Chronic Expat 20’s

A fond, appreciative hum left her throat. Eddie heard the sound and paused mid-motion, glancing over his shoulder with a grin already tugging at his lips.

“Mmm?” he repeated, one eyebrow lifting. “Someone’s up early.” His voice was low, still rough with sleep but already carrying that familiar teasing tone as he turned toward her, the shirt he’d grabbed left hanging loosely over his shoulder instead of being pulled on.

“Mhm,” her eyes closed briefly as she nodded once.

Eddie chuckled softly before tossing the shirt onto the bed beside her. A second later, he crawled onto the mattress, his weight dipping it beneath him as he hovered over her, bracing himself on his forearms. The warmth of his freshly showered skin and the clean scent of his cologne wrapped around her instantly, caging her comfortably against the bed. His beard brushed across her skin as he nuzzled into the curve of her neck.

“Good morning,” she hummed with a smile, slipping her arms out from beneath him so she could loosely wrap them around his neck.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled back, the word muffled against her skin.

Her fingers moved absentmindedly through his hair, still slightly damp from the shower he’d taken after waking up, while he slowly pressed further into her. His face stayed tucked into her neck as more of his weight settled over her, drawing a laugh from her the more dramatic he became. His arms slipped beneath her, trapped between her body and the mattress just so he could hold her tighter. He was heavy, all warm muscle and weight, but she loved the way he always seemed to melt against her like this.

They stayed like that for another couple of minutes before Eddie finally lifted his head, his face hovering only inches from hers when she met his eyes. He leaned down first, placing a lingering kiss to her cheek before beginning to pull himself away. But before he could fully lift himself from the bed, her hand reached up, fingers gently catching the silver chain dangling from his neck.

Eddie froze mid-retreat, blinking down at her with amusement flickering in his eyes. A slow, knowing smirk crossed his face — one that only deepened when she tugged lightly on the chain still clasped in her fingers.

“Oh?” he questioned. “You wanna play before work?”

“I absolutely do,” she mumbled softly, eyes wandering over his face. “Unless you have to get going...”

Eddie let out a breathy laugh, his pretty brown eyes slightly hooded as he looked down at her. His nostrils flared faintly before he settled his weight back over her again. 

“Baby, who’s gonna write me up for being late? Me?” he said with a small grin, dragging his fingers through her sleep-mussed hair. She smiled at his joke as his hand moved down to gently grasp her wrist still holding his chain, guiding it away before pressing her hand firmly into the mattress beside her head.

Her expression softened as she bit down on her lip, her free hand slipping between them to push the blankets aside in a messy heap near the edge of the bed. Warmth bloomed through her cheeks, anticipation curling low in her stomach as Eddie dipped his head and kissed her softly, unhurried and lingering enough to make her melt beneath him. Her hand drifted upward, fingertips gliding over the broad slope of his shoulder before settling around his bicep. She could feel the subtle flex of muscle beneath his skin as he shifted over her, solid and heavy in a way that always made her feel completely surrounded by him.

The belt buckle clicked as Eddie freed it one-handed, his fingers working without hurry — a sharp contrast to the way his mouth moved against her neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin in gentle, teasing bites. He hummed deep in his throat at the way her breath caught, her fingers tightening against his arm as he tugged his belt free from the loops and let it drop carelessly to the floor with a muted thud.

“You just look so good getting ready for work,” she whispered near his ear, slowly dragging her knee along his side.

Eddie’s beard tickled her skin as he laughed softly against her neck, taking her hand and guiding it smoothly to the waistband of his pants. “Undo these for me, pretty girl.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, unable to hide the subtle excitement in her voice as her fingers moved to undo the button of his pants. The rasp of Eddie’s zipper filled the room as he helped her guide it down, his breath warm against her lips when he leaned in to claim hers again. She opened her mouth to him as her hands cradled his face, breathing deeply through her nose. The kiss deepened naturally, full of the same passion he always gave her, steady enough that she could savor every second of it.

Eddie shifted his weight onto his left elbow, while his right hand worked his pants open just enough to free himself. His fingers trailed down her thigh, lifting her leg just enough to drape it over his hip as he settled himself between hers. She could feel him pressing against her, slow and teasing at first, until a quiet hum came from her throat as she tilted her hips upward to meet him. Eddie groaned softly against her mouth, fingers tightening around her thigh as he pushed forward, slipping inside with one smooth roll of his hips. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling back slightly from the kiss. His forehead pressed against hers as he buried himself fully into her. “Morning sex is so fuckin’ good.”

His hips rocked into hers at first, each movement lazy and thorough, dragging soft gasps from her lips while his fingers traced idle patterns along the skin of her thigh.

He kissed her again, swallowing her quiet moan as he pushed himself deeper, setting a steady rhythm that quickly had her arching into him, chasing every careful thrust. Eddie laughed low in his throat at the reaction, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured against her skin, biting lightly at her pulse point. Her fingers curled into his hair, nails barely scratching against his scalp as he shifted his weight, adjusting himself onto his forearms for better leverage. The new angle sent him deeper, earning a loud moan from her lips as her hips moved to meet his thrusts. Eddie groaned, his breath hot near her ear as he quickened his pace slightly, just enough to draw more of those pretty sounds from her throat.

“Eddie,” she mewled, fingers tightening in his hair as he lowered his head to leave open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. His name spilled from her lips again, quieter this time, barely more than a whisper as his hand slipped under her shirt, fingers teasing just beneath the curve of her breast.

Eddie hummed against her skin, his hips thrusting deep and slow as his thumb brushed over her nipple, prompting a sharp gasp from her mouth. He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes, his own darkened with pleasure as he watched her lips part on a moan.

“That’s it,” he cooed, squeezing her breast gently in his palm. “Lemme see you.”

She arched into his touch with a faint whimper, her nails dragging lightly down the back of his neck as she let her head tip back against the pillows. The heat of his hand on her skin, the rhythmic push of his hips — every sensation tightened the heat already curling low in her stomach with each deep roll of his body against hers. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, her legs tightening around his waist as she pulled him closer, craving the weight of him pressing her into the mattress.

Eddie growled, low and rough, when she clenched around him, his fingers flexing on her side as his hips stuttered slightly. His lips found hers again in a slow, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue dragging lazily over hers while his free hand slid down her body, slipping between them to press into the heat of her. The first brush of his fingers against her clit drew a sharp cry from her, muffled by his mouth as she writhed beneath him, pleasure coiling tighter in her stomach.

“Fuck,” she hissed lightly, pulling back from the kiss as her nails dug deeper into his shoulders. The tension pulled tighter with every deliberate stroke of his fingers, every deep thrust of his hips — her body trembled beneath him, heat pooling low until it threatened to spill over. Eddie watched her unravel with dark, possessive satisfaction, his rhythm faltering as her thighs clenched around him.

“Atta girl,” he rasped, breath ragged against her ear as her back arched off the mattress. The back of her head pushed into the pillow as she came undone beneath him, every muscle tensing before sinking into the sheets — Eddie watched her fall apart with heavy-lidded eyes, his own release chasing hers with a groan muffled against her shoulder.

He stayed inside her for another moment, savoring the way her body still fluttered around him before finally pulling out with a quiet exhale. His fingers brushed stray hairs back from her forehead as his thumb traced the warm flush high on her cheeks.

“Damn good way to start the day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her nose before rolling off the bed with a quiet grunt.

“Ugh,” she whined the second his weight disappeared from above her. Laughing softly as he stretched, Eddie tossed her a wink while adjusting himself back into his pants.

“C’mon, don’t make that face,” he teased, bending to retrieve his belt before giving her thigh a playful swat. “If I’m any later, Ray’s gonna start thinkin’ I died.”

She smiled, huffing a quiet laugh through her nose as she rolled onto her side to watch him fix his belt and pull his work shirt on. Eddie stood from the bed afterward, grabbing his watch from the nightstand and fastening it around his wrist with practiced ease. When his gaze lifted back to her, a dimple pressed into his cheek as he smiled.

A second later, he crossed back toward the bed, bracing a hand beside her as he bent down to leave one last soft kiss against her lips before pulling back just enough for his face to hover above hers.

“See you later, angel,” he murmured, “I’ll call you on my break.”

“Okay, baby,” she smiled sweetly. The way she looked up at him — soft and sleepy, skin still flushed from the morning they’d shared — made something tighten warmly in his chest. His hand came up to cradle her face, thumb brushing lightly along her cheekbone as he leaned down once more, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate tone she adored so much.

“I love you,” he said.

She looked at him softly, the sincerity behind it was unmistakable. “I love you.”

His thumb lingered against her cheek for another second before he finally straightened with a reluctant sigh, reaching for his keys on the dresser, the soft jingle of metal filling the room.

“Don’t go back to sleep before you eat something,” he said, glancing back at her with that familiar fondness and slight bossy tilt of his chin.

She mirrored the look with exaggerated seriousness. “Will do.”

“They work together?” he asks. There’s a click, and the back of the van illuminates with the light from a little camping lantern to Eddie’s right.

You laugh dryly. “My mom doesn’t trust my dad to go alone after the last time. He got a little too close to a secretary half his age.”

“Oh.”

“The beauty of the nuclear family,” you hum. “Parents who barely love each other, and siblings who never speak to each other.” You could really use a beer.

“You and your brother used to be close though?”

“He used to look up to me. He was my little right hand man,” you say, with a somber smile. “But all boys learn to hate their sisters eventually. Especially when the sisters are bitches.”

“That’s harsh,” Eddie says.

“Harsh but true. I’m a total bitch. Everybody knows it.”

He shrugs. “You’ve been pretty tolerable the past twenty-four hours.”

“Just tolerable? And here I thought we were bonding,” you pout, kicking his foot.

He kicks you back. “We are. Just keeping your ego in check.”

You laugh softly, letting the moment hang in the air before you continue the conversation.

“You don’t have any siblings, right?” Eddie Munson’s home life has been pretty much broadcast to all of Hawkins, but you never know the full story unless you hear it from the source, right?

“No,” he answers. “But Hellfire is pretty close.”

“Right, your little ducklings.”

“I prefer to call them sheep, and I their shepherd.” He speaks with a haughty tone that resembles a medieval squire. He probably makes a good Dungeon Master. Better than you had, anyway.

“Sounds to me like you’ve got a bit of a god complex.”

“Uh, obviously? That’s like the number one requirement for being a cult leader,” he teases.

“Ugh, will you let that go?” you groan.

“You know, life would be so much easier for us if people could just wrap their heads around the fact that Dungeons and Dragons isn’t satanic.”

“Yeah. If they knew you were all just a bunch of dweebs playing make-believe in basements they’d feel sorry instead of scared.”

“Exactly!” Eddie says, throwing up his hands.

“Do you ever miss it?” he asks. “Being a dweeb?”

“I was never a dweeb.”

Eddie flops over his hands lying in his lap. “Did we not just establish that playing D&D makes you a dweeb?”

“I didn’t play because I wanted to. I played because my brother wanted me to,” you correct. “But yeah, I do kind of miss it.”

“Do you ever think about reaching out?”

“I bully kids like my brother,” you mutter. The sentiment sinks into you like oil to silk. “Reaching out isn’t really on the table.”

“Do you ever think about changing?”

The question is sour to your ears.

