced by unashamed urgency.
You push Eddie into a reclining position to settle on top of him, legs caging his hips, your fingers tangling in his wild curls and lips tracing a feverish path from the sharp line of his jaw down to the pulse of his neck until you’re slowly sinking to your knees between his legs.
"You don’t…” his eyes searched for any sign of doubt.
"No, I want to..." you insisted, voice low but steady with pulsing intent.
The click of the buckle gave way, loud in the small trailer. You huff in frustration, your fingers at the waistband, unable to pull down his jeans because of his dead weight. Sensing your struggle, he lifts his hips to help you strip the layers of denim and cotton from his body, hissing at the rush of cool air that hits his skin.
Your gaze lingers and mouth watering as his cock twitches with the sudden exposure. Eddie let out a long, shaky sigh – half-relief and half-surrender – as you wrap one hand, then the other around him. Fuck, he really is that big. He lets out a low groan when you start to stroke his length, his fingers digging into the cushion.
"I’ve thought long about how I wanted to return the favor...from that night” you murmur, pumping slowly, lost in the softness of him under your hands. Eddie’s head hits the back of the couch, eyes fluttering shut. You watch in a daze as his precum oozes out of his slit and trickles down, the slick gathering in your messy hands. You wanted a taste so badly. You stop momentarily, which causes him to pick his head back up only to see you resting your head against the meat of his thigh, eyes big and mouth parted.
"The night you made me feel so good, Eddie," you whisper against his skin and plant open mouth kisses to his thigh before picking up the pace of your strokes once more. He swears under his breath when you lean in, poking your tongue out at his slit, the taste sending a burst of flavor onto your tastebuds. You trace the rim of his tip before sealing your lips around the head, easing into a slow steady rhythm up and down. You pull back just enough to savor his taste for a moment, hands sliding along his shaft, spreading the slick as you pause to catch your breath.
"Shit, sweetheart," he chokes as you take more of him in, enjoying the way it feels when his abdominal muscles ripple and tighten under your touch. His hands thread into your hair, holding you there as he watches, the shape of him pressing boldly against the inside of your cheek and basking in the warmth of your mouth closing around him.
“If I wasn’t already dead, you’d be the death of me.” You now move at an agonizing pace, reducing him to mindless babbling, especially when you cup and knead his balls.
It’s when he feels your throat contract around the tip of his cock, he quickly reaches out for you. The sensation threatened to undo him completely. You reluctantly agree to pull away, a drooling mess, after hearing his incessant pleas to release him.
He’s quick to remove his leather jacket but just before he can fully rid himself of it, he pauses, seeing you reach for the hem of your shirt. The mounds of our breasts, restrained by your bra, out on display, gaze darkening with renowned lust. Your movements felt slow and deliberate especially when you moved them to unhook the garment, and Eddie was eager to see more skin.
The fabric of your bottoms pools at your ankles until you kick them away, leaving you almost completely exposed but still vulnerable in the dimly lit room.
His hands reach for your waist, pulling them close to face level, so he can press soft kisses to either side of your hips while his eyes are looking up at you through his shaggy bangs. He wasn’t just looking at you; he was worshiping you. His fingers hook into the thin, delicate material of your underwear, knuckles grazing the skin of your hips as they begin the slow descent of your legs.
You gently push him back so you could reclaim your seat on his lap once more. The scent of leather and smoke invades your nostrils as you peel away the heavy jacket from his frame, his Hellfire baseball tee following suit.
Gawking at the ink that litters his pale skin, your fingers feel like ice against him as you messily trace the outline of the design. Seeing Eddie like this, branded by his own rebellion was turning you on, and made you bite your lip hard to ground yourself. A fleeting thought of Steve crossed your mind - unmarked and devoid of a dangerous edge - and the contrast to Eddie made the air in the room much thicker.
The friction of your bodies made your heads spin as you grind against his cock. Every shift of your weight causes him to involuntarily thrust upwards where you met. Eddie was a blur when he suddenly had you on your back, his body instantly hovering over yours.
His mouth seeking yours in a frantic kiss, dark curls falling like a curtain around your face. One hand braced beside your head while the other slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You swallow his moans as his hips roll, dragging out the friction until it’s almost unbearable.
“God” he breathes, pulling back just a fraction, lips slick and swollen, dark eyes blown wide. Pulling back he searches your eyes for that final, silent permission.
“Please,” you nod eagerly, guiding his cock to your entrance, rubbing the tip through your wet folds for easy entry. When he finally pushes forward, the crown breaching, a sharp gasp escapes you both - finding relief in something that’s been far too long denied.
Rhythm comes naturally to Eddie as he soon begins to move, unhurried, savoring every moment inside of you. Each thrust builds toward that white-hot intensity you crave. You feel the fullness of him consume you, the initial sting of each thrust eased into a deep, satisfying pleasure.
He finds your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours, pinning them above your head with a possessive grip, like he’s afraid you might vanish.
“I can’t-I need to cum, Eddie.” you choke, voice wrecked as the pressure coils tight in your belly.
“Look at me,” he rasps, forcing your gaze to his dark eyes blown wide, glossy with need.
He needed to see it, the moment before the dam breaks - when you shatter for him.
"I’m close,” you whimper, your back arching off the cushions, as tiny sparks race through you, ready to explode.
“Yeah?” he asks, mouth hot against your neck. His grip tightens, hips slowing as he drags himself through you inch by agonizing inch, each deeper than the previous.
“Eddie, please” your head thrashing back against the cushion, fingers digging between his as the tension in your core twisted into an aching knot.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” his lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low with a primal rumble. “Let go,” he instructs while refocusing his attention on you.
That was it. Your release tears through you with a sharp, visceral gasp. You cry out as it hits you hard - like an old guitar string snapping and white-hot shock waves that momentarily blind you.
Eddie’s struggling to keep it together as he watches the tears track down your face. You don’t want him to hold on any longer, desperate to see him cum.
“Inside,” you breathed, “Do it, inside me,” you repeat the broken.
His release crashes into him with a rush, your name tearing from his lips. You barely have time to catch your breath before his face starts to crack, he dips his head, but you catch his jaw. It’s your turn to watch him. You force his eyes to stay on yours - you want to watch him come undone. He’s not far long, not with the way your pussy pulses around him, before he goes rigid.
“Fuck,” you groan, feeling him spill deep inside, his body wrecked with tremors as his climax rippled through him. Your name falls repeatedly from his lips followed by a low, guttural moan after the last spurt.
When he finally pulls out, he hisses softly, catching the mess as it spills freely, staining the couch—thankfully, no one here to care.
He rolls onto his side next to you, the small space keeping you close. One arm slips around your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles as you both breathe through the last of it. The world feels distant now, quiet, soft. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple and pulls you closer, giving you all the time you need to catch your breath.
Free.
You felt free here, wherever or whatever here was, you still weren’t sure.
"I could stay like this forever," you whispered, closing your eyes. "I could just forget about everything. I could die happy…here with you."
The reason you didn't want to go back wasn't just about Eddie; it was about the crushing weight of a world that felt too demanding. And here? There were no expectations. There were no stressors and no more searching for answers that were impossible or would take a lifetime to find. Here you were free.
As much as Eddie wanted to hear that, he knew it wasn’t appropriate. "Don't say that,” he responds, his breath fanning your lips.
"Why not?" You ask as you trace the black orb of the lone ring he wore on his right hand.
"Because I know what forever looks like for a guy like me," his voice dipping into vulnerable territory. "It’s a void. And you... you're a brightness with a future ahead." He looks down at you and pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with an almost desperate grip. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent.
You didn’t have an answer to that, so you both lied there in the silence, holding onto a lie because the truth was too heavy to carry.
The room suddenly started to grow cold and vibrate.
It was a low-frequency hum that was all too familiar for Eddie that it made the hair on the back of his neck stand. He’d been through this before. Twice with you when you tried to reach out to him via the Ouija board. He was in the middle of putting his clothes back on, when he lost his balance sliding on his boots.
You reached out, steadying him, "Eddie? What’s happening?" your eyes wide with fear and concern.
"I don't know," he gritted out, his form flickering like a bad television signal. "It feels like... someone is trying to talk to me…through the Ouija board.” The hum grew louder.
The veil between this world and yours was thinning, and through the static, a voice bled through. It was faint, desperate, and unmistakably familiar.
"Is it Steve?" you asked instantly, your voice rising with a frantic sort of hope. "Is he using the board to find us?"
The name hit Eddie harder than the invisible force pulling at his soul. He saw the way your expression shifted, the spark of light in your eyes at the mere mention of him. It caused a sharp pang in his chest that had nothing to do with the supernatural. Even here, in this hollowed-out version of reality, Steve was the anchor you were looking for.
Eddie wanted to say something witty to mask his jealousy, but he didn't have time to process it as he started to slowly disappear. Only he could hear Steve’s voice clearly because it was him being summoned, not you.
"Eddie, wait!" You lunged for him, but your fingers passed right through. He didn’t even get to answer you because he suddenly vanished.
The silence that followed was absolute. The humming stopped, the vibrations ceased, and you were left standing there alone. And for the first time since arriving, the shadows of this purgatory began to weigh in on you.
Steve had to do this.
He was internally arguing with himself as he sat in front of the Ouija board again. His knuckles were white as he gripped the planchette, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.
“Come on, I know you’re lurking around here, Munson,” Steve called out, almost unsure. Was Eddie still here? His voice was steady, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes - the fear of a man who was running out of options.
Eddie watched from the corner of the room. He’d been trying to stay hidden, fighting the pull of the board, but as amusing as it was watching "King Steve" fumble with the occult, it was almost too painful to watch.
Steve was beginning to grow frustrated until finally the planchette jerked under his hands.
“There you are!” Steve exhaled, his head snapping up to the empty air where Eddie stood. He hadn’t revealed himself yet, so he was looking at an empty room, but by God was he proud of himself for getting this to work.
Ever since your energy intertwined with Eddie, he found it easier to appear where he wanted. The board would take longer, so he allowed himself to materialize in front of Steve. “What the hell do you want, Harrington?”
“Oh, good. You remember me,” Steve said, a dry, nervous laugh trailing behind.
“The fuck? Of course, I remember you. You don't exactly forget the guy who spent four years being the biggest douche to you in high school.”
“Come on. I’m sorry. Really, but that’s not me anymore,” Steve pleaded. He looked at the board, then back at Eddie. “Would I be here fucking with a Ouija board, talking to a ghost, if I hadn't changed? I’m doing this for her.”
Eddie’s posture stiffened. The sarcasm drained out of him, replaced by a dark, protective cloak. “You know where she is, don’t you?” Steve pressed.
He could see Eddie fighting an internal battle, his spectral form flickering with the intensity of it. “Eddie, if you know where she is, you can bring her back. You have to.” Steve begged.
“What if she doesn’t want to come back,” Eddie said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
The words hit Steve like a physical blow. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Did she tell you that?”
Eddie went silent, staring at the floor. You had mentioned it, but you never confirmed it. You didn’t know what you wanted. The silence was an answer in itself, and it gutted Steve. He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “Look, Eddie, you’ve gotten some time to know her. You know how she is…how she gets when she’s scared or overwhelmed-”
“She’s not scared or overwhelmed, Harrington. Maybe she’s tired of living in a world that doesn't care. She deserves better. She’s special.”
“I know she is,” Steve agreed. “But you know she has to come back. This isn't her time. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry you’re stuck here, but you can’t let her stay just because you’re lonely. You have to let her live.” As harsh as it sounded, Eddie knew he was right. “Bring her back, please.”
“I don’t know how!” Eddie yelled, the trailer shook with his frustration.
“What?”
“I said I don’t know how! I’m a ghost, Harrington, not a god! I can’t even leave this trailer, let alone cross to the other side. You think if I had that kind of power, I’d still be in Hawkins? Even when I was alive, all I wanted to do was get the hell out of this town.”
Steve stared at him, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “So, she’s stuck? Until her body just… gives up?” He looked down at the board, a desperate idea forming…and like a lightbulb going off, he came up with one. “The board. Can I use it to reach her?”
“I don’t know. She isn't dead,” Eddie said skeptically.
“But you’re in the same place, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then if I can reach you, I can reach her too.” Steve’s eyes lit up with hope. He wasn’t wrong. You did hear him after all, but whether you could reveal yourself to Steve through the Ouija board was a different thing.
Deciding on his next move, Steve frantically began setting up the planchette on the Ouija board again. “Alright, good talk. I guess you can go back to doing whatever ghost stuff it is that you do. I need to focus on bringing her back.”
Eddie blinked, a dry smirk returning to his face. “Rude.”
“Hey, Munson,” Steve called out just as Eddie began to fade into the shadows. Steve looked at him with wholehearted sincerity. “I really am sorry. For everything. For high school, for the way things ended… all of it. Even for now.”
Eddie paused, his form slowly evaporating. Now. He was even apologizing for you. He looked at Steve and finally saw the man he had become. The one that you were so fond of.
“Whatever, Harrington,” Eddie murmured. “Just make sure, whatever she decides on… she’s happy.”
As Eddie vanished, he felt a strange weightlessness. For the first time since he’d died, the bitterness didn't feel so heavy.
Your voice is fragile as you materialize in front of him.
“Steve?”
"Oh, thank God! It worked—it actually worked!" Steve said letting out a huge sigh of relief, the crushing pressure of his plan gone now that you’re here.
The sound of his voice anchored you. You turned toward the source, your feet moving before your brain could even process the reality of him. You collided in the center of the room, Steve’s arms wrapping around you tightly.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, his face pale and etched with exhaustion. "What are you doing? Are you using the Ouija board?"
A million questions spiraled through your mind. Steve hated that board; he was a man of logic and tangible things.
"I got desperate," he admitted, his breath hitching. "I needed to find you. I couldn't just sit there while you slipped away... to wherever you've been." He paused, his expression flickered with the pain he’s been put through the last few days. "I got to Eddie before I found you."
The name hit you like a physical blow. "You talked to Eddie?"
The way your voice cracked was all the confirmation Steve needed. In that silent, heavy beat of air between you, the truth settled. He knew. He knew about how you’d developed feelings for the boy the rest of the world had branded a monster.
"Oh," you whispered, dropping your gaze.
"Honey, I need you to come back," Steve pleaded, his grip tightening on your shoulders. He wouldn’t allow himself to give up now. He would fight for you.
"I don't know how. Steve, I think... I think I’m tied to him. To Eddie."
Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What does that mean?"
"I don’t know if it’ll work but I think I know who did it. I know who killed him," you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth. "I think if we can get the rest of Hawkins to see the truth, then maybe I can come back and Eddie can move on…” This had to be the solution, right? At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself when you were alone earlier. “But unless I can wake up, I need you to be my hands, Steve. I need you to prove it."
"How? I don't even know where to start."
"My desk," you frantically said gaze moving towards the corner of the room. "The stack of papers next to my computer.” You both race the short distance to the tiny table.
You saw his eyes scan the chaotic landscape of your desk until they landed on the folder labeled E. Munson. As he flipped it open, the silence stretched. He hadn't realized how far down the rabbit hole you went.
"I know it’s pathetic," you murmured, watching his stunned face. "I’ve been living in Eddie’s case files for weeks. You probably think I’ve lost my mind, but Hopper let me reopen the case."
"No," Steve said, his head snapping up to meet your eyes. “This is what you do. You help people. It’s not pathetic. This is incredible. I just didn't realize..."
"I know where the murderer is, Steve. He’s in Hawkins’ Correctional Facility."
Steve blinked, the gears turning. "Okay. He’s in jail already. Who am I looking for? Some drifter? An out-of-towner?"
"Jason Carver."
The name hung in the air like a curse. "Carver? Whoa. Wait. You’re saying Jason Carver killed Eddie Munson?"
"Why is that so hard to believe? It makes perfect sense, Steve. He had a motive."
"No, you’re right," Steve conceded, his voice dropping an octave. "It’s just... how has nobody seen this? How is he sitting in a cell for something else while this stays buried?"
"Because no one can prove it and because no one cares about a freak, right?," you said bitterly. "Who else in this godforsaken town was going to get Eddie justice? His uncle? A few 'freaks' from the Hellfire Club? No one was going to take them seriously. They need a voice."
Steve looked at you, a new kind of warmth, and a trace of something like jealousy, shining in his eyes. He admired the passion you had for your work and advocacy for victims, but he was also annoyed at the amount of attention you put into and gave Eddie. You barely knew him. "You. You are going to do it, Detective."
"Steve, don't—"
"I’m not mocking you," he interrupted softly. "I think it’s pretty badass. You solved a cold case from a hospital bed or in another dimension technically. You almost got yourself killed doing it, but you solved it." He looked away for a second, his jaw tight. "I’m going to bring you back. And then we’re going to finish this."
“I don’t know if this is going to actually work, Steve, but I want to try everything we can to help Eddie pass on,” you whispered.
"It will work and he will. Because of you." Steve assures you, bringing you into his arms again before his time with you is up.
"So, Steve? Will you go to prison?" You ask, looking at him while resting your chin against his chest.
Eddie grew restless as he awaited your return.
“Oh, cool. You’re back!” he said, taking a few strides to you. While he was relieved you were back, the heavy expression on your face couldn’t keep him from asking what was wrong.
“I know who did it,” you whispered. You didn’t need to elaborate. He knew who you were talking about.
“It?” Eddie tilted his head, his dark curls falling over his face.
You reached up to brush the strands away and nodded slowly. “Who?” he asked.
“Jason.”
Eddie’s expression shifted from confusion to a cold realization. “Son of a bitch,” he breathed, a bitter laugh escaping him. He looked away, in disbelief of not putting it together himself years ago.
“I’m sorry, Eddie.”
“No.” He shook his head sharply. “It should’ve been obvious, right?”