“I’m tired of talking. Let’s make out,” you say, standing from your position against the van’s wall to step over and drop into Eddie’s lap. He jumps beneath you.

“Okay. I think we’re deflecting,” he stammers through an uneasy smile.

You tilt your head, looking at him impatiently. “Do you not want to make out with me?”

“I just feel like I asked a serious question, and you’re trying to distract me with your feminine wiles.”

“We’re not serious, Munson. You’re not entitled to my feelings,” you snap.

Eddie frowns. “You’re right. I’m not.”

“Okay. Now, do you want to fool around or what?”

Eddie bites his lip. You swallow your budding anger to plaster on a more seductive expression. Your hand slides up his chest, and you shift your body closer up on his legs.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” you purr, causing him to suck in a breath.

“You’re trouble,” he whispers. “Real trouble.”

“I know,” you whisper back, right against his lips. He swings into your gravity but freezes short of contact.

Since he’s too sweet to initiate, you do the work for him. You take Eddie’s lips to yours, and he stutters to life like his van after turning the key three times in the ignition. His hands grip your hips, grunting as you grind down onto him. He tastes like cigarettes, and you’ll have to remember to ask him for one when you’re done with him.

Eddie is a clumsy kisser at first, but he’s also a quick learner. He falls into a rhythm with you, matching the speed you set and your use of tongue. You’re quickly realizing that something about his clear inexperience and eagerness is becoming a turn on for you. Kissing is so annoying when boys know what they expect to get out of it. Eddie kisses like he’s lucky enough to do just that.

You reward his good behavior by trailing your lips down his neck and sucking on a spot that drives a soft whine from his lips which far from matches his harsh exterior. You laugh softly against his skin when you feel him harden beneath you. “You like that, Freak?”

“I—” He moans again when you grind down onto him. “Yeah,” he chokes.

“Have you ever eaten a girl out before, Munson?” you whisper into his flushed ear. His panting breaths puff against your collar.

“Uh—Well—”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, please.”

You pat his chin, grinning. “Good boy.”

Eddie gawks at you as you remove yourself from his lap to undress, tossing clothes and shoes whichever way you please until you’re left in your underwear. He jumps to action when you start to lay yourself back on the floor, shucking his jacket to fold up and rest under your head. He holds soft eye contact as he slowly lowers you onto the makeshift pillow.

“You are so cute,” you say, hooking your hands behind his neck to pull him down into another kiss. His eagerness returns, although he has to slam his elbow into the floorboard to keep from falling on top of you. There’s more confidence in his body as he sets his knees on either side of you and trails kisses down your neck. He doesn’t suck or bite. His touch is almost alien, too gentle for a one time thing.

“Let’s just skip to the sex part. I’m ready,” you say, pushing him away so that you can climb back on top.

“No,” he says, gripping the hands you’ve set on his shoulders. “I—Can I . . . I want to . . .”

“Want to what?” you tease.

“Let me go down on you. Please,” he says. He stares so deep into your eyes it’s like he reaches your soul. Your breathing seizes. You can’t get any words out, so you nod and let him lay you back down.

He trails his soft kisses down your chest. One hand reaches to slowly draw down your bra strap until the cup is pulled loose enough to where he can slide it down from your breast. He peppers more kisses along the skin until finally suckling on your nipple, pulling a gasp from your lips. You’re surprised when he doesn’t need your help to undo the clasp, even more so by how quickly he manages the task. The general consensus that guitarists are pretty dexterous must be true.

Eddie cups both breasts in either hand, sharing his attention between them with his lips. The action feeds an ache that you haven’t felt this strong in a long time.

“Get on with it,” you snap.

Eddie laughs into your skin, popping back up to kiss your lips. “All right, sweetheart.”

He’s already halfway down your body again, too far to catch the way your brow furrows at the pet name. You bite your lip, considering the way the word feels as it settles on your skin until Eddie slides down your underwear and rips another gasp from your mouth when he slips his tongue between your lips.

Eddie needs a bit of help to find the right spot, but he takes instruction well, which is more than you can say for some of the hook-ups you’ve had in the past. He experiments with lapping and sucking, massaging and circling, until gasps turn to whimpers turn to moans.

You’re not usually this loud, at least not genuinely. Boys tend to get more energetic when they feel like they’re doing well, and that energy is your only chance at actually getting off, so you have a habit of playing it up. Well, with Eddie, you’re loud. No theatrics about it, and to the point that it would be embarrassing if Eddie didn’t seem too preoccupied to care.

Your hands latch into his hair, and his to your thighs. For a second, your fantasies have actually become real, from imagining pulling at his long curls to having them taut between your fingertips. He groans as you tug, fueling his steady ministrations on you. But, in your fantasies he’s rough. His hands bruise instead of soothe. His words taunt instead of praise.

This Eddie, the real Eddie, is nothing like you fantasized about, and you’re not sure what that means.

You come sooner than you expect, with a cry and a tremor that travels across your whole body. Eddie keeps going until you have to push him away. He lifts his head with a face that begs for affirmation.

“Fuck, Munson,” is all you say, tossing your hand over your racing heart. Your skin is dewy with sweat.

Eddie crawls back up your body, kissing here and there along your skin. You stop him before he makes it to your mouth.

“Ew,” you cringe. “Wipe your mug.”

“Sorry,” he says, cleaning his face with the back of his hand.

“All right, big boy,” you say, sitting up. “Let me repay the favor.”

You’re already in his lap when Eddie says, “I’m all right,” with a soft blush on his cheeks.

You freeze, fingers hovering at his belt buckle. “What?” No guy has ever turned down sex with you, especially this far into foreplay.

Eddie bites his lip. “I, you know, I’m . . . I’m good.”

“You came?” You gawk at him, jaw loose. “From that?”

He averts his gaze. “Uh, yeah . . .” The tips of his ears tinge red, and he tugs his hair to cover it.

You huff a laugh, and a flabbergasted smile encroaches on your face. “Wow. You really are something.”

Eddie clearly doesn’t know what to say to that since he bounces between facial expressions before settling on a shrug.

You pat him twice on the chest before climbing off him to find your clothes.

“All right. Take me home, and maybe I’ll consider picking up where we left off after dinner.”

Next Chapter

Surrender to Dreams Taglist: @vampire-kissi3s Stranger Things Taglist: @ggdawgg Eddie Munson Taglist: @itzpixiebabe, @loonylups Fic Taglist: @brrrainst3w, @bonnieprincess

Eddie still remembers the day he first laid eyes on you. Summer, going into his third senior year at Hawkins, you walked into Larry’s Auto Body Repair looking like something pulled from the pages of a half-burnt gothic novel left to rot in an attic trunk.

The heat outside had been miserable; thick, wet Indiana air that made grease cling to skin and tempers run short, but you arrived untouched by it all. Draped in black despite the July sun, lace sleeves swallowing your wrists, silver rings glinting like tiny knives beneath the fluorescent lights. 

Your perfume smelled faintly of clove cigarettes, old paper, and rain. Long dark hair spilled down your back in soft waves, and your eyes, God, your eyes, looked mournful in the way stained glass saints did. Beautiful enough to make a man confess every awful thing he’s ever done, truth or not.

Eddie had nearly dropped an engine part directly on his foot.

You’d stepped into the garage like you belonged in another century entirely, gaze drifting slowly across the room with detached fascination, lingering on rusted tools and oil stains as if they were artifacts in a museum.

Then you smiled at him. Not sweet, not shy, but devastating. Like you already knew every terrible thing about him and adored him for it anyway. From that moment on, Eddie Munson was ruined.

Years later, the people of Hawkins still spoke about the two of you in hushed, bewildered voices. The Munsons of the Creel House. The strange family on the hill with wrought iron gates, tangled in dead vines and black roses that somehow bloomed year-round. 

Children swore candlelight moved through the windows at impossible hours. Neighbors whispered about organ music drifting through storms and the silhouettes dancing behind curtains long after midnight.

The truth was far less sinister, mostly. You simply loved beautiful things that others were too frightened to appreciate. And Eddie loved you enough to follow you anywhere, even the old Creel House.

At first, he’d refused to even step onto the property. Too many memories. Too much blood soaked into those walls. Vecna. Chrissy. The Upside Down. Every rotten thing Hawkins tried desperately to bury lived in the bones of that house.

But then you’d walked through the front doors for the first time, black dress trailing over dusty hardwood, staring up at the massive chandelier with wonder glowing across your face like moonlight.

“Eddie,” you’d whispered softly, almost reverently. “It’s perfect.”

And that had been it. Because you looked at the house the same way you looked at him, not with fear, but affection. Like ruined things deserved devotion too. So he rebuilt it for you.

Every creaking staircase. Every shattered window. Every rotted inch of wallpaper. Together, you turned the graveyard of Victor Creel’s legacy into something warm, strange, and terribly romantic. A home, your home.

Corvina, your eldest daughter, drifted through the manor like a tiny phantom in velvet dresses, all solemn eyes and unnerving intelligence. She collected moth wings in glass jars and read Poe beneath thunderstorms while Eddie watched with equal parts pride and concern.

Meanwhile, Edward Jr, though everyone called him Teddy, was chaos incarnate. Wild curls, scraped knees, and his father’s crooked grin. The poor kid had inherited Eddie’s dramatic flair and your complete lack of fear, which meant most afternoons ended with him attempting something mildly catastrophic somewhere on the property.

Eddie had been hesitant about naming him after himself. Truthfully, he was terrified.

He remembered sitting beside you in bed while rain battered the windows, your newborn son asleep against your chest. Candlelight flickered gold across your skin as Eddie stared at the tiny little thing wearing his name.

“What if he ends up like me?” he’d asked quietly. You’d looked at him then with that same devastating softness you’d always reserved for his ugliest thoughts.

“My darling,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his curls, “I should certainly hope so.”

And just like that, the fear dissolved. Because in your eyes, Eddie Munson had never been something to outgrow or overcome. He had always been something to cherish.

The Creel House came alive slowly in the mornings. Rain tapped softly against the tall windows that morning, the sky outside painted silver and gloomy in the way you adored most.

Eddie stood at the stove in silk pajama pants and a black robe hanging open over his tattooed chest, swaying dramatically to the music while making pancakes shaped vaguely like bats.

“Darling,” you called from your place at the kitchen table, long black sleeves draped elegantly around your coffee cup, “I do believe those are becoming progressively less edible.”

Eddie pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. “Cruel. Wounded before breakfast.”

“You married me for my cruelty.”

“I married you because you looked at me like a Victorian widow cursed by the sea.”

You smiled over the rim of your mug. “And you looked like trouble wrapped in leather.”

“Mm,” Eddie hummed proudly. “Still do.”

Before you could respond, Eddie appeared beside your chair suddenly, dramatically dropping to one knee like a man overcome with passion. He took your hand delicately, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Then another to your wrist. Then another just beneath your sleeve.

You laughed softly, tilting your head as his curls brushed your skin. “Edward Munson,” you murmured. “The children are awake.”

“Good,” he replied against your hand. “They should witness devotion.”

Right on cue, Corvina entered the kitchen carrying three books against her chest, long dark braid hanging over one shoulder. She glanced once at the scene before deadpanning:

“You’re disgusting.”

“Thank you, my dove,” you said warmly.

Corvina moved to pour herself coffee like she hadn’t witnessed anything unusual at all. Then came the sound of slower footsteps, Teddy.

Edward Jr. appeared in the doorway wearing his Hawkins High hoodie, backpack hanging off one shoulder, curls sticking up wildly like he’d been running nervous hands through them for an hour.

And immediately, both you and Eddie noticed the expression on his face, and Eddie straightened a little. “Whoa. What’s with the funeral look, Theodore?”

Teddy hesitated, then slowly held up a folded yellow slip of paper. Your brows lifted slightly while Corvina sipped her coffee with the detached calm of someone witnessing an execution.

“It’s a summons,” Teddy muttered.

Eddie blinked once, then dramatically pointed the spatula toward him. “What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“That’s exactly what I used to say,” Eddie nodded solemnly. “And I was usually innocent at least forty percent of the time.”

You extended your hand calmly. “May I see it, darling?”

Teddy crossed the kitchen and handed it over anxiously while Eddie abandoned the pancakes entirely to loom over your shoulder. His chin immediately dropped onto the top of your head while his arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind instinctively.

You unfolded the slip carefully:

REQUESTED PARENT CONFERENCE. PRINCIPAL HIGGINS. REGARDING: EDWARD MUNSON JR.

Eddie groaned immediately. “Jesus Christ. They started early this year.”

Teddy looked miserable. “Dad, I swear, I didn’t even do anything. It was those idiots from the basketball team—they kept messing with my stuff in gym, and one of them shoved me into a locker, and when I shoved him back, he started bleeding and—”

“Bleeding?” Corvina asked mildly.

“He ran into the trophy case!”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Natural selection.”

“Teddy,” you said softly, reaching for his hand. “Look at me.”

He did immediately.

And despite being nearly Eddie’s height now, despite the deepening voice and teenage awkwardness settling into his limbs, he still looked at you the same way he had as a child: like you could fix anything simply by speaking.

“You are not in trouble with us,” you assured gently.

Eddie nodded instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“But—”

“Nope.” Eddie waved him off. “Listen, kid, Hawkins High has been blaming Munsons for shit since before you were born. It’s practically a school tradition.”

Teddy huffed out a nervous laugh. You rose from your chair then, smoothing your hands over Eddie’s wrists where they rested around your waist. “We’ll attend the meeting.”

“Together,” Eddie added.

“And if your principal insists on being unreasonable,” you continued calmly, “your father does so enjoy making authority figures uncomfortable.”

Eddie grinned wickedly. “Baby, remember the vice principal in ‘89?”

You smiled faintly. “He looked moments from cardiac arrest.”

Teddy finally laughed properly at that, the tension melting from his shoulders almost instantly.

Without another word, Eddie reached over and grabbed one of the bat-shaped pancakes, shoving it onto Teddy’s plate. “Eat up, kid,” he said. “Nothing scarier than school administration on an empty stomach.”

Corvina glanced toward the stove. “Those are burnt.”

“They’re wonderful,” Eddie corrected.

You reached for his hand again, kissing his knuckles this time. “My talented husband,” you said softly.

Eddie practically preened under the affection, leaning down immediately to kiss you dramatically enough to make Corvina groan.

“Oh, my God.”

“Teddy,” Eddie said seriously against your mouth, “never settle for a love that doesn’t make your children physically ill.”

“Noted,” Teddy muttered through a mouthful of pancake.

By noon, rain had turned into a heavy mist that clung to Hawkins like a veil, which was the exact kind of weather you loved. The kind of weather Eddie insisted was “romantic as hell.”

The two of you walked through the halls of Hawkins High side by side like something entirely out of place amongst the fluorescent lighting and beige walls. Students slowed as you passed, conversations dipping into whispers almost immediately.

You floated through the hallway in a long black coat that brushed your calves, silver jewelry gleaming beneath the dim lights, while Eddie walked beside you in dark rings and leather, one hand firmly wrapped around yours, as if he physically couldn’t stand not touching you for more than a few seconds.

Which, truthfully, he couldn’t.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured low enough only you could hear as you approached the office, “if Higgins pisses me off, are we thinking subtle psychological warfare or full public humiliation?”

You glanced at him calmly. “Let us see how brave he feels first.”

“God, I love when you threaten people poetically.”

The secretary barely looked up when you entered the office, though her expression tightened almost immediately at the sight of Eddie, still, after all these years. Eddie noticed too, squeezing your hand once before leaning casually against the counter.

“We’re here about Teddy,” he said.

The woman cleared her throat awkwardly. “Principal Higgins is expecting you.”

“Lucky him,” Eddie muttered.

You placed a gentle hand against his chest before he could continue, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his jacket. “Behave, mon amour.”

Eddie looked down at you like you’d hung the moon itself in the sky. “For you?” he said softly. “Always.”

The secretary looked deeply uncomfortable. Good.

Principal Higgins’ office looked exactly the same as it had when Eddie sat in it at seventeen; stale coffee smell, ugly filing cabinets, school banners hanging crookedly on the walls.

Only now, Higgins himself had more gray hair and less patience. He didn’t stand when you entered. Instead, he leaned back slowly in his chair, eyes moving between you both with poorly concealed irritation.

“Mr. and Mrs. Munson.”

Eddie sat down across from him casually, slinging an arm immediately across the back of your chair. “Higgins,” he replied. “Still alive, huh?”

You rested one elegant hand atop Eddie’s knee beneath the desk, feeling him relax instantly under your touch.

Higgins ignored the comment. “Teddy was involved in an altercation yesterday afternoon.”

“Involved,” Eddie repeated. “Interesting wording.”

“He assaulted another student.”

“He defended himself,” you corrected smoothly.

Higgins finally looked directly at you then, expression tightening slightly. “And how exactly would you know that, Mrs. Munson?”

“Because, unlike this institution,” you replied calmly, “our son tells us the truth.”

Higgins folded his hands atop the desk. “Mrs. Munson, with all due respect, Edward Jr. has inherited certain… behavioral tendencies.”

There it was. Eddie’s jaw tightened instantly beneath the lazy posture he wore like armor. But you? You simply tilted your head slightly.

“What an unfortunate thing to say aloud,” you murmured.

Higgins shifted faintly. Eddie watched you carefully now, eyes practically sparkling because he knew that tone and knew it well. It was the same tone you used moments before verbally disemboweling someone.

“The Munson family,” Higgins continued carefully, “has had a difficult history with this school. Your husband, especially.”

Eddie gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, because this town treated me like I was carrying the plague.”

“You developed quite the reputation.”

“And your athletes didn’t?” Eddie shot back. “Interesting.”

“Eddie,” you said softly, not looking away from Higgins. You folded your hands neatly in your lap, expression serene enough to be unsettling.

“Our son,” you said carefully, “was cornered by three boys larger than him.”

Higgins opened his mouth, but you continued before he could speak.

“One shoved him into a locker repeatedly. Another destroyed his sketchbook. And when Theodore defended himself after being physically provoked, suddenly, he became the problem.”

Silence, and Higgins shifted again. You leaned forward slightly then, dark eyes steady on his.

“And now you sit before two former students who know exactly how Hawkins High operates and imply there is some sort of inherited defect in our child because his last name is Munson.”

Eddie looked dangerously proud beside you.

Higgins cleared his throat. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“No?” you asked gently. “Then perhaps choose your words more carefully.”

The office went quiet except for the rain tapping softly against the windows. Eddie finally leaned forward himself, rings clinking against the desk.

“Look,” he said flatly, “I know exactly what this place thinks about me. Fine. Whatever. But you do not get to stick that shit onto my son because some meathead couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

Higgins sighed heavily. “No one is suspending Teddy.”

“Very generous,” Corvina’s voice drawled suddenly from the doorway.

All three of you turned. Corvina stood there holding a hall pass and looking deeply unimpressed.

“She followed us?” Higgins asked incredulously.

“She’s observant,” you replied.

“And nosy,” Eddie added proudly.

Corvina stepped inside without invitation. “Also, for the record, Tyler Bennett admitted in chemistry that he started it because Teddy wouldn’t let them make fun of that freshman girl.”

Eddie blinked. Then slowly turned toward his son’s principal with the most insufferably smug expression imaginable. “Huh,” he said. “Would you look at that?”

You reached over then, brushing your fingers lovingly along Eddie’s jaw.

“My darling,” you sighed softly. “It appears our son inherited your unfortunate tendency toward heroics.”

Eddie practically melted into your hand. “Baby,” he whispered dramatically, grabbing your wrist to kiss your palm, “you say the sexiest things to me.”

Corvina stood near the doorway with her arms crossed, entirely too pleased with herself. Eddie lounged back in his chair again, one boot hooked over his knee while he admired you with open, ridiculous affection.

Meanwhile, you remained perfectly composed, which somehow made you infinitely more terrifying.

“Well,” Higgins said stiffly after a long silence, “I believe this matter can be considered resolved.”

“How fortunate,” you replied smoothly.

Eddie snorted under his breath, and Higgins ignored him. “I’ll speak with the boys involved.”

“You should,” you said. “Especially if the school wishes to maintain the illusion of fairness.”

The principal’s jaw tightened faintly. Then, as though remembering something unpleasant, his eyes flicked briefly toward a framed flyer hanging beside his desk. 

Hawkins High Arts Expansion Fund: Sponsored by the Munson Mortuary. 

Eddie noticed immediately, as did you. A slow smile touched your lips. “You know,” you mused softly, rising from your chair, “Edward and I have always cared deeply about the arts.”

Eddie stood the second you did, naturally gravitating toward your side like a shadow stitched to your heels.

“The theater department,” you continued thoughtfully, smoothing the sleeve of your coat, “the music programs, student scholarships…”

Higgins straightened slightly.

“Hell,” Eddie added casually, “the new ceramics kiln was us.”

You turned your attention back to Higgins, expression warm enough to unsettle.

“It would simply devastate us,” you said gently, “if the environment here became hostile enough that we no longer felt comfortable continuing such generosity.”

Higgins cleared his throat quickly. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

“No,” you agreed pleasantly. “I imagine it won’t.”

Eddie grinned beside you like the devil himself. God, he loved you. Loved the way you could flay someone alive without ever raising your voice. Loved the way people underestimated your softness right until the moment they realized it had teeth.

You reached for his hand, and he took it instantly.

“Well,” Eddie sighed dramatically, “this has been deeply irritating.”

As the four of you started toward the office door, Higgins spoke again. “Mrs. Munson.”

You paused, turning slightly. “I assure you,” he said carefully, “Theodore will be treated fairly.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “I should hope so.”

And with that, you left. The halls quieted again as your family walked through them together.

Eddie’s hand remained clasped tightly with yours while Corvina drifted ahead in a sea of black fabric, entirely unbothered by the stares surrounding her.

The second the front doors shut behind you, Eddie turned toward you with outright admiration burning in his expression.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Marry me again.”

You looked at him calmly. “I would a thousand times.”

Candles flickered low throughout the house, golden light dancing against dark wallpaper while thunder rolled softly somewhere in the distance.

Dinner had long since ended, dishes abandoned in favor of the far more important activity of Eddie dramatically sprawled across the velvet chaise in the sitting room with his head in your lap.

“Darling,” he sighed as you lazily combed your fingers through his curls, “if I die right now, know that I died fulfilled.”

“You’re forty years old,” Corvina deadpanned from the armchair across the room. “Not a dying Victorian poet.”

Eddie pointed accusingly toward her without lifting his head. “Your mother encourages this cruelty.”