“This town treated you so horribly,” you said, reaching your hand out to place it on his arm as a sign of comfort, although it was you who probably needed the comfort with your eyes beginning to swell up with tears for Eddie. “He got away with it.”
“Hey, sweetheart. None of that.” Eddie said, referring to your tears and stepped closer, voice softening. “I’m fine. You’re here with me now. I’m fine.”
You took a shaky breath, the reality of what you had to do pressing against your chest. “Eddie, I can’t stay here.”
“What? Yes, you can. You said it yourself. You’re here now. You can do whatever you want.”
“I want to go home, Eddie.”
His face contorted, a flash of hurt crossing his features then anger. The words just flowed as he spoke, “It’s Steve, huh?”
“Please don’t bring him into this,” you pleaded.
“But he’s got a role in all this, doesn’t he?” Eddie paced the small space, his movements jagged. He knew letting Steve talk to you would make you change your mind. “King Steve, coming to the rescue of the damsel in distress.”
“He’s not who you thought he was, Eddie. He’s changed.”
“Sure, that’s rich,” Eddie snapped, his voice echoing against the walls. “I’ve known him my whole life and he’s done nothing but made my life a living hell. Why is he the one you're choosing?” The rage just took over him. It was like high school all over again - guys like Steve always won.
“Because he’s out there helping get justice for you!” You stood your ground, your voice rising to match his. “I asked him to go to the prison. I asked him to get the truth out of Jason. He’s the key, Eddie. He’s the one who can help you finally move on.”
Eddie froze. The anger drained out of him, leaving him looking smaller. “I don’t want to move on.”
“Why? Aren’t you tired of being stuck in this trailer?”
“I was,” Eddie said, his voice barely a whisper. He looked around the room, then back at you. “I was so tired of it… until you moved in. You gave me a reason to stay.”
The honesty in his voice broke something inside you. You stepped into his space, reaching out to take his hands. They felt like mist and ice, but you held on anyway.
“Eddie,” you said softly. “I know I didn't know you when you were alive. And yeah, you absolutely terrorized me when I first moved in. But you’re so special to me. You hit me harder than anyone I’ve ever known.” You felt tears prickling your eyes. “I would love to stay here. My heart hurts for the life you didn't get to live. Maybe in another world, we would've had a chance. But it was wrong of me to give you false hope and stay here when you know I still have my own life to live.”
Eddie looked down at your joined hands, accepting your decision, “I do. I know.”
You leaned in, closing the gap between your lips, a goodbye disguised as a promise.
“I’ll never forget you, Eddie Munson.”
A thick pane of plexiglass separated the two former kings of Hawkins High, but the tension between them was enough to shatter it.
Jason Carver looked different. Prison did a number on him since he last remembered the Golden Boy. The varsity jacket was gone, replaced by a drab orange jumpsuit, but the self-righteous fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed. He sat down, the phone receiver clattering as he picked it up.
“Harrington?”
“Carver,” Steve replied, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth he usually carried.
“What an unusual surprise.” Jason leaned back, a smug smile on his face. “Still hanging around Hawkins, huh? Love this shithole that much?”
“I’m not here for small talk, Carver.” Steve gripped the receiver tight. He could feel the slight itch of the wire taped to his chest - a wire that led directly to Hopper, who was sitting in a surveillance van just outside the gates. It took a while to get him to agree to this, but with proof of your findings and one mention of your name, the Chief of Police knew he couldn’t turn away.
“Okay, so what do I owe this lovely visit? Come to talk about the good old days? Back when people actually respected us?”
Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes but instead narrowed them as he leaned in. He needed to push the right buttons. He needed Jason to feel superior. “I’m going to get straight to it. I can help you, but I need you to be honest with what I’m about to ask you. Can you do that?”
Jason sat there for a few seconds, seemingly contemplating this whole interaction. Why does Steve care? Then again, he’s been here a few years and he can confidently say he hates prison, so he takes the bait on a faster ticket out. He lost his glory days, his girlfriend, his freedom. What else does he have left?
“Did you really kill Chrissy? People are talking again, Jason. They say you snapped.”
Jason went stone cold. The smugness vanished, replaced by an anger that made his knuckles turn white as he gripped the phone. “Of course not, you asshole. I loved her.”
“It was just a question,” Steve said, raising a hand dismissively. “If you didn’t do it, then why are you here? Why take the fall?”
“I didn’t. This town is corrupt!” Jason hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating pitch. “Hopper and his goons weren’t doing a damn thing to get Chrissy justice. We all know who really killed her. They wanted to prolong it with useless trials and bullshit. They were going to let a monster walk free.”
Steve felt his heart gallop. This was it. “The actual murderer? You know who actually killed Chrissy? Come on, Jason. Everyone knows you’re just in here because you couldn't prove it was anyone else.” Steve pushed.
Steve wasn’t wrong. Jason was found guilty of Chrissy’s murder. He knew he couldn’t control her anymore and the closer they approached graduation, he knew she’d be leaving him and he couldn’t take that. His male ego wouldn’t let him have it. Him believing he could pin her murder on someone else, someone like Eddie Munson, showed the type of God complex he possessed. He didn’t expect the town to give the freak a fair trial. He believed Eddie was guilty of corrupting his girlfriend and he was outraged.
Jason slammed his free hand against the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “I had to take care of him myself.”
“You were found to be Chrissy’s murderer by the court, Jason,” Steve prodded, his voice smooth and doubting. “What do you mean you 'took care' of him?”
“Someone had to take Munson out and I knew it had to be me! He corrupted her!” Jason barked, the confession spilling out of him like venom. He leaned in close to the glass, his eyes manic. “I cornered that freak. I watched the light go out of his eyes, Steve. I gave Chrissy the peace the police wouldn't. I killed Eddie Munson, and I’d do it again a thousand times over.”
A heavy silence followed. Jason looked triumphant, as if he expected Steve to nod in solemn, comraderic approval.
Instead, Steve cracked a slight smirk. It wasn't a friendly smile; it was the look of a man who had just won a game the other person didn't even know they were playing. He reached up and lightly scratched at his chest, right over the hidden microphone.
“Thanks, Jason,” Steve said, his voice now chillingly calm. “That’s exactly what the Chief needed to hear.”
Jason’s face drained of color. He looked at Steve’s chest, then back at his eyes, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. Before he could scream or lunge at the glass, the heavy steel doors at the back of the room swung open. Two guards marching toward him.
“Eddie’s name will officially be cleared,” Steve said, standing up but not before leaving him with parting words, “And you? You’re never seeing the sun again,” then hanging the receiver back on the hook.
As the guards hauled a shouting, struggling Jason Carver away, Steve walked out of the prison. Before he meets up with Hopper, he looks up at the bright, afternoon sky.
“We got him, Honey,” he whispered. “You did it.”
There was a moment where the urgency to return to the hospital, to the beeping monitors and Steve’s worried face vanished.
The "other side" didn't matter anymore. When the trailer didn't feel like a cage or a crime scene, but a sanctuary.
The stress of the real world didn’t exist here. The endless bills and late payments you could barely scrap up the money for. The late nights at the station that made you feel your aspirations to become a detective seemed far away. The guilt you felt for blowing people off because you were exhausted. The confusing feelings you had towards Steve. None of those were here. The world had a way of wishing you’d just disappear. Perhaps, this is what you were looking for when you left home and set out to Hawkins. Maybe you needed to encounter Eddie to find solace. But did you have to be dead? Almost dead.
A few days had passed, and you thought more and more about the plan you and Steve concocted. Was it worth trying? What if it failed? What would be your next move? How long could you afford to be hooked up at the hospital? The damning thoughts earlier were going persistent each time. It had to work.
You gasped, clutching your arm. The warmth of Eddie’s body, still encapsulating you, suddenly felt fleeting.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Eddie’s eyes widened with immediate concern.
“My arm,” you whispered, the pain making your vision swim. “It’s… it’s like I’m being pulled. I think-“ the pain was so intense you couldn’t finish your sentence, but you both knew what was beginning to happen. You just didn’t think it would be soon. Your body was calling you. Your life, your future was tugging you away from this suspended reality.
You leaned your forehead against his chest, the faint chill of his form a stark contrast to the burning pain in your arm. “I don’t want to leave you yet.”
He squeezed his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever had before. “I know, sweetheart. God, I know. But you said it yourself. You have a life to live. And I… I’ve lived mine.” He pulled back, holding your face in his hands and leaning in to kiss your lips. His touch was cold, but tender.
“Eddie,” you whisper against his lips, his image beginning to blur as you reach out for him, only for your hand to pass through him again. You could faintly hear him thank you for everything before the darkness of his world imploded around you, replaced by a blinding white light and the sudden, overwhelming sensation of falling.
To everyone else, "waking up" was a miracle. To you, it felt bittersweet.
The dull ache of your arm was a reminder of a reality you had grown to dread.