You smiled softly down at him. “I find it endearing.”

“That’s because you worship me.”

“Correct.”

Corvina physically recoiled. “Can you two act normal for ten minutes?”

“No,” both of you answered immediately.

Teddy snorted from the floor where he sat building something suspiciously dangerous out of spare radio parts. Then, the doorbell rang, and everyone paused. Corvina moved first, way too fast for her character. 

You noticed immediately. Eddie noticed immediately. Teddy noticed immediately. The three of you slowly turned toward her as she stood abruptly from the chair, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her black skirt.

“…Interesting,” you murmured.

Corvina narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.”

Eddie sat up slowly now, a grin already forming. “Oh, my God.”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Corvina Lucille Munson,” Teddy gasped dramatically. “Are you nervous?”

“I will kill you.”

The bell rang again. Corvina moved toward the front door with all the rigid dignity of someone approaching their execution.

You and Eddie exchanged a look. Then, silently, both rose from your seats to follow.

The front door creaked open, and standing beneath the porch light was perhaps the least expected person imaginable. A boy. Tall, clean-cut, nervous beyond belief. Bright blue varsity jacket. Hair neatly combed. Holding flowers.

The poor thing looked like he’d wandered into the wrong horror movie. Corvina stared at him; the boy stared at Corvina. Then his eyes slowly lifted, and landed directly on you and Eddie looming behind her like two beautifully dressed vampires awaiting explanation.

His face drained completely of color. Eddie blinked once, then immediately leaned toward you and whispered with genuine awe:

“He looks like he says ‘yes ma’am’ unironically.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “How refreshing.”

“Mom,” Corvina warned.

The boy swallowed hard. “H-hi, Mr. and Mrs. Munson.”

Eddie lit up instantly. “Oh, I like him.”

Corvina closed her eyes briefly like she regretted ever being born. You stepped forward gracefully, gaze drifting over the bouquet in his trembling hands.

“How lovely,” you said softly. “Funeral lilies.”

“They’re her favorite,” he blurted.

Then you looked at Corvina slowly, while Corvina looked horrified. Eddie looked seconds from losing his mind entirely.

“Teddy,” he whispered sharply. “Your sister has a boyfriend.”

“I KNEW IT.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” Corvina snapped immediately. “He’s an experiment.”

The boy blinked. “An… experiment?”

“You’re studying social dynamics?” you guessed politely.

“Yes,” Corvina said quickly.

Eddie crossed his arms. “By holding hands with the quarterback?”

“Second-string quarterback,” Teddy corrected.

Everyone looked at the boy while he awkwardly raised one hand. “We lost regionals.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Oh my God, sweetheart,” he wheezed to you. “She brought home a jock.”

“He’s not a jock.”

The boy tried to help. “I’m also on the debate team.”

You gasped softly. “How multifaceted.”

Corvina looked moments from throwing herself from the staircase.

Eddie grinned wickedly at her. “Baby bat’s got a crush.”

“I do not.”

“He knows your favorite flowers,” Teddy sang obnoxiously.

“I hate this family.”

The boy, still somehow standing there despite the obvious psychological warfare occurring around him, looked toward Corvina carefully. And to everyone’s shock, his expression softened.

“She talks about you guys a lot, actually.”

Corvina froze.

Eddie immediately clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh, my.”

“Dad.”

“She told me,” the boy continued nervously, “that her parents are… intense, but very in love.”

You smiled faintly. Corvina looked like she wanted the floorboards to consume her.

“And,” he added carefully, “that her dad still leaves dead roses on her mom’s pillow every morning.”

Eddie looked at you instantly, utterly smitten. “Baby,” he whispered emotionally, “our love is inspiring the youth.”

You reached up, smoothing your hand against his jaw affectionately. “We are deeply romantic.”

“You’re deeply weird,” Teddy corrected.

“Thank you.”

Corvina groaned. “Can we please go before they start kissing again?”

Too late. Eddie had already grabbed your hand dramatically.

“You wound me, little raven,” he said, pressing a theatrical kiss against your knuckles. “Your mother’s beauty simply overwhelms me.”

The boy stared. Teddy stared. Corvina pinched the bridge of her nose. And you, you simply looked at your husband with soft, endless devotion while thunder echoed gently overhead.

“Oh, mon amour,” you sighed lovingly. “You are still the most handsome thing this house has ever held.”

Eddie nearly died on the spot.

The house felt different when the children were gone. Corvina had vanished off to some poetry reading with her painfully polite almost-boyfriend, while Teddy was staying overnight at a friend’s house after aggressively insisting he was “old enough to survive one night without parental supervision.”

Eddie had looked personally offended by the statement. 

Now the evening rain had finally stopped, leaving the world outside soaked silver beneath the moonlight.

You stood in front of the bedroom mirror, fastening a pair of silver earrings, when Eddie appeared in the doorway, already staring at you like a man deeply unwell. His dark button-up hung half-open, curls still damp from the shower, rings glinting in the candlelight.

But his expression, my God. After all these years, he still looked at you like the first breath after drowning.

“Well,” he murmured, leaning against the doorframe, “there goes every coherent thought I’ve ever had.”

You smiled softly at his reflection. “You say that every time I wear black.”

“Because every time you wear black, I fall in love with you all over again.”

“You’re very dramatic.”

“You’re very beautiful. We all cope differently.” You laughed quietly as he crossed the room toward you.

The second he reached you, his hands found your waist instinctively, warm and familiar through the fabric of your dress. He buried his face briefly against your neck with a content sigh like “this—this right here—was the safest place in the universe.”

“Close your eyes,” he murmured.

You raised a brow. “Edward.”

“Please?”

Amused, you obeyed. You heard him moving around the room for a moment before something soft brushed across your palms.

Flowers. 

When you opened your eyes again, Eddie stood before you holding a bouquet of black dahlias and dead roses tied together with velvet ribbon, just like your first date.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Eddie suddenly looked shy beneath all the tattoos and bravado. “I know they’re a little wilted, but Gareth’s florist cousin said—”

“They’re perfect.”

The relief on his face was immediate. You reached up carefully, fingertips brushing his cheek while he melted into your touch on instinct.

“Do you remember,” you asked softly, “what you said to me the night you gave me flowers for the first time?”

Eddie grinned a little. “Yeah.” He leaned closer. “‘Most girls want roses. You looked like you’d appreciate something half-dead.’”

“And I nearly married you on the spot.”

“You definitely wanted me carnally.”

You laughed again and kissed him gently. Eddie hummed happily against your mouth, already chasing after another kiss before you’d fully pulled away.

“Come on,” he whispered. “I’ve got a surprise.”

The graveyard sat at the edge of Hawkins beneath enormous twisted trees, moonlight filtering silver across old headstones and damp grass. Most people found it unsettling, but you found it beautiful, especially tonight.

Your breath caught softly as Eddie led you through the cemetery gates hand in hand.

Because there, beneath the crooked oak tree where he’d taken you all those years ago, sat an entire picnic laid out atop black blankets and velvet pillows. Candles flickered inside lanterns. An old radio played something metal, low enough to blend with the wind.

Your favorite wine rested beside a basket overflowing with chocolate-covered strawberries and homemade pastries, which Eddie had very obviously burnt slightly. And in the center, a vase of black dahlias. Eddie rubbed the back of his neck suddenly, almost bashful. “I know it’s kinda stupid—”

“It isn’t.”

Your voice was so soft that it stopped him immediately. He watched as you stepped slowly into the little space he’d created, moonlight catching the emotion shimmering across your face.

“You remembered everything,” you whispered.

“Course I did.”

Eddie moved closer then, taking your hands carefully. “This is where I fell in love with you,” he admitted quietly. “Figured it deserved revisiting.”

Your chest ached. Because despite all his theatrics, despite the flirting and dramatics and endless teasing, Eddie loved with terrifying sincerity, always had.

You touched his face gently. “You never told me you loved me that night.”

“No,” he said softly. “But I knew.”

The wind moved through the cemetery trees around you, carrying the scent of rain and earth and candle smoke. Then Eddie suddenly dropped dramatically onto the blanket.

“Now,” he announced, patting the spot beside him, “come seduce your husband under the moonlight.”

You smiled helplessly and settled beside him. Immediately, he pulled you into his lap like gravity itself demanded it. You curled against him easily, fingers playing with the rings on his hand while his chin rested atop your shoulder.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply existed there together beneath the stars, wrapped in candlelight and old music and decades worth of devotion.

Eventually, Eddie pressed a slow kiss against your neck. “You know,” he murmured, “I was so scared to bring you here on our first date.”

You turned slightly. “You were?”

“Terrified.” He laughed softly against your skin. “Wayne told me if I took a girl to a graveyard, she’d think I was either a serial killer or possessed.”

“And instead?”

“You told me it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you.”

“It still is.”

Eddie looked at you then. And suddenly he was twenty again; grease stains on his hands, heart beating too fast, staring at the most hauntingly beautiful girl he’d ever seen while wondering how someone so lovely could possibly want him back.

Only now, he knew, because you’d spent decades proving it.

His hand slid carefully against your cheek. “My sweet girl,” he whispered.

You kissed him before he could say anything else. Slow and loving, the kind of kiss built from years and years of choosing each other over and over again. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled softly again.

Eddie smiled against your mouth. “Think the kids are behaving themselves?”

You smoothed your fingers through his curls lazily. “Not our concern tonight.”

“God,” he sighed happily, pulling you impossibly closer, “I adore you.”

“Eddie,” you whispered, tilting your head as his lips brushed the side of your neck. “You’ve outdone yourself, mon amour.”

He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “Only the best for you.”

You laughed softly, and the sound made him tighten his hold, one hand sliding reverently down your side, tracing the black silk of your dress. 

Eddie loved pleasing you more than anything, maybe even more than breathing. He lived for the way your breath would hitch when he touched you just right, for the way you looked at him like he was the only man in any world worth having.

His fingers found the hem of your dress and slipped beneath it, warm palm gliding up your thigh. “Let me worship you here,” he murmured, voice low and rough with devotion. 

You turned in his lap, straddling him, your long dark hair falling around you both like a curtain. The cemetery was empty, the night yours alone. You cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, silver rings cool against his skin.

“Then worship me, Edward,” you said softly, the command wrapped in velvet.

Eddie’s eyes darkened with hunger and endless love. He kissed you deeply, almost reverently at first, then with growing heat as your tongues met. His hands roamed, pushing your dress up around your hips. He groaned when he realized you’d worn nothing beneath it.

“Fuuuck me,” he breathed against your mouth, a crooked, adoring grin breaking through.

“Oh my love, I plan to.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, then lowered you gently onto your back atop the velvet pillows. The cool night air kissed your skin as he peeled the dress from your body, kissing every inch he revealed. Your collarbones, the swell of your breasts, the soft plane of your stomach. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you with pure reverence.

He settled between your legs, curls brushing your inner thighs as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His tongue found your center with devastating patience; slow, worshipful strokes that had your fingers tightening in his hair. 

He moaned into you like you were the finest thing he’d ever tasted, savoring every gasp and whisper of his name that left your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against your slick flesh, voice thick. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

Your back arched as pleasure coiled tight inside you, and Eddie watched it all unfold like a man witnessing divinity. When you came undone beneath his tongue, thighs trembling around his head, he held you through it, kissing you gently until the waves subsided.

Only then did he rise, shedding his shirt and pants with reverent haste. His cock was hard and aching for you, but he took his time, crawling over you, kissing you so deeply you tasted yourself on his tongue.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, lining himself up. “More than life. More than death. More than anything in this fucking universe.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him inside you with one smooth thrust. Both of you moaned at the perfect fit; years together, and it still felt like coming home. 

Eddie moved with slow, deep rolls of his hips, savoring every clench of your walls around him. His forehead pressed to yours, curls falling around your faces as he gazed into your eyes.

“Look at me while I fuck you, baby,” he breathed, devotion dripping from every word. “Want to see those saintly eyes when you come on my cock again.”

The cemetery felt alive around you; the wind whispering through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, the scent of earth and night-blooming flowers mixing with sweat and sex. Eddie’s pace gradually quickened, one hand sliding between you to circle your clit while the other pinned your wrist gently above your head.

You came again with a soft, broken cry of his name, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as pleasure wrecked him. Even then, he kept moving; lazy, loving thrusts to draw it out, kissing you through every aftershock.

Afterward, he collapsed beside you and immediately pulled you into his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine while your leg draped over his hip.

Eddie pressed a kiss to your hair, voice hoarse with satisfaction. “I’d desecrate every grave in Hawkins if it meant making you feel like that.”

You smiled against his chest, fingertips playing with the silver strands beginning to thread through his dark curls. “If we keep this up, Corvina and Teddy may have a sibling.”

“Would that be so bad? Another mini-Munson running around, raising hell?”

You rolled your eyes lovingly, planting a few peppered kisses along his chest and jaw. “Poor Principal Higgins wouldn’t know what to do with himself with a third Munson.”

Dinner in the Creel-Munson House was rarely quiet. Not because anyone particularly tried to be loud, it was simply impossible for four Munsons to exist in the same room without the atmosphere becoming theatrical.

Thunder groaned outside while candlelight flickered across the dining room, illuminating velvet curtains, silver dishes, and the massive candelabra Teddy insisted made “every meal feel like a vampire intervention.”

Tonight, Eddie had been suspiciously smug since five o’clock, you noticed immediately. Corvina noticed immediately. Teddy noticed immediately. Which meant all three of you spent most of dinner staring at him with increasing suspicion while he fought a grin behind his wine glass.

Finally, Teddy pointed his fork accusingly. “You’re hiding something.”

Eddie gasped dramatically. “What a horrible accusation.”

“You’ve been smirking for an hour,” Corvina added.

“You also called the garlic bread ‘historic,’” Teddy said. “That means something’s wrong.”

You smiled faintly from your seat at the head of the table. “Darling,” you said gently to Eddie, “are you planning a crime?”

Eddie looked delighted by the question. “No,” he answered proudly. “Something better.”

Then, with all the ceremony of a man revealing the crown jewels, Eddie reached into his jacket and slapped four tickets dramatically onto the table. Silence.

Teddy squinted. Then his eyes widened so violently you thought they might leave his skull.

“No fucking way.”

“Language,” you corrected softly.

“No FUCKING way.”

Corvina leaned forward slightly now, dark eyes narrowing in interest. Eddie sat back in his chair with unbearable smugness. “Iron Maiden,” he announced grandly. “Indianapolis. Front section.”

Teddy SHRIEKED, like actually shrieked. The sound echoed through the dining room while Eddie burst into laughter.

“Oh my God,” Teddy gasped, grabbing the tickets with trembling hands. “Dad—Dad, are you serious?!”

“Your old man still has connections, baby.”

Teddy launched out of his chair instantly. 

You sighed knowingly. “Brace yourself, mon amour.”

A second later, Teddy practically tackled Eddie backward in a hug. “There he is,” Eddie wheezed dramatically as Teddy nearly crushed him. “My son. My flesh and blood.”

“You are the coolest person alive.”

“I know.”

Corvina, meanwhile, carefully picked up one of the tickets with much more restraint. But you noticed the tiny upward twitch at the corner of her mouth immediately.

“Dickinson is still performing?” she asked calmly.

Eddie clutched his chest. “That sounded almost excited.”

“It wasn’t.”

“She got the Munson concert gene,” Teddy informed you loudly.

“She absolutely did,” Eddie whispered emotionally. Corvina rolled her eyes, though there was the faintest flush creeping into her cheeks now. You watched your family fondly from your chair, chin resting against your hand.

This. This was your favorite thing.

Eddie glowing with happiness while the children inherited every loud, passionate, ridiculous piece of him without even realizing it. Teddy flopped back into his chair, grinning wildly.

“This is literally the greatest day of my life.”

Eddie pointed at him immediately. “That’s exactly what I said when your mother kissed me the first time.”

“You say that about everything Mom does,” Corvina muttered.

“Because your mother is extraordinary.”

You reached over and touched his hand gently, as Eddie looked at you like he’d been shot directly through the heart.

Then, Corvina cleared her throat, causing everyone to look at her immediately.

“…What,” she said flatly.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You’re about to ask for something.”

“I’m not.”

“You did the voice.”

Teddy gasped dramatically. “She DID do the voice.”

Corvina looked deeply regretful. “I hate all of you.”

You smiled softly. “What is it, little raven?”

A pause. Then, with visible reluctance: “…Could I possibly have one additional ticket?”

The room went silent, and Eddie blinked once. Then slowly lowered his wine glass.

“…For who?”

Corvina stared at her plate. “No one.”

“Corvina.”

Another pause.

“…Damien.”

Eddie’s entire body reacted as if he’d just been informed the government had finally collapsed.

“THE BOYFRIEND?”

“He is not—”

“The assistant quarterback?!” Teddy shouted.

“THE DEBATE CLUB ONE?” Eddie cried simultaneously.

Corvina groaned into her hands. You, meanwhile, were trying very hard not to smile.

“He likes Iron Maiden,” Corvina muttered.

Eddie looked genuinely betrayed. “The clean-cut child likes Maiden?”

“He listens to metal with me.”

Eddie stared at her for a long moment. Then suddenly leaned back in his chair, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“She likes him.”

“I do not.”

“She’s sharing music with him,” Eddie whispered hoarsely to you. “Baby, that’s intimate.”

Teddy looked horrified. “That’s like… sacred.”

“Exactly.”

Corvina looked ready to walk into traffic. You finally spoke, voice warm with amusement.

“Perhaps,” you said carefully, “she simply enjoys his company.”

Corvina nodded quickly. “Exactly.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes immediately. “Have you held hands?”

“Dad.”

“HAVE you?”

“No.” Too fast.

Teddy slammed both hands on the table. “THAT WAS A LIE.”

Corvina pointed at him. “You are dead to me.”

Eddie suddenly looked emotional again. “Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed dramatically, “your first love.”

“It’s not love!”

You stood then, gliding around the table toward your daughter. Corvina visibly braced herself for teasing. Instead, you simply smoothed a strand of dark hair behind her ear gently.

And very softly, you said: “If someone makes our little raven smile enough to frighten her this badly… we should like to know him.”

Corvina froze. Because despite all the drama and teasing, your family loved hard. Openly, and without shame, just like Eddie always had.

The house had long since gone quiet. Somewhere downstairs, the grandfather clock groaned past midnight while rain tapped softly against the windows of your bedroom. Eddie lay sprawled across your chest like an oversized cat, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while you lazily played with his curls.

This had always been his favorite place to exist, right here, with you.

Even after all these years, he still sought you out instinctively. Every night, somehow ended the same way: his head in your lap, or tucked against your chest, or buried into your neck while he mumbled half-asleep nonsense against your skin. Tonight was no different.

“You know,” Eddie murmured sleepily, eyes closed, “I think Corvina gets scarier every day.”

You smiled softly, carefully winding one silver-threaded curl around your finger. “She is your daughter.”

“Exactly why I’m concerned.”

“You cried when she said she held his hand.”

“I did not cry.”

“You absolutely did.”

Eddie cracked one eye open. “I became emotional.”

“You gasped loud enough to frighten Teddy.”

“That was fatherly grief.”

Your laugh came soft and quiet in the dark. God, he loved that sound.

Eddie tilted his head slightly against you just to hear it again. Then your fingers paused suddenly in his curls, a tiny thing, barely noticeable. But Eddie felt it immediately.

“What?” he murmured.

You said nothing at first. Instead, your fingers carefully separated one curl from the rest, then another. Eddie finally looked up slightly, finding your expression softened by something achingly tender.

“My darling,” you whispered.

“Hm?”

You gently pulled something free: a silver strand, then another.

Eddie blinked once. “Oh,” he said.

There was no fear in his voice, just surprise. You held the strands delicately between your fingers, studying them beneath candlelight like they were precious threads of moonlight themselves.

Eddie suddenly looked sheepish. “Well,” he muttered, “guess I’m getting old.”

You looked almost offended by the statement. “Edward Munson,” you said softly, “you have survived.”

You slid from beneath him carefully, crossing toward the antique vanity near the window while Eddie watched you in sleepy confusion.

Then you reached for the little silver locket resting beside your jewelry tray, the one you wore nearly every day, etched with the letter ‘E’.

Eddie pushed himself upright slightly as you opened it carefully. Inside rested tiny fragments of your life together.

A pressed black rose petal from your wedding bouquet. A piece of the guitar pick Eddie used the first time he played guitar for you. A photograph so faded it barely showed two young people grinning in a cemetery beneath storm clouds.

Eddie went completely still.

You placed the silver strands gently beside them, like they were treasures. Then you closed the locket softly and climbed back into bed.

Eddie stared at you for a long moment after you settled beside him again. “…You kept all that?”

You looked genuinely puzzled. “Of course I did.”

“Baby, there’s literally a piece of an old guitar pick in there.”

“The broken corner because you were nervous while playing for me.”

His expression cracked instantly. “You remember that?”

“You dropped it three times before speaking to me,” you replied calmly. “You were adorable.”

Eddie let out a weak laugh, suddenly overwhelmed in the way only you could overwhelm him. Because no one had ever looked at the broken, embarrassing, vulnerable pieces of him and treated them like sacred things before you.

Your fingers slowly returned to his curls. “You know what I see,” you murmured softly, “when I look at these?”

Eddie shook his head once.

“A life.”

His eyes burned immediately, so you kissed his forehead gently.

“The silver only proves you stayed long enough to grow old with me,” you whispered.

And that nearly destroyed him. Eddie suddenly pulled himself over you completely, burying his face into your neck while holding you tight enough to make you laugh softly again.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled against your skin. “How are you real?”

You stroked your fingers through his curls carefully, silver strands and all. “I might ask you the same thing.”

“No, seriously,” Eddie groaned dramatically. “You put my gray hairs in a locket. That’s insane behavior.”

“You married me willingly.”

“I’d marry you in every lifetime.”

Your expression softened instantly. Eddie lifted his head, then just enough to look at you through the candlelight; older now, yes, lines at the corners of his eyes and silver threading through dark curls.

But still the same boy who fell hopelessly in love with a gothic girl in black lace all those years ago. Still yours, always yours.

“You know what the worst part is?” he murmured sleepily.

“What’s that, mon amour?”

“I still get nervous around you.”

You smiled. Then pulled him down into another kiss while rain whispered softly against the windows of your haunted little home.