Living was exhausting. Living meant waking up every day in a world where justice was a fairy tale. Living in the trailer park, people looked at you with pity. This town judged you harshly and you were stuck in it. The reality check was more than just physical pain; it was the realization that life required a bravery you weren't sure you had. And you were scared of the silence that would follow when you finally couldn't feel him anymore.
Coming back to your body felt like putting on a heavy dress. The silence of the "in-between" was shattered by the harsh, rhythmic beep... beep... beep... of the heart monitor. Loud and mechanical, it pulsed in time with the throbbing ache behind your eyes. The clinical smell of bleach and antiseptic replaced the woodsy scent you were growing accustomed to.
For a split second, you felt a phantom pressure on your hand - the lingering sensation of Eddie’s fingers you yearned for before the cold reality of a hospital bedsheet took its place. You gripped the rough, white sheets to ground yourself.
Your eyelids felt glued shut. A groan catching in your dry throat as you fought the heaviness.
"Steve?" you croaked.
Beside the bed, there was a frantic rustle of fabric and the sound of a chair scraping harshly against the floor. A hand, warm, solid, and shaking, grabbed one of yours.
"I'm here. I'm right here," Steve’s voice cracked. He sounded like he hadn't slept in a week. "Don't go back. Stay here with me, please.” He pleads noticing your eyes struggling to stay open.
When you finally forced your eyes open. The fluorescent lights were blinding, making you wince, but as your vision cleared, you saw him. Steve was leaning over you, his hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes, looking exactly like the man who had just used an Ouija board to talk to you from another dimension, went to prison to extract a confession from a murderer - all for you.
"Did you...?" you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Steve let out a breath that was half-sob, half-laugh. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper—the top sheet from your E.Munson file.
You closed your eyes for a moment, a single tear slipping out. You were back. But as you felt the warmth of Steve’s hand, a small, hollow part of your chest ached for Eddie. Not only could you still feel the faint, ghostly echo of his kiss on your lips, but as your other hand untwisted itself from the sheets, your palm revealed something hard in it - something obsidian.
Some days have passed as you eased back into the real world.
Ever since you returned, there was an air of delicacy around you. Especially now, as you carefully sit on the edge of the couch, your hands fidgeting with the ends of the blanket that Steve fetched for you. Steve, who had been with you all through physical therapy and staying with you in the trailer the last few days. He hasn’t left your side since being discharged.
"I thought I lost you," he choked out, his voice shaky. While it has been a few days, you both haven’t had the time to really talk about everything. "Honey, I would’ve spent every second of the rest of my life looking. I’d go through wherever it was you were…hell, I’d go through hell too. I’d buy every Ouija board on this planet and scream your name into the void to find you.”
Taking your hands in his, gripping them with enough pressure to convey his emotion, “I’d do it all over if it meant you ended up back here with me. I love you. I love you so much." Your heart skips as he repeated it. You’d never said it to each other until now. Somehow, you knew he always did though.
When you looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time without the fog of your own pride or the walls you’d built to protect your heart, you noticed that the thing, the person, you’d been searching when you left home was in front of you, looking at you the entire time you’ve been in Hawkins.
Love wasn't a destination you had to earn, it was the man in front of you. Steve had fought through another realm and an evil of this one for you. You could now confidently allow yourself to be loved by him, and more importantly, finally love him back with everything you had - what he deserved.
The realization hit you hard, your first instinct was, pushing your lips against his in a bruising kiss. His lips reciprocated instantly. His hands let yours go to cup your face as he kisses you with the same sense of urgency. "I love you, too, Steve," you mumble against his lips. "I think I always knew.”
A smile spreads across Steve’s face as he lets out a breathless sob, the relief of knowing the feeling was mutual.
“Hey, wait right here” he says, suddenly remembering the bag he placed on your counter.
He retrieves a small cardboard box from it and takes his seat next to you once more, “I got you something.”
"What’s this?" You asked curiously.
"Just a little something," Steve muttered, a faint pink tinting his cheeks. He always got nervous when you opened any of his gifts even though you liked every one of them. He put a lot of thought into them and they never missed because he paid attention.
You pulled back the flaps of the box and out with the layers of tissue paper. When you see the ceramic item, your breath hitches. It was the same mug that Eddie had knocked over due to his jealousy of Steve. You still remembered the sound of it shattering.
You stare at it the same way you had the original. In awe and flutter, the familiar weight in your palm, it wasn't just dishware; it was a piece of Steve. You and Steve.
"Steve," you said lightly, thumb tracing the vinyl of the silly words on it.
"I figured I’d replace the broken one." He said almost nervously, as if afraid you’d hate it. You could even hear his heart beating.
You turn to him and smile assuring. “I love it,” you say, planting another kiss on his lips. “Thank you.” You realize there was no sense in mourning the broken pieces of your old life...because like a broken mug, you could pick up the pieces and start new.
The wind at Hawkins Cemetery always seemed to blow a little colder than anywhere else in town.
Eddie’s grave had once been a site of vandalism, but today was different. The news of Jason’s confession had hit the Hawkins Post that morning. Eddie Munson was no longer a murderer; he was a victim.
"Looks like someone got here first," Steve noted, gesturing toward the now clean headstone and fresh batch of flowers in the center.
"We did it," you whispered, the words catching in your throat as you clutch the lone ring in your jacket pocket.
Steve stepped closer, looking down at the grave. "I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, Munson," his voice was low and sincere. "I spent years being a dick to guys like you just because I thought I had to. Rest easy, man."
You reach out to take Steve’s hand in yours - the same hand that had held yours while you were drifting in the dark, the one that saved you.
"You're not a ghost anymore, Eddie," you murmured, “I hope you’re happy.”
A sudden, sharp gust of wind swept through the trees. It didn't feel like the chilling, spectral kind from the trailer. It felt cool and calming. And you could’ve sworn that for a fleeting second, the faint familiar scent that once comforted you, wafted by, giving you all the assurance that you needed.
Life had moved fast after the trial.
A couple of years later, Steve now wielded a whistle and a chalkboard, finding peace and fulfillment in helping kids navigate the same hallways and field he once had.
You, on the other hand, had traded your amateur sleuth files for a badge. Your hard work and time had proven you worthy by Hopper, who aided & guided you in the direction to officially becoming a detective for the Hawkins PD. It wasn't always easy, especially with how deep you went in, treating every victim like Eddie, save for using the Ouija board, and every time you cleared a case, you felt the weight of it drift away, reminding you of the purpose. To make sure no one else ended up forgotten like Eddie was.
You’d finally managed and were convinced to move in with Steve into a new house. The dirt at the trailer park had always felt like it was clinging to something dead compared to suburbs that smelled of freshly cut grass. Right now, it smelled of a faintly sweet scent of cedar from the nursery you had spent all weekend painting, staring intently at the designs you had free handed.
"Hey, detective. You’re overthinking again. I can hear the gears turning from the hallway."
Steve teased and leaned against the doorframe, still wearing his Hawkins Baseball pullover. A whistle hung around his neck, and his hair was windblown from a long afternoon on the diamond.
"Are they crooked? I’ve been staring at them so long, you’d think I was trying to solve a case,” you ask, referring to the stars you drew on the wall, a hand resting on the gentle curve of your stomach, "Old habits die hard, I guess."
Steve walked over, wrapped his arms around you, his expression turning serious but infinitely tender. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "The only thing you need to solve is this little one’s name,” his hand resting over yours on your bump, “...and maybe what’s for dinner.” That last bit earned him a light slap. His expression softens instantly as you look up at him, dipping his head to give you a quick kiss.
“They look just fine, Picasso.” He assures you, squeezing the embrace lightly. "Think they’re going to be a shortstop or a cop?"
"I don’t know, but I hope they have your hair," you laughed, a hand reaching over so you could run your fingers through his floppy hair.
“And your spirit,” he adds, resting his chin between the crook of your neck as you lean back into him, the pair of you stare at the drawings on the wall.
You sigh gently, swaying side-to-side. "Whatever they want to do, I just hope they’ll be happy.”
Post A/N: Congrats! You made it to the end! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. It would mean a lot. Thank you for reading and to anyone that waited years for this ending. <3
Pairing: Ghost!Eddie Munson AU x Female Reader; hint of Steve Harrington x Female Reader
Summary: You summon a really friendly ghost. 👻
Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual vibes all around, masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral? [female receiving]) and language. 🚫 Minors DO NOT interact. Dabbling into the occult (use of a Ouija board).
Disclaimer: I’m a spooky bitch, but I would NEVER mess with an Ouija board. This is an AU. The upside down and the events that happen in the series Stranger Things (2016) aren’t entirely canon here.
Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers
A/N: This is a re-imagine of my Ghost!Bucky Barnes AU from years ago, but I wanted to convert it to fit with our dear boy Eddie. It’s only altered to fit a different narrative, but the smut is still closely the same. The inspiration came from an erotic audio on Reddit, so I owe it to that. There was a part two in the works, so if this goes well, I’ll continue writing it for this AU. Enjoy!