AGH I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED ITTT:)))

Hell of a Summer pt.2 is currently in the works, GET EXCITEDDDD YUHHH

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“Alright,” Steve said, pulling his arms tightly together. “Then it’s decided. Tomorrow, the girls will each wear an article of El and Max’s clothing to throw off the Demodogs.”

“They seem to be gunning for the two of them,” Dustin continued. “El for, well, obvious reasons. And Max, because she has dodged Vecna’s curse like, a thousand times. We add some of their blood to make the scent stronger, and some of Nancy and Robin’s to theirs, so the scent is thrown off. Sound good?”

“Yeah, I love being live bait,” Robin says sarcastically, scanning over to you and Nancy.

Nancy just nods in agreement before looking down at you on the couch. 

“What about Will?” You ask, nodding over to the next room. He sat with his back to the group, eyes staring out the window ahead, headphones tight around his head. “Won’t their connection just immediately give this whole plan away?”

Jonathan sighs and closes the door, “He won’t be coming with us. He’s gonna stay at the squawk with my mom and Lucas in case Vecna’s spying. He won’t even be in communication with us.”

You nod once, flashing him a quick sympathetic smile. 

“Alright!” Dustin claps his hands together. “Meet at Lover’s Lake gate sunrise tomorrow.”

The room filled with the sound of shifting bodies and tired sighs as everyone slowly stood from their spots around the Byers' living room.

Robin immediately groaned. “Awesome. Another sunrise meetup. Love that for us.”

“You complain every single time,” Steve muttered, grabbing his car keys off the coffee table.

“Because every single time we almost die, Steve.”

“Fair.”

Nancy was already gathering scattered papers from the table, slipping them into her bag with practiced efficiency. Jonathan disappeared toward the kitchen, mumbling something about coffee, while Dustin launched himself into explaining some other part of the plan to Mike for the third time that night.

You pushed yourself up from the couch slowly, exhaustion heavy in your bones. And unfortunately, your eyes caught Eddie’s from across the room.

He stood near the hallway entrance, arms crossed tightly over his chest, fingers tapping nervously against his forearm. His eyes flicked over you for barely a second before looking away just as quickly. Still couldn’t look at each other normally.

Cool. Normal. Totally fine.

You moved first, grabbing your jacket off the arm of the couch. “I’m gonna head out.”

“I’ll walk you,” Nancy offered immediately.

Before you could answer, Eddie suddenly pushed himself off the wall.

“I got it.”

The room went weirdly quiet for half a second. Robin’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline while Steve looked physically exhausted by the tension.

You stared at Eddie. “I think I can make it to the front door alone.”

“Wasn’t saying you couldn’t,” he muttered.

God. There it was, that sharp edge the two of you had been dancing around for months now.

Nancy glanced between the two of you carefully before stepping back. “Okay then.”

You brushed past Eddie toward the door, hearing his boots follow a second later.

The cold night air hit immediately once the front door opened, damp and sharp against your skin. Crickets buzzed faintly somewhere in the distance while the porch light flickered overhead.

You descended the steps first, and Eddie lingered behind you awkwardly.

“You really think this plan’s gonna work?” you asked quietly.

Eddie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Nope.”

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself, and his mouth twitched faintly at the sound.

“But,” he added, softer, “it’s the best shot we got.”

You hated how easy it still was to stand beside him. Hated how your body still recognized him instantly. The smell of cigarettes and leather and that stupid cologne you bought him lingered in the cold air between you.

“You should probably get some sleep,” he said finally.

You glanced over at him. “You too.”

There was a moment of hesitation between you, then Eddie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, curls falling into his face.

“Listen, about tomorrow—”

“We’ll figure it out. Night,” you said quickly, opening your car door and closing it just as fast. 

“Night,” he muttered to himself, tapping the hood of your car once. 

The Upside Down always felt wrong immediately.

The air was thicker here. Wet, heavy with rot and ash and something metallic that clung to the back of your throat every time you breathed too deeply.

The sky stretched above the group in angry shades of red and black lightning, spores drifting lazily through the air like toxic snow, every step squelching beneath your boots.

“God,” Robin muttered, pulling the sleeves of Max’s sweatshirt farther over her hands. “I seriously forgot how much this place smells like a dead animal’s asshole.”

“That is… unbelievably specific,” Nancy replied.

“It’s accurate, though.”

Steve ignored them, flashlight tucked beneath his arm as he unfolded the rough map Jonathan had drawn the night before.

“Alright, listen up.” Everyone slowly gathered closer.

“The crawlspace splits about a mile ahead,” Steve continued. “We cover more ground if we break into pairs.”

“Cool,” Robin nodded. “Dibs on not dying.”

Steve pointed around the group. “Nancy, you’re with Johnathan. Robin, you’re with Dustin and me—” He paused briefly. “Eddie, you and...”

“No.”

The answer left your mouth immediately. Sharp enough that even the distant growls echoing through the Upside Down suddenly felt quieter. Eddie’s head turned toward you instantly.

Steve blinked. “What?”

“I said no.”

You adjusted the shotgun strap harsher than necessary across your shoulder before looking anywhere except Eddie.

“What about Nancy?” you asked. “I’ll go with her.”

Steve shook his head immediately. “Nope. Both sharpshooters can’t be together.”

“Robin then.”

“Also no,” he replied. “You and Robin both have El's blood scent on you. Two El's means a dead giveaway.”

You clenched your jaw. Of course, there was a reason for everything; of course, it made sense. But still...

“No,” you repeated more quietly this time.

Steve sighed heavily like a tired father of six. “Seriously?”

You finally looked at Eddie, and big mistake. Because he looked just as frustrated as you felt, maybe even a little more exhausted from the situation than you were.

“Jesus Christ,” Robin whispered under her breath. “They’re divorced.”

“We were never married,” you snapped instantly.

“Yet,” Dustin mumbled.

You whipped around. “Whatever. Come on, Dustin.”

The kid blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me.”

“Uh—”

“Dustin. Let’s go.”

Your voice cracked through the air hard enough that nearby spores trembled slightly as you shoved past the group toward the forest line. Dustin looked between you and Eddie like a hostage negotiator trying not to die.

Steve slowly lifted both hands. “Hey, Henderson?”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t argue with an angry girl holding a shotgun.”

Dustin nodded immediately. “Excellent point.”

“Seriously?” Eddie muttered.

Dustin pointed apologetically at himself before jogging after you. “Sorry, man! Self-preservation!”

Robin watched the two of you disappear into the foggy tree line before glancing sideways at Eddie. “…So how bad was the breakup exactly?”

Eddie stared after you quietly for a long moment. “Bad enough,” he said finally, “that she’d rather walk into monster-infested hell with a fifteen-year-old.”

The three of them moved carefully through the wreckage of downtown Hawkins, flashlights cutting through the thick haze drifting between abandoned cars and crumbling storefronts.

Somewhere in the distance, something screeched. Robin immediately tightened her grip on the flare gun in her hands.

“Mm. Hate that sound. Really hate that sound.”

“Pretty sure that’s the point,” Steve muttered from the front.

Store signs flickered weakly overhead, vines pulsing slowly up the sides of buildings like veins beneath skin.

Eddie barely noticed any of it. Because every few seconds, his eyes kept drifting back toward the tree line where you and Dustin had disappeared twenty minutes ago.

“You know,” she said casually, “if you stare any harder, I think you might actually burn a hole right through the fog.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Steve added. “It’s getting pathetic.”

“I’m literally just walking.”

“You basically broke your neck turning around five seconds ago.”

Eddie scoffed softly and adjusted the strap of the spear against his shoulder. “She’s fine.”

Steve hummed knowingly. “Uh huh.”

The group ducked beneath a collapsed power line before continuing down the street.

Robin glanced between the two boys. “Wait, hold on. I actually don’t know what happened between you two.”

Eddie groaned immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “We’re in hell dimension therapy hour. Spill.”

Eddie kept walking.

“Munson.”

“No.”

“Eddie.”

He sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “It was stupid.”

“That means it was definitely your fault,” Robin replied instantly.

“One-hundred percent,” Steve nodded.

Eddie shot both of them a glare before finally relenting. “Chrissy needed a ride home after a game one night.”

Robin blinked. “That’s it?”

“I didn’t tell her beforehand,” Eddie admitted.

Steve already looked exhausted. “Oh, my God.”

“I was going to!”

“But you didn’t,” Robin pointed out.

Eddie groaned louder. “Okay, yes, thank you, I gathered that much.”

Steve shoved aside a hanging vine as they entered the shell of an old grocery store. “So she saw you?”

“Yeah.”

Robin winced. “Oh, that’s brutal.”

“It wasn’t even like that,” Eddie argued quietly. “Chrissy was upset. Jason was being a dick. I just drove her home.”

“But from her perspective?” Steve replied. “Her boyfriend disappears for half the night with the prettiest girl in school.”

Eddie looked genuinely offended. “Why does everyone keep calling Chrissy the prettiest girl in school? That's not even half-accurate.”

Robin deadpanned. "Oh."

“You still love her,” Steve said it casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

Eddie kept his eyes ahead, flashlight shaking faintly in his grip. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Kinda does when you look one bad day away from throwing up every time she talks to another guy.”

Eddie let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well. She’s still pissed.”

Steve crawled up beside him slightly. “Did you ever actually apologize?”

“Shut up,” Eddie snapped, ears turning red beneath his curls.

Robin gasped dramatically. “Wait, wait, wait— is that why she’s so pissed? Because she thinks something happened with Chrissy?”

Eddie’s expression tightened slightly. Because yeah, that was part of it. But not all of it, not the real part.

The real part was that instead of fighting harder for you, instead of explaining, instead of chasing after you when you stormed away crying…He let you go.

And he’d regretted it every single day since.

Meanwhile, somewhere deeper in the woods of the Upside Down, you and Dustin trudged through layers of ash and rotting vines in tense silence. Well, mostly tense silence. Because Dustin physically could not stop talking if he tried.

“I’m just saying,” he continued carefully, trying to keep up with your pace, “from an outside perspective, I really don’t think Eddie cheated on you.”

You climbed over a fallen tree branch without looking at him. “Congratulations.”

“I’m serious!”

“Dustin.”

“No, because you weren’t there after, okay? He was literally miserable.”

You snorted softly. “Please.”

“I’m not kidding!” Dustin insisted. “The guy looked like someone kicked his puppy for, like… three months straight.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“He started listening to sad music.”

You glanced back at him dryly. “He already listens to sad music.”

“Okay, fair.”

Dustin ducked beneath a low-hanging vine before continuing. “But seriously, he didn’t do anything with Chrissy.”

You tightened your grip around the shotgun because it still stung hearing her name, even now. Especially now. Because logically? You knew Eddie probably hadn’t cheated. But emotionally, that night still replayed in your head perfectly.

Waiting for him, watching the clock, then seeing his van pull into the trailer park with Chrissy Cunningham in the passenger seat, laughing at something he said. And Eddie, sweet, oblivious, Eddie, looking happier with her than he had with you in weeks.

“You didn’t see them,” you muttered quietly.

Dustin sighed. “I saw him after.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“It should.”

You stopped walking suddenly, sending Dustin nearly crashing into your back.

“You know what the worst part was?” you asked, voice strangely calm.

The spores drifting through the air caught in your hair as you turned toward him.

“I would’ve understood if he just told me.”

Dustin’s expression softened slightly. “He always thought you were too good for him,” he admitted quietly.

That one hit harder than you expected, because yeah. You knew that already, too. Knew it every time Eddie got weird when boys looked at you too long. Every time he joked about you “slumming it” with him. Every time, he acted as if your love for him had an expiration date.

Your chest tightened unpleasantly, but before you could answer, something screeched in the distance. Both of you froze instantly.

Dustin’s face paled. “Uh…” Another screech, but closer this time. Wet. Animalistic.

You slowly lifted the shotgun. The woods around you suddenly felt very, very quiet. Then, movement, fast shadows darting between the trees. One. Two. Three—

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dustin whispered.

Demodogs, at least five of them. Their slick bodies slithered between the vines surrounding you both, snarling lowly as their flower-like mouths slowly opened.

You grabbed Dustin’s jacket instantly, shoving him backward. “Run.”

“You know what your problem is?” Steve asked as the three of them pushed through the hollow remains of Family Video.

Eddie sighed heavily. “Please enlighten me, Harrington.”

“You think if you screw something up once, that’s it.”

Robin nodded immediately. “Oh my God, yes. That’s exactly his problem.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You two done psychoanalyzing me?”

“No,” Steve replied simply.

They stepped over collapsed shelves, boots crunching through broken VHS tapes scattered across the floor. Outside, thunder rumbled through the red sky.

Steve adjusted the nail bat over his shoulder before glancing back at Eddie again. “So...did you ever actually apologize?”

Eddie’s jaw tightened. “…Not really.”

Robin looked horrified. “EDDIE.”

“What?” he defended instantly. “Things got heated!”

“She cried and dumped you, and you just let her walk away!” Robin whisper-yelled.

Eddie scrubbed both hands down his face in frustration. “I didn’t know what to say!”

Steve laughed dryly. “Well, there’s your first issue.”

“I figured if she wanted to talk to me, she would’ve.”

Robin stared at him for a long moment. “Men are genuinely stupid.”

Eddie ignored her. “She looked at me like she hated me.”

“Because she was hurt,” Robin shot back. “There’s a difference.”

Eddie went quiet at that, because deep down? He knew. Knew every sharp comment and glare from you over the last few months felt more like woundedness than hatred.

Steve slowed slightly, expression softening just a bit. “Dude.”

Eddie glanced over.

“When this is over…” Steve shrugged. “Just apologize.”

Robin pointed at him enthusiastically. “YES. Exactly. Thank you.”

“Like a real apology,” Steve continued. “Not one of your weird little jokes where you deflect halfway through.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You absolutely do that,” Robin replied.

Eddie opened his mouth to argue, but static suddenly exploded through Steve’s walkie. All three of them froze instantly. A burst of panicked breathing crackled through the speaker. Then:

“STEVE?!” Dustin, terrified.

Steve grabbed the walkie immediately. “Dustin? What happened?”

More static, heavy footsteps, and your voice somewhere in the background, shouting something muffled. Then Dustin again:

“There’s— Jesus Christ— there’s like FIVE OF THEM!” A deafening screech echoed through the radio.

Robin’s face went white instantly. “Oh, my God.”

“We’re headed east through the woods!” Dustin yelled breathlessly. “They’re right behind us!”

Steve already started moving. “Stay moving. We’re coming to you.”

The radio crackled violently. Then your voice cut through this time, sharp and panicked.

“Dustin RUN!”

Eddie’s stomach dropped instantly. A loud gunshot exploded through the walkie. Then another, then static.

Branches snapped violently beneath your boots as you and Dustin tore through the woods.

The Upside Down blurred around you in flashes of red lightning and black vines, spores whipping through the air every time you shoved past another rotting tree. Behind you, there was screeching.

“LEFT!” Dustin yelled breathlessly.

You grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking him sideways just as a Demodog launched from the trees where he’d been standing half a second before. It hit the ground hard with a wet snarl. You spun instantly:

BOOM!

The shotgun blast echoed through the forest, the flare shell exploding directly into the creature’s chest. Fire burst outward, orange flames illuminating the dark woods as the Demodog shrieked and convulsed on the ground.

“Holy shit!” Dustin yelled.

“No time!” you shouted back. “MOVE!”

The two of you sprinted again. Your lungs burned as another screech split the air, then another. Then three more answered.

Dustin looked back once and immediately paled. “Oh, that is SO many.”

Shapes darted through the fog behind you. Fast, crawling over trees and vines with horrifying speed. One leaped from the side, and you reacted instantly, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders and throwing him down as the creature flew over both your heads.

You hit the ground hard beside him. The Demodog spun immediately, flower-mouth peeling open with a shriek. Dustin scrambled backward, fumbling desperately inside his bag.

“SHIT! SHIT! SHIT—”

The creature lunged, and a Molotov cocktail smashed against its face, fire erupting instantly. The thing screamed horribly, thrashing against the dirt while Dustin stared wide-eyed at the flaming bottle in his hand.

“…That was awesome.”

“Dustin!”

“RIGHT. MOVING!”

You hauled him upright again just as another creature burst from the trees, then another, and another.

Your stomach dropped. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Because behind the Demodogs, towering above them in the fog…Demogorgons; at least two. Their massive silhouettes moved slowly through the trees, petals twitching open as they tracked the scent of blood soaking into the girls’ borrowed clothes.

“Okay,” Dustin said faintly. “I officially hate this plan.”

One of the Demodogs lunged. Boom. Another flare shell exploded through its jaw. The recoil nearly knocked your shoulder backward as you kept firing. One. Two. Three blasts. Fire illuminated snapping teeth and writhing vines while Dustin hurled another Molotov into the pack.

Glass shattered, and flames erupted across the forest floor. Still, more kept coming.

“Why are there SO MANY?!” Dustin yelled.

“I don’t know!”

A Demodog tackled you from the side before you could reload. You hit the ground hard enough to lose the shotgun entirely. The creature screeched directly in your face, claws slashing wildly as you shoved against its throat desperately, its teeth snapped inches from your face.

“GET OFF!”

You grabbed the knife from your belt and drove it upward into the creature’s neck. Black blood sprayed across your hands as the thing convulsed violently before collapsing on top of you. For one horrible second, you couldn’t breathe.

Then Dustin was there immediately, dragging the body off you. “COME ON!”

The trees ahead suddenly exploded with flashlight beams. Voices.

“THIS WAY!”

Steve. Robin. And then, your heart betrayed you instantly at the sound of his voice. He yelled for you, panicked and terrified; closer now. You turned toward the sound just as one of the Demogorgons burst through the trees.

“LOOK OUT!” Dustin screamed. You barely had time to move.

One massive claw swung forward, and white-hot pain exploded across your side. The force sent you flying backward violently into the dirt.

For a second, everything went silent. No sound. No air. Nothing.

Then warmth poured down your waist, and your hands instinctively grabbed at your sides. Blood, so much blood. Somewhere nearby, Dustin was screaming your name.

And across the clearing, Eddie stopped dead. Because you were on the ground, not moving.

“OH MY GOD—” Dustin’s voice cracked somewhere nearby as the others charged into the clearing.

Steve and Robin immediately started firing at the creatures still circling through the trees, gunshots and screeches echoing violently through the forest while flames spread across the ground from the broken Molotovs.

But Eddie? Eddie only saw you.

Blood soaked through your shirt in horrifying amounts, spilling between your fingers where you clutched desperately at your side. Your breathing came in sharp, uneven breaths against the dirt beneath you.

His stomach dropped so hard it physically hurt. “No no no no—”

He was beside you instantly, collapsing to his knees hard enough to draw blood. Your eyes fluttered toward him hazily, still conscious. Thank fucking God.

“Hey,” he breathed shakily. “Hey, stay with me, alright?”

You grimaced as another cough wracked through your body. Blood splattered across your chin, and Eddie visibly went pale.

“Jesus Christ,” Robin whispered somewhere behind him.

You sucked in a painful breath, immediately trying to push yourself upright. “I’m fine.”

Eddie stared at you in disbelief. “Are you insane?”

“I can still move.”

“You are literally coughing up blood!”

Another wet cough interrupted you immediately, like your body itself was trying to prove his point. You glared weakly at him afterward anyway.

“Don’t,” you rasped.

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

Eddie’s face crumpled for half a second before he could stop it. Like that.

Like he was terrified, like seeing you hurt was physically ripping him apart from the inside out.

The sounds of fighting still echoed around the clearing. Steve yelling. Gunshots. Demogorgons screeching somewhere deeper in the woods.

But Eddie barely registered any of it as he pressed, shaking hands harder against the wound in your side. Blood immediately soaked through to his palms.

“You need pressure on this,” he said quickly, voice uneven. “Can you hold this?”

“I can walk.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

“You got launched ten feet through the air!”

You tried to sit up again anyway, and immediately regretted it. Pain tore through your side hard enough that a broken sound escaped your throat before you could stop it.

Eddie caught you before you could fall back completely, one arm wrapping around your shoulders carefully.

“There she is,” he whispered shakily. “That’s the stubborn girl I know.”

You clenched your jaw hard, humiliated tears burning behind your eyes. Not now, you refused to cry right now.

“I’m not dying in front of you,” you muttered weakly.

Something about that sentence completely shattered whatever composure Eddie had left. His eyes went glossy instantly.

“Hey,” he said softly, almost pleading. “Hey, don’t talk like that.”

Another scream echoed through the woods. Steve suddenly appeared beside them, blood splattered across his bat. “We need to move. Now.”

“Can she walk?” Robin asked urgently.

You opened your mouth immediately. “Yes.”

“No,” Eddie answered at the exact same time.

“I said I can—”

The second you tried to move again, your entire body folded from the pain, and a horrible gasp tore from your chest. And Eddie finally snapped.

“Jesus Christ, would you stop trying to be tough for five seconds?!”

The clearing went quiet for a second, and even you looked startled. Eddie’s breathing shook violently as he stared down at you, terrified and furious and heartbroken all at once.

“Please.”

That one word hurt worse than the injury. Before you could argue again, Eddie slid one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back.

You instinctively grabbed onto his jacket as he lifted you carefully against his chest. Pain exploded through your side immediately, making you gasp sharply into his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispered quickly. “I know, sweetheart, I got you.”

Sweetheart, your eyes shut briefly at the nickname, because he hadn’t called you that in months.

Eddie adjusted his grip tighter around you before looking toward the others. “Move.”

Nancy’s house in the Upside Down looked even worse from the inside.

The wallpaper peeled in blackened strips from the walls, vines crawling through cracks in the ceiling while spores drifted lazily through the stale air. The entire place creaked softly around them as if it were breathing.

Steve slammed the front door shut behind them while Robin shoved an overturned bookshelf against it.

“Are they following us?” she asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered. “I don’t hear them.”

Eddie barely registered the conversation. The second they got inside, he lowered you carefully onto the couch and immediately dropped to his knees in front of you again. Your blood stained almost everything now.

The couch. His hands. Your shirt. The floor beneath your boots. It just kept coming.

“Okay,” Robin said quickly, trying to stay calm. “Okay, okay. Nancy keeps medical supplies upstairs, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded immediately. “Bathroom closet.”

The two of them disappeared upstairs instantly. Dustin crouched nearby, frantic fingers fumbling with his walkie.

“Nancy? Jonathan? Come in!” Static answered him.