You sat there on your small couch of the trailer you had just moved into about six months ago, staring at the unopened brown rectangular box placed on your coffee table, contemplating on unboxing it. A part of you was scared to touch it again because of its contents and the other part was bullying you to just rip it open and get this over with. This was your idea after all. This was your last resort. This was the package that would, hopefully, help you find the answers you were so desperately looking for.
What exactly were you trying to solve?
Six months prior, you’d managed to save up enough money to move out of your parents’ home, away from a superficial city and into a small, quiet town. Albeit a trailer wasn’t your first option, it was something you could call your own. It was the most adult thing you’ve done in your life so far. Initially, you were excited because you would be able to decorate it the way you wanted for every holiday, host small gatherings with friends and maybe even bring someone home. However, you couldn’t exactly do most of that, not with all the strange things that have been happening and while you attempted to brush them off as mere coincidences, they were becoming almost too outstanding to ignore any longer.
First, it was the air conditioning unit acting wonky. You kept the place at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies or wrapped up in blankets. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there, the technicians couldn’t find a single problem with the system and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine.
Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.
The most bizarre thing though, was things disappearing and reappearing. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from where you left it and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never had to search too far because there they were. Maybe it was all in your head?
The eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would trail behind when you felt that breeze pass over. You couldn’t pinpoint what it exactly smelled like, a composition of something woody with amber undertones that suggested a sense of strength and warmth from its presence. One thing was for sure, it wasn’t any like your fragrances nor was it from the only person that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost a calming one to you.
You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. You came to the conclusion you were living with a ghost. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. If anything, it helped you out more than bothered you. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or move out, but you’d worked too hard to get here and you weren’t going to let whatever entity run you out of your new home. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.
Literally.
Pulling the Ouija board out from the box, you place it on the table and it seems to have a hold on you. How do you prepare yourself to summon a ghost? You don’t know how long you’d been staring but it was only when the sudden knock on your door does the spell break.
You get up and make the short distance to the front door and you’re briefly greeted by your close friend Steve. Your relationship with him was close to the point where you’re not even bothered that he just makes his way inside as if he lived here with you. He’s so busy rambling about something, probably about his latest shift at the video store he worked at, that he didn’t notice how uncharacteristically quiet you were being.
“Whoa!” He exclaims, stopping in his tracks once he sees the Ouija board laid out. Its presence was enough to effectively cut his story short. “What are you doing with that?” He asks, pointing at the object and taking a few steps away from it.
You roll your eyes, sitting back down and reaching into the box to pull out the remaining piece, the planchette.
“What does it look like I’m going to do with it?” You say, staring up at him blankly.
“Shit,” he starts, running his hands through his thick hair, “okay, uh, I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were this spooky,” he says, his eyes bugging out in disbelief.
He stands in place as if the items in front of you were cursed, but seeing that you hadn’t actually begun anything yet, there’s a bit of relief. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural. It was just wild that it was happening to you.
“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Steve warns as he cautiously makes his way back closer.
“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking the now empty box aside.
“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!”
Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.
“I need to find answers, Steve!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his, if not, louder. Your once calm demeanor switching to an intense one, cutting the tension of what you were going to partake in had brought about. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own place.”
Oh yeah, he knew. Steve was the only friend you could confine in and the one person you could share your stories about your home and the experiences in it.
“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove this theory. He could see the inner turmoil you were facing and the vulnerability that cracked through your exterior after your outburst.
“I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.” If the frustration wasn’t visible in your features, it definitely was in your voice.
“Look,” Steve says, voice now careful, ”why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” You knew this offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Hawkins and were looking for your own place, Steve had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent…and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him.
Steve was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and even though you'd both crossed so many lines already, a part of you feared crossing anymore would jeopardize it. Worse, what if whatever it turned out to be would just fail miserably in the end. Then where would that leave you both? He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Steve knew you simply weren’t ready and he was willing to wait.
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face, the kind that made you feel guilty, and went back to fidgeting with the planchette in your hands. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety. He’d always been protective of you and hated seeing you upset.
The nights he had spent in your trailer nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening to you. Steve wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out today like this. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.
The crack of thunder in the sky, slightly rattling the trailer, indicated a storm was coming and you took that as an excuse to convince Steve to leave for the night. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Steve, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page.
“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up , walking over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Steve wasn’t mad. He knew you weren’t going to change your mind this time, but he could be patient. He was always very patient with you.
He reluctantly nods, defeated, before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but it mostly muffled against his biceps. You bask in the warmth of his embrace for a few lingering seconds, inhaling his fresh, clean scent, one that was a complete contrast to the one you were used to smelling inside your trailer, before pulling away and playfully shoving him out the door.
As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jump, head snapping at a sudden crashing sound from the kitchen area. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you, on your last birthday from Steve, shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor. The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house just didn’t like Steve… You shook your head at that last silly thought and sighed preparing to clean up the mess.
The gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the once clear sky and with the sounds of the fast raindrops against the windows and pavement, the lag in thunder chasing the flashes of lightning, you didn’t waste time on the mission.
What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with something so what could’ve been scarier than that. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would they be like Casper?
Would this even work? The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended. You’d seen The Exorcist and not to mention this kind of activity was very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now…
The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.
You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? There wasn’t exactly a guide on etiquette for communicating with the dead. You did your fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.
You take a deep breath in and out then begin to summon your supposed roommate.
Eddie felt bad.
He felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t. He remembered when you were given that mug. He saw the way your face lit up after reading the stupid text on it that only you and the person who gifted it to you understood the meaning behind it.
He didn’t like Steve and he certainly didn’t like how Steve made you feel. Steve made you feel all sorts of things and Eddie knew that, which explained why Steve never experienced anything unusual in the house because Eddie didn’t like seeing you with him. He chose to not be present in Steve’s presence. Most of his kind would make it a point to make it known they hated them, but Eddie didn’t want to spook you.
He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young, barely in his 20s before he left an ongoing cold case behind, providing no closure for his friends and his uncle.
But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. He’d grown so attached it outraged him to see any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his home.
Eddie wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of years. He tried his best to communicate with his uncle before he finally managed to move into a better place. He was proud of Wayne for working hard to get a real house for himself. He took assurance that he was able to live more comfortably now. He should’ve known his own flesh and blood wasn’t bothered or spooked out by his attempts to get his attention, so when he left, Eddie was alone for nearly three years. No one was exactly in a rush to move into a trailer, his trailer, until you came into the picture. That day you walked in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well…ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.
He tried to subtly help you with everyday things. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.
He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Steve. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Steve was already gone.
Eddie followed you back into the living room, watched as you lit the candles scattered around and dimming the lights. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. You deserved a nice night in. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently. He was already trying to guess what kind of movie you were going to turn on but when he saw what was laid out in front of you as you sat back on your couch, his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.
“Oh no,” he says as he stares at the Ouija board on the table. Eddie starts pacing in front of you, his hands bunching up his hair in a panic state. Anyone that had ever set foot in this trailer to scope it out knew this place gave off a spooky vibe. This was a tough trailer to sell because not only was it unsettling but so was the story behind it, which it was unbeknownst to you why it was so affordable. You weren’t stupid and you knew there was something or someone lurking, so this was almost bound to happen.
“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette. You’d close your eyes to mask your fear so that should anything bad happen you wouldn’t have had to stare death right in the face.
“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you were willingly reaching out to him. He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone in years, so now given an opportunity to do so gave him a sense of elation.
“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Eddie argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.
He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately and effortlessly move your hands to slide the planchette over the word ‘YES’.
Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you received an answer. Now that was not your imagination. This wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you either. You’re frozen, but look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, however you don’t see anything.
At least that’s what you think. On the contrary, you’re staring right at Eddie or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock for two reasons.
First, he was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. Secondly, he was in awe. He knew he was attracted to you, but even though you couldn’t see him, he could see you clearly and you were so beautiful to him.
He’s scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time it excites him that he’s successfully communicating with you.
You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you thinking that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? If you were to get hurt or anything, you’d deal with Steve later. You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.
“What are you?” You ask next.
“What am I?” Eddie repeats the question, “I’m dead, sweetheart.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette still. The corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, had him comparing it to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff…either way he felt very blessed to pull such a thing as a small smile out of you.
“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Eddie said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a real conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six months.
A particular flash of lightning followed by a clamorous thunder startles you, breaking you away from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the night.
When your heartbeat finally returned to its steady rate, you got up to turn on the lights. You made sure you blew all the candles out and doors were locked before turning in. As you walked the path to his old bedroom, Eddie watched you look back to the living room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew who it was directed towards - it was meant for him.
The days that followed, you were growing more and more curious. In your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.
You went from door to door of the trailer park doing your own investigation on who used to live in your trailer. You got mixed reviews from the neighbors, but you believed you got the gist of it down.
The trailer originally belonged to a man named Wayne Munson, who took in his nephew becoming his sole legal guardian. You dug deep at the local library, sifting through old Hawkins newspaper archives, to find out that his nephew had commonly gone by the nickname ‘Eddie’ and he wasn’t too far away in age from you. He went to the same high school as Steve, where he struggled in graduating, had a reputation of being a delinquent and someone who participated in satanic practices. The worst of his offense was being linked to the murder of a beloved teenage girl, Chrissy Cunningham.
The accompanying images of the girl and boy in the newspaper clippings, you assumed to be Chrissy and Eddie. She was undeniably pretty and he was…cute. The tips of your ears burned and turned red as you caught yourself staring a little too long at his picture.
Why’d that make you feel weird? You’re thinking things about someone you’d never met. You didn’t know anything else about him and what you had learned, it didn’t sound good either. That couldn’t have been the same Eddie in your trailer, right?
To your surprise, Chrissy had brutally died in your very own living room. Were you living with her? Something didn’t make sense though. What was her unfinished business? All the things you picked up on from the TV or movies, was that most spirits that wandered had some sort of “unfinished business” that prevented them from moving on. Right?
The news seemed adamant that it was Eddie who killed her, but it was her own boyfriend, some star athlete, Jason Carver, who had been found guilty of her murder. Eddie had been acquitted but the twists and turns never stopped as you read he himself had been found dead inside the trailer a few weeks later. The puzzling thing was the autopsy proved it wasn’t by suicide. He didn’t do this to himself. The saddest thing, aside from the loss of two young lives, was his uncle being the one to discover his nephew lifeless in their home. No one was ever charged for his murder and it didn’t look like there was a rush to locate the killer, which angered you as you continued reading. The real killer was possibly still out there free to live the rest of their life.
You’re so engrossed with your findings you barely paid any attention to Steve when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls, which seemed uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.
Steve was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.
“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Steve shouts, fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were hyped about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place.
He looked around the small space seeing your notes scattered throughout the coffee table, some spilled on the carpet. There were so many he couldn’t see the Ouija board still laid out. It was just buried underneath.
“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him. “Did you know? Did you know Eddie? Or what happened to him? Did you know that he and someone else died right where we’re standing?” This was the first time you asked him about the person Eddie was, not the ghost. You wondered why he didn't say anything? He’d lived in Hawkins his whole life. Surely he’d had to have heard about this. It’s a small town, people talked.
“I barely knew him,” Steve sighs, guilty but admits, “he wasn’t exactly popular or well liked by most because of how different he was.” You watch as he brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, “but even I didn’t think he was capable of doing that stuff to Chrissy.” He was trying to erase the crime scene the media had released to the public from his mind. “I swear I didn’t know this was his trailer though. Like I said, I barely knew the guy.” You can hear the sincerity in his response and nodded. Had Steve known, he’d most likely had pushed harder for you to move in with him.
“What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace…and so will he,” you start to persist.
“You’re not going to be able to convince Hawkins that Eddie Munson didn’t kill someone,” he says bluntly. “You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Steve reminds you. “I’m just worried about you,” he brings his hands to your arms in an attempt to comfort you.
“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Eddie.
You were relieved that the conversation with Steve didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.
So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to the dead?
Take two.
You sat perched, trying to hype yourself up to communicate once more. Eddie, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that they’re here.
“Chrissy?” You ask, your fingers firmly on the planchette. You hadn’t figured out which one was actually still here or if both were.
Your hands move over to the answer, ‘NO’.
Shit. Eddie thought to himself when you said Chrissy's name. How much did you know about Chrissy? If you read anything about that night in the papers then it surely wasn’t good. What did you think of him now? You probably thought he was the devil. He thought you were going to end this, cut ties with him, cleanse the house or even move out after discovering it’s been him this whole time. The realization that you were living with a monster.
“Who are you?” The last revelation had to be obvious, but you needed confirmation. Eddie had nothing to lose, physically, but if this was the last time he’d get to communicate with you, he’d take every second until you stop. Your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘E-D-D-I-E’.
“Eddie,” you whisper. Boy, did Eddie like the sound of his name coming from your lips.
“Is anyone else with you?” The answer points to ‘NO’. He was alone.
“How did you…die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.
The letters ‘M-U-R-D-E-R-E-D’ give you your next answer. It was indeed him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.
“Did you knock down my mug?”
Eddie rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.
“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.
‘S-O-R-R-Y’.
The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.
“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Steve another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.
Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Eddie and you weren’t sure of what to ask next, but you didn't want to stop talking to him.
Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.
Eddie watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your worries and pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.
With your hands back on the board, you ask, “are you still here?” Eddie responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.
“Can you show yourself to me?” There is the ultimate question and Eddie can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.
“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown, defeated at his response.
Eddie wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. He was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to those nearby, he was never successful.
You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.
There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine. You flinch and your hand rises quickly to warm the spot. What was that? You didn't feel that when using the Ouija board. Was that Eddie?
Eddie almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. All he did was caress your face and it was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.
You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.
It sucked for Eddie because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.
“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again to the open area, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.
However, Eddie still needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’ on its own. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.
The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.
Feel? You definitely felt a presence and a touch, but now it was confirmed. He was trying to communicate through touch.
“Yes, I felt you!” you let Eddie know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.
“Touch me,” you requested.
Eddie is stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling the soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it’ll stop your wandering eyes.
You are still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke, his comforting scent invading your senses. It was him. It had been him this whole time and he’s definitely here in front of you.
“More,” you say barely above a whisper, not paying mind to the coldness.
Fuck. Eddie inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.
He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?
“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Eddie doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips back on yours, but with added pressure, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.
Eddie’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.
When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, disregarding the temperature, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.
Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.
Eddie or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Eddie, you were suddenly hot all over.
Flustered, you pulled down your shorts on the way to your bed, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.
Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you need them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Eddie got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.
No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit. Using your slick, you begin to rub slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, resurfacing now coated by your own wetness as you use it to an advantage in invigorating your bundle of nerves.
Eyes closed, you start to think about Eddie. How his skin would feel against yours. How you’d tangle your fingers in his wild hair. How his hands would feel on your sensitive parts. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Steve or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him to get you through the finish line.
The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.
And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you…The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy.
A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then you hiss at the abrupt familiar cold sensation that runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Eddie was here. You pick your head up, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.
It shoots a wild pang through Eddie's chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed a few significant things in his life already. He missed graduating high school. He missed a chance to get a better car. He missed a chance to sell out venues. He missed playing music. He missed his uncle. He missed his friends. He missed Hellfire. He missed out on someone like you. He missed a chance to develop a deep connection with someone. Life was so cruel.
Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Eddie. The feeling had you wishing he had lived to one day cross paths with you. Would he have still been in Hawkins when you moved here? Would you be neighbors, friends or more? Would it have been him and not Steve? All the could've and would’ve scenarios sprouting in your head. You got too attached learning about him. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.
Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Eddie’s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt minor stings at how cold his touches were in the beginning, for the first time, Eddie felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.
His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature felt good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body.
Cool air brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Eddie never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.
“Eddie,” his name slips past your lips breathlessly when he makes contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his mouth back to ran a long, flat strip over your folds, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.
The cold, with each bit of contact from Eddie, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Eddie uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking deeper into your pillows.
There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Eddie, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack, pulling your shirt over your head to grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.
Eddie’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves, squirming from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn’t require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he finally dips his tongue inside your wet hole and back out, before capturing your clit between his lips, sucking on it. The sweet suction sensation on your clit as his lips enclose around it.
“I-I need...fuck,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Eddie’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down hard on your bottom lip, you could taste a hint of copper already, trying your hardest to not let out a crazed scream.
Eddie doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they and his tongue take turns in you. The addition of his thick fingers start taking you closer to your impending orgasm. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the filthy things he would say or do.
He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. He could feel your walls closing in tight around his digits, your wetness pooling around them and spilling, he almost loses control of your withering body. When you reach your peak, your mouth and eyes snap open, a choked gasp transitioning into a straggling loud moan, pupils blown, the sweat beads trickling down, and your back arching up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed when your orgasm rocks through you before you come back down releasing choppy breaths from its intensity.
Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Eddie one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. His fingers slowly slipping out and the puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Eddie is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.
For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d always hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth or wherever he was, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough.
Eddie would die happy.
A/N: Reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated. 🥹 Do we want a part 2? Let me know! Thank you for reading! 🫶🏻
I'm almost ready to bring this one back! I've been writing part 2 this whole week and it's this close to being done. Ohhhh. I'm ready to put this one to rest. If anyone is still interested...
double reblogging myself shamelessly bc i just scheduled part 2 to come out in a few minutes. terrified bc i haven't written anything in years. but it is what it is. this could just run me out of writing ever again, lol. ok. g'night. i hope someone out there enjoys it.
Pairing: Ghost!Eddie Munson AU x Female Reader; hint of Steve Harrington x Female Reader
Summary: You summon a really friendly ghost. 👻
Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual vibes all around, masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral? [female receiving]) and language. 🚫 Minors DO NOT interact. Dabbling into the occult (use of a Ouija board).
Disclaimer: I’m a spooky bitch, but I would NEVER mess with an Ouija board. This is an AU. The upside down and the events that happen in the series Stranger Things (2016) aren’t entirely canon here.
Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers
A/N: This is a re-imagine of my Ghost!Bucky Barnes AU from years ago, but I wanted to convert it to fit with our dear boy Eddie. It’s only altered to fit a different narrative, but the smut is still closely the same. The inspiration came from an erotic audio on Reddit, so I owe it to that. There was a part two in the works, so if this goes well, I’ll continue writing it for this AU. Enjoy!
You sat there on your small couch of the trailer you had just moved into about six months ago, staring at the unopened brown rectangular box placed on your coffee table, contemplating on unboxing it. A part of you was scared to touch it again because of its contents and the other part was bullying you to just rip it open and get this over with. This was your idea after all. This was your last resort. This was the package that would, hopefully, help you find the answers you were so desperately looking for.
What exactly were you trying to solve?
Six months prior, you’d managed to save up enough money to move out of your parents’ home, away from a superficial city and into a small, quiet town. Albeit a trailer wasn’t your first option, it was something you could call your own. It was the most adult thing you’ve done in your life so far. Initially, you were excited because you would be able to decorate it the way you wanted for every holiday, host small gatherings with friends and maybe even bring someone home. However, you couldn’t exactly do most of that, not with all the strange things that have been happening and while you attempted to brush them off as mere coincidences, they were becoming almost too outstanding to ignore any longer.
First, it was the air conditioning unit acting wonky. You kept the place at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies or wrapped up in blankets. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there, the technicians couldn’t find a single problem with the system and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine.
Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.
The most bizarre thing though, was things disappearing and reappearing. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from where you left it and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never had to search too far because there they were. Maybe it was all in your head?
The eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would trail behind when you felt that breeze pass over. You couldn’t pinpoint what it exactly smelled like, a composition of something woody with amber undertones that suggested a sense of strength and warmth from its presence. One thing was for sure, it wasn’t any like your fragrances nor was it from the only person that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost a calming one to you.
You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. You came to the conclusion you were living with a ghost. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. If anything, it helped you out more than bothered you. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or move out, but you’d worked too hard to get here and you weren’t going to let whatever entity run you out of your new home. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.
Literally.
Pulling the Ouija board out from the box, you place it on the table and it seems to have a hold on you. How do you prepare yourself to summon a ghost? You don’t know how long you’d been staring but it was only when the sudden knock on your door does the spell break.
You get up and make the short distance to the front door and you’re briefly greeted by your close friend Steve. Your relationship with him was close to the point where you’re not even bothered that he just makes his way inside as if he lived here with you. He’s so busy rambling about something, probably about his latest shift at the video store he worked at, that he didn’t notice how uncharacteristically quiet you were being.
“Whoa!” He exclaims, stopping in his tracks once he sees the Ouija board laid out. Its presence was enough to effectively cut his story short. “What are you doing with that?” He asks, pointing at the object and taking a few steps away from it.
You roll your eyes, sitting back down and reaching into the box to pull out the remaining piece, the planchette.
“What does it look like I’m going to do with it?” You say, staring up at him blankly.
“Shit,” he starts, running his hands through his thick hair, “okay, uh, I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were this spooky,” he says, his eyes bugging out in disbelief.
He stands in place as if the items in front of you were cursed, but seeing that you hadn’t actually begun anything yet, there’s a bit of relief. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural. It was just wild that it was happening to you.
“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Steve warns as he cautiously makes his way back closer.
“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking the now empty box aside.
“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!”
Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.
“I need to find answers, Steve!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his, if not, louder. Your once calm demeanor switching to an intense one, cutting the tension of what you were going to partake in had brought about. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own place.”
Oh yeah, he knew. Steve was the only friend you could confine in and the one person you could share your stories about your home and the experiences in it.
“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove this theory. He could see the inner turmoil you were facing and the vulnerability that cracked through your exterior after your outburst.
“I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.” If the frustration wasn’t visible in your features, it definitely was in your voice.
“Look,” Steve says, voice now careful, ”why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” You knew this offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Hawkins and were looking for your own place, Steve had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent…and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him.
Steve was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and even though you'd both crossed so many lines already, a part of you feared crossing anymore would jeopardize it. Worse, what if whatever it turned out to be would just fail miserably in the end. Then where would that leave you both? He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Steve knew you simply weren’t ready and he was willing to wait.
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face, the kind that made you feel guilty, and went back to fidgeting with the planchette in your hands. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety. He’d always been protective of you and hated seeing you upset.
The nights he had spent in your trailer nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening to you. Steve wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out today like this. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.
The crack of thunder in the sky, slightly rattling the trailer, indicated a storm was coming and you took that as an excuse to convince Steve to leave for the night. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Steve, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page.
“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up , walking over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Steve wasn’t mad. He knew you weren’t going to change your mind this time, but he could be patient. He was always very patient with you.
He reluctantly nods, defeated, before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but it mostly muffled against his biceps. You bask in the warmth of his embrace for a few lingering seconds, inhaling his fresh, clean scent, one that was a complete contrast to the one you were used to smelling inside your trailer, before pulling away and playfully shoving him out the door.
As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jump, head snapping at a sudden crashing sound from the kitchen area. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you, on your last birthday from Steve, shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor. The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house just didn’t like Steve… You shook your head at that last silly thought and sighed preparing to clean up the mess.
The gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the once clear sky and with the sounds of the fast raindrops against the windows and pavement, the lag in thunder chasing the flashes of lightning, you didn’t waste time on the mission.
What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with something so what could’ve been scarier than that. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would they be like Casper?
Would this even work? The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended. You’d seen The Exorcist and not to mention this kind of activity was very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now…
The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.
You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? There wasn’t exactly a guide on etiquette for communicating with the dead. You did your fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.
You take a deep breath in and out then begin to summon your supposed roommate.
Eddie felt bad.
He felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t. He remembered when you were given that mug. He saw the way your face lit up after reading the stupid text on it that only you and the person who gifted it to you understood the meaning behind it.
He didn’t like Steve and he certainly didn’t like how Steve made you feel. Steve made you feel all sorts of things and Eddie knew that, which explained why Steve never experienced anything unusual in the house because Eddie didn’t like seeing you with him. He chose to not be present in Steve’s presence. Most of his kind would make it a point to make it known they hated them, but Eddie didn’t want to spook you.
He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young, barely in his 20s before he left an ongoing cold case behind, providing no closure for his friends and his uncle.
But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. He’d grown so attached it outraged him to see any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his home.
Eddie wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of years. He tried his best to communicate with his uncle before he finally managed to move into a better place. He was proud of Wayne for working hard to get a real house for himself. He took assurance that he was able to live more comfortably now. He should’ve known his own flesh and blood wasn’t bothered or spooked out by his attempts to get his attention, so when he left, Eddie was alone for nearly three years. No one was exactly in a rush to move into a trailer, his trailer, until you came into the picture. That day you walked in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well…ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.
He tried to subtly help you with everyday things. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.
He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Steve. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Steve was already gone.
Eddie followed you back into the living room, watched as you lit the candles scattered around and dimming the lights. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. You deserved a nice night in. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently. He was already trying to guess what kind of movie you were going to turn on but when he saw what was laid out in front of you as you sat back on your couch, his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.
“Oh no,” he says as he stares at the Ouija board on the table. Eddie starts pacing in front of you, his hands bunching up his hair in a panic state. Anyone that had ever set foot in this trailer to scope it out knew this place gave off a spooky vibe. This was a tough trailer to sell because not only was it unsettling but so was the story behind it, which it was unbeknownst to you why it was so affordable. You weren’t stupid and you knew there was something or someone lurking, so this was almost bound to happen.
“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette. You’d close your eyes to mask your fear so that should anything bad happen you wouldn’t have had to stare death right in the face.
“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you were willingly reaching out to him. He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone in years, so now given an opportunity to do so gave him a sense of elation.
“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Eddie argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.
He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately and effortlessly move your hands to slide the planchette over the word ‘YES’.
Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you received an answer. Now that was not your imagination. This wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you either. You’re frozen, but look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, however you don’t see anything.
At least that’s what you think. On the contrary, you’re staring right at Eddie or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock for two reasons.
First, he was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. Secondly, he was in awe. He knew he was attracted to you, but even though you couldn’t see him, he could see you clearly and you were so beautiful to him.
He’s scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time it excites him that he’s successfully communicating with you.
You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you thinking that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? If you were to get hurt or anything, you’d deal with Steve later. You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.
“What are you?” You ask next.
“What am I?” Eddie repeats the question, “I’m dead, sweetheart.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette still. The corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, had him comparing it to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff…either way he felt very blessed to pull such a thing as a small smile out of you.
“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Eddie said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a real conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six months.
A particular flash of lightning followed by a clamorous thunder startles you, breaking you away from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the night.
When your heartbeat finally returned to its steady rate, you got up to turn on the lights. You made sure you blew all the candles out and doors were locked before turning in. As you walked the path to his old bedroom, Eddie watched you look back to the living room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew who it was directed towards - it was meant for him.
The days that followed, you were growing more and more curious. In your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.
You went from door to door of the trailer park doing your own investigation on who used to live in your trailer. You got mixed reviews from the neighbors, but you believed you got the gist of it down.
The trailer originally belonged to a man named Wayne Munson, who took in his nephew becoming his sole legal guardian. You dug deep at the local library, sifting through old Hawkins newspaper archives, to find out that his nephew had commonly gone by the nickname ‘Eddie’ and he wasn’t too far away in age from you. He went to the same high school as Steve, where he struggled in graduating, had a reputation of being a delinquent and someone who participated in satanic practices. The worst of his offense was being linked to the murder of a beloved teenage girl, Chrissy Cunningham.
The accompanying images of the girl and boy in the newspaper clippings, you assumed to be Chrissy and Eddie. She was undeniably pretty and he was…cute. The tips of your ears burned and turned red as you caught yourself staring a little too long at his picture.
Why’d that make you feel weird? You’re thinking things about someone you’d never met. You didn’t know anything else about him and what you had learned, it didn’t sound good either. That couldn’t have been the same Eddie in your trailer, right?
To your surprise, Chrissy had brutally died in your very own living room. Were you living with her? Something didn’t make sense though. What was her unfinished business? All the things you picked up on from the TV or movies, was that most spirits that wandered had some sort of “unfinished business” that prevented them from moving on. Right?
The news seemed adamant that it was Eddie who killed her, but it was her own boyfriend, some star athlete, Jason Carver, who had been found guilty of her murder. Eddie had been acquitted but the twists and turns never stopped as you read he himself had been found dead inside the trailer a few weeks later. The puzzling thing was the autopsy proved it wasn’t by suicide. He didn’t do this to himself. The saddest thing, aside from the loss of two young lives, was his uncle being the one to discover his nephew lifeless in their home. No one was ever charged for his murder and it didn’t look like there was a rush to locate the killer, which angered you as you continued reading. The real killer was possibly still out there free to live the rest of their life.
You’re so engrossed with your findings you barely paid any attention to Steve when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls, which seemed uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.
Steve was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.
“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Steve shouts, fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were hyped about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place.
He looked around the small space seeing your notes scattered throughout the coffee table, some spilled on the carpet. There were so many he couldn’t see the Ouija board still laid out. It was just buried underneath.
“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him. “Did you know? Did you know Eddie? Or what happened to him? Did you know that he and someone else died right where we’re standing?” This was the first time you asked him about the person Eddie was, not the ghost. You wondered why he didn't say anything? He’d lived in Hawkins his whole life. Surely he’d had to have heard about this. It’s a small town, people talked.
“I barely knew him,” Steve sighs, guilty but admits, “he wasn’t exactly popular or well liked by most because of how different he was.” You watch as he brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, “but even I didn’t think he was capable of doing that stuff to Chrissy.” He was trying to erase the crime scene the media had released to the public from his mind. “I swear I didn’t know this was his trailer though. Like I said, I barely knew the guy.” You can hear the sincerity in his response and nodded. Had Steve known, he’d most likely had pushed harder for you to move in with him.
“What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace…and so will he,” you start to persist.
“You’re not going to be able to convince Hawkins that Eddie Munson didn’t kill someone,” he says bluntly. “You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Steve reminds you. “I’m just worried about you,” he brings his hands to your arms in an attempt to comfort you.
“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Eddie.
You were relieved that the conversation with Steve didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.
So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to the dead?
Take two.
You sat perched, trying to hype yourself up to communicate once more. Eddie, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that they’re here.
“Chrissy?” You ask, your fingers firmly on the planchette. You hadn’t figured out which one was actually still here or if both were.
Your hands move over to the answer, ‘NO’.
Shit. Eddie thought to himself when you said Chrissy's name. How much did you know about Chrissy? If you read anything about that night in the papers then it surely wasn’t good. What did you think of him now? You probably thought he was the devil. He thought you were going to end this, cut ties with him, cleanse the house or even move out after discovering it’s been him this whole time. The realization that you were living with a monster.
“Who are you?” The last revelation had to be obvious, but you needed confirmation. Eddie had nothing to lose, physically, but if this was the last time he’d get to communicate with you, he’d take every second until you stop. Your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘E-D-D-I-E’.
“Eddie,” you whisper. Boy, did Eddie like the sound of his name coming from your lips.
“Is anyone else with you?” The answer points to ‘NO’. He was alone.
“How did you…die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.
The letters ‘M-U-R-D-E-R-E-D’ give you your next answer. It was indeed him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.
“Did you knock down my mug?”
Eddie rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.
“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.
‘S-O-R-R-Y’.
The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.
“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Steve another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.
Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Eddie and you weren’t sure of what to ask next, but you didn't want to stop talking to him.
Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.
Eddie watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your worries and pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.
With your hands back on the board, you ask, “are you still here?” Eddie responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.
“Can you show yourself to me?” There is the ultimate question and Eddie can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.
“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown, defeated at his response.
Eddie wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. He was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to those nearby, he was never successful.
You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.
There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine. You flinch and your hand rises quickly to warm the spot. What was that? You didn't feel that when using the Ouija board. Was that Eddie?
Eddie almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. All he did was caress your face and it was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.
You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.
It sucked for Eddie because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.
“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again to the open area, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.
However, Eddie still needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’ on its own. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.
The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.
Feel? You definitely felt a presence and a touch, but now it was confirmed. He was trying to communicate through touch.
“Yes, I felt you!” you let Eddie know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.
“Touch me,” you requested.
Eddie is stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling the soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it’ll stop your wandering eyes.
You are still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke, his comforting scent invading your senses. It was him. It had been him this whole time and he’s definitely here in front of you.
“More,” you say barely above a whisper, not paying mind to the coldness.
Fuck. Eddie inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.
He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?
“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Eddie doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips back on yours, but with added pressure, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.
Eddie’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.
When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, disregarding the temperature, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.
Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.
Eddie or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Eddie, you were suddenly hot all over.
Flustered, you pulled down your shorts on the way to your bed, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.
Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you need them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Eddie got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.
No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit. Using your slick, you begin to rub slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, resurfacing now coated by your own wetness as you use it to an advantage in invigorating your bundle of nerves.
Eyes closed, you start to think about Eddie. How his skin would feel against yours. How you’d tangle your fingers in his wild hair. How his hands would feel on your sensitive parts. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Steve or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him to get you through the finish line.
The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.
And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you…The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy.
A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then you hiss at the abrupt familiar cold sensation that runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Eddie was here. You pick your head up, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.
It shoots a wild pang through Eddie's chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed a few significant things in his life already. He missed graduating high school. He missed a chance to get a better car. He missed a chance to sell out venues. He missed playing music. He missed his uncle. He missed his friends. He missed Hellfire. He missed out on someone like you. He missed a chance to develop a deep connection with someone. Life was so cruel.
Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Eddie. The feeling had you wishing he had lived to one day cross paths with you. Would he have still been in Hawkins when you moved here? Would you be neighbors, friends or more? Would it have been him and not Steve? All the could've and would’ve scenarios sprouting in your head. You got too attached learning about him. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.
Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Eddie’s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt minor stings at how cold his touches were in the beginning, for the first time, Eddie felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.
His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature felt good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body.
Cool air brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Eddie never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.
“Eddie,” his name slips past your lips breathlessly when he makes contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his mouth back to ran a long, flat strip over your folds, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.
The cold, with each bit of contact from Eddie, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Eddie uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking deeper into your pillows.
There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Eddie, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack, pulling your shirt over your head to grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.
Eddie’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves, squirming from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn’t require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he finally dips his tongue inside your wet hole and back out, before capturing your clit between his lips, sucking on it. The sweet suction sensation on your clit as his lips enclose around it.
“I-I need...fuck,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Eddie’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down hard on your bottom lip, you could taste a hint of copper already, trying your hardest to not let out a crazed scream.
Eddie doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they and his tongue take turns in you. The addition of his thick fingers start taking you closer to your impending orgasm. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the filthy things he would say or do.
He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. He could feel your walls closing in tight around his digits, your wetness pooling around them and spilling, he almost loses control of your withering body. When you reach your peak, your mouth and eyes snap open, a choked gasp transitioning into a straggling loud moan, pupils blown, the sweat beads trickling down, and your back arching up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed when your orgasm rocks through you before you come back down releasing choppy breaths from its intensity.
Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Eddie one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. His fingers slowly slipping out and the puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Eddie is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.
For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d always hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth or wherever he was, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough.
Eddie would die happy.
A/N: Reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated. 🥹 Do we want a part 2? Let me know! Thank you for reading! 🫶🏻
I'm almost ready to bring this one back! I've been writing part 2 this whole week and it's this close to being done. Ohhhh. I'm ready to put this one to rest. If anyone is still interested...