Your breathing hitched painfully again, and Eddie’s head snapped back toward you immediately.

“Stay with me,” he whispered.

You leaned weakly against the couch cushions, face pale beneath the layer of grime and blood smeared across your skin. Every breath looked harder than the last. Still, you forced out a weak, sarcastic smile.

“Pretty sure… this ruins the mission.”

Eddie let out something halfway between a laugh and a broken sound. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Yeah, sweetheart, kinda.”

Your eyes flicked toward the blood covering his hands, then back to him. He looked terrified, like absolutely terrified.

And it hit you suddenly that Eddie Munson looked like he was watching the worst thing that had ever happened to him unfold in real time.

“You can stop looking at me like I’m dying,” you muttered weakly.

The second the words left your mouth, Eddie’s face crumpled completely. “No,” he whispered instantly. Your chest ached at the sound.

Eddie pressed both shaking hands harder against the wound in your side, trying desperately to slow the bleeding.

“You can hate me later,” he said shakily. “Just don’t leave me first.”

Something in your expression broke, because he sounded serious. His eyes glistened under the dim flickering light, curls stuck damply against his forehead, while blood soaked through his rings and sleeves.

And suddenly, all you could think about was Dustin’s voice earlier.

"He always thought you were too good for him."

Your vision blurred slightly. “Eddie…”

“Don’t,” he interrupted immediately, voice cracking. “Please don’t do the thing where people start talking all soft because they think they’re dying, okay? I can’t—”

His breath hitched sharply. Then…Oh. Oh God. Eddie was crying.

Not loud or dramatic, just silent tears slipping down his face while he tried desperately to keep pressure against your side.

You weakly grabbed at his wrist. Instantly, his other hand wrapped around yours.

“I’m here,” he whispered quickly. “I’m here.”

Upstairs, cabinets slammed open while Robin shouted something about peroxide. Dustin was still trying the walkies. But for a second, the rest of the world faded out entirely. It was just Eddie, holding your hand like letting go would kill you.

Your thumb brushed weakly across his knuckles.

“I don’t hate you,” you admitted quietly.

Eddie froze. His watery eyes snapped up to yours so fast it almost hurt to look at. “What?”

You swallowed painfully. “I tried to,” you whispered. “But I don’t.”

Eddie stared at you like the words physically knocked the air from his lungs. Then suddenly, the house went strangely quiet.

Dustin slowly lowered the walkie. “…Wait.”

Steve reappeared at the top of the stairs with Robin right behind him, carrying supplies.

“What?” Robin asked.

Dustin frowned toward the windows. “Do you guys hear that?”

Everyone went still, and there was nothing. No screeching. No snarling. No pounding footsteps outside. The Demodogs were gone.

Steve moved cautiously toward the window, peeling back the curtain slightly. “…Holy shit.”

“What?” Eddie snapped immediately without taking his eyes off you.

Steve looked back slowly. “They stopped.”

Robin blinked. “Stopped what?”

“Following us.”

Everyone went quiet, then Dustin’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

Robin looked at him. “‘Oh shit’, what?”

Dustin pointed toward you carefully. “The blood.”

Eddie frowned slightly, and then realization hit all at once. The creatures weren’t tracking El’s scent anymore, not Max’s either. Your blood threw them back to tracking the real deal. 

“Oh, that is dark,” Robin muttered quietly.

Steve looked back out the window one more time before letting the curtain fall shut again. “Doesn’t matter. We still gotta move.”

Eddie’s head snapped up immediately. “She can’t move.”

As if on cue, another painful cough tore through your chest. Blood stained the corner of your mouth again, and Eddie visibly flinched.

Robin quickly knelt beside the couch with the medical supplies, hands moving fast as she peeled back the blood-soaked fabric around your side.

“…Oh.”

Steve’s face tightened instantly. “Bad?”

Robin looked a little pale now, too. “Very.”

You glanced downward weakly. Honestly, you kinda wished you hadn’t.

The slash across your side was deep, way deeper than you originally thought. Blackened blood smeared across torn skin while the edges of the wound pulsed faintly with Upside Down spores and grime.

Robin pressed fresh gauze against it carefully, and you hissed sharply through your teeth.

“Sorry,” she muttered quickly.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Eddie said immediately, everyone turning to look at him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, one hand locked tightly around yours like he physically couldn’t let go. And somehow he still looked angry at himself, like this was his fault too.

Steve crouched beside Dustin near the walkie.

“We need everyone back here. Now.”

Dustin nodded immediately, adjusting the frequency with shaky hands. “Nancy, Jonathan, Mike— anybody copy?”

Static crackled loudly, then Jonathan’s voice finally pushed through.

“Dustin?”

“Get back to Wheeler’s house now,” Steve ordered quickly. “We have a situation.”

“What happened?”

Steve hesitated briefly, but Eddie didn’t. “She’s hurt.”

Jonathan swore immediately. “How bad?”

Nobody answered fast enough, and that was answer enough. Dustin swallowed hard before grabbing the walkie again. “Guys, seriously, we need everyone here now.”

Robin kept trying to wrap the wound tighter, but every fresh layer of bandages turned red almost instantly. Steve’s expression shifted subtly from worried to straight-up scared.

“Hey,” he said carefully, crouching closer to you now. “Stay with us, okay?”

You let out a weak laugh. “Everybody keeps saying that.”

“Because you look like shit,” Robin replied automatically.

“Robin,” Steve hissed.

“What? I’m motivating her.”

Your eyelids suddenly felt heavy, and your head tipped slightly against the couch cushions.

Instantly, Eddie tightened his grip on your hand. “Hey.”

“I’m awake.”

“No sleeping.”

“I’m literally just resting my eyes.”

“Absolutely not.”

You would’ve laughed if breathing didn’t hurt so badly. Robin exchanged a quick glance with Steve. Then, he stood abruptly.

“We’re getting out of here.”

Eddie looked up sharply. “What?”

“She needs a hospital.”

“In the real world,” Robin added quickly. “Like yesterday.”

Steve nodded toward the ceiling. “Nearest gate’s at the trailer park. We move fast, we can make it.”

“And if the Demogorgons come back?” Dustin asked nervously.

Steve tightened his grip around the nail bat. “Then we fight.”

Eddie looked back down at you again. You looked exhausted now; blood loss had drained almost all the color from your face.

“Okay,” he whispered shakily. “Okay, we’re moving.”

Then softer, mostly to himself as he brushed blood-matted hair carefully from your face, “You’re not dying here.”

The trip back to the trailer park was brutal; every movement hurt. Every step Eddie took with you in his arms jolted painfully through your side, forcing weak gasps from your throat, no matter how hard you tried to hide them.

“You still with me?” he asked quietly after a while.

You hummed weakly against his shoulder.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“…Unfortunately.”

That earned the tiniest huff of laughter from him. Good. You liked hearing him laugh, even now.

Especially now.

The trailer park gates finally came into view ahead through the fog, and relief instantly loosened the group.

“We’re close,” Steve called quietly. “Gate’s right up—”

A screech exploded overhead, and everyone froze. Eddie’s entire body locked up beneath you instantly. Because he knew that sound, all too well. Demobats.

Robin looked upward first. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The sky above them suddenly erupted with movement. Dark shapes poured through the red clouds in violent shrieking swarms. Dozens, maybe more.

“No, no, no,” Dustin whispered.

Eddie visibly went pale; you could feel it immediately. The way his arms tightened around you, the way his breathing changed to sharp, uneven, panicked. Because last time, these things nearly killed him.

“MOVE!” Steve shouted.

The swarm dove all at once, and chaos erupted instantly. Robin started firing upward while Steve swung the bat wildly at the creatures swooping down around them. Dustin hurled another Molotov skyward, flames bursting violently across the dark sky.

Still, more kept coming. One of the bats shrieked directly beside Eddie’s head. He ducked sharply, nearly dropping you. Another latched briefly onto his jacket, and suddenly he wasn’t here anymore, not fully.

Your stomach twisted painfully as you watched it happen in real time. The fear. The memory. His eyes looked exactly like they had that night in the Upside Down trailer. Terrified. Overwhelmed.

A bat swooped downward fast. 

“EDDIE!” you shouted weakly. Too late.

The creature slammed directly into him, and the impact knocked both of you sideways violently, causing you to slip from his grasp. Pain exploded through your body as you hit the ground hard, tumbling through ash and dead vines.

Your vision blurred immediately, and everything spun. For one horrible second, you almost blacked out. Then you heard Eddie release an agonizing scream. Your head snapped upward weakly.

The bats swarmed him instantly, exactly like before. Clawing. Shrieking. Dragging him toward the ground while Steve and Robin tried desperately to fight them off. And suddenly, you weren’t in the present Upside Down anymore. You were back there, watching Eddie nearly die.

Watching him bleed out while everyone screamed. Watching his body go limp in your arms. No, absolutely fucking not.

Adrenaline slammed through your body so violently it almost made you nauseous.

You forced yourself upward with a broken gasp, fingers scrambling desperately through the dirt until they found the shotgun lying nearby. Your side screamed in protest, but it didn’t matter. You cocked the gun shakily.

One of the bats wrapped around Eddie’s throat while another clawed at his back. His eyes met yours across the chaos, terrified. And that? That did it.

BOOM

The flare shell exploded directly into the swarm, and fire erupted violently across the sky. Shrieking filled the air as the Demo-bats ignited all at once, peeling away from Eddie in flaming screeches. Another shot, then another.

Explosions of orange fire illuminated the dark woods around you while burning creatures dropped from the sky one after another.

Steve grabbed Eddie immediately, hauling him backward. “MOVE MOVE MOVE!”

Robin ran toward you instantly. “Jesus Christ!”

Your arms finally gave out. The shotgun slipped from your fingers as the adrenaline vanished just as quickly as it came. Everything tilted sideways, and Eddie reached you before you hit the ground again.

His hands grabbed your face carefully. “Hey,” he breathed frantically. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”

Your vision blurred around the edges, but you still managed the weakest smile.

“Told you,” you whispered faintly. “Not letting you die.” Eddie looked absolutely wrecked by that sentence.

The first thing you noticed was the beeping, soft and steady. Then the smell of antiseptic hit next, clean hospital air replacing the rot and ash of the Upside Down.

Your body felt heavy and warm, and pain throbbed dully through your side the second you tried to move.

A small sound escaped your throat before you could stop it. Immediately, a chair scraped harshly beside you.

“Hey.”

Your eyes blinked open slowly. Hospital room. Dim lighting. And Eddie, kneeling beside your bed so fast it almost looked like he hadn’t moved in hours. Because honestly? He probably hadn’t.

His curls were a mess, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes, while dried scratches still marked his neck and jaw from the bats. One of his hands clutched yours tightly enough to hurt a little.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed shakily.

Your throat felt raw. “You look terrible.”

A watery laugh escaped him instantly. “Thanks.”

You smiled weakly. Eddie immediately leaned forward in the chair, still gripping your hand like he thought you might disappear if he let go.

“You scared the absolute shit out of me,” he admitted quietly.

“How long was I out?”

“Day and a half.”

Your eyebrows lifted weakly. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“Wow. Kinda dramatic of me.”

Eddie let out another broken laugh, but this one dissolved quickly. You glanced down at your intertwined hands, noticing how he still hadn’t let go.

“…You stayed?”

Eddie looked almost offended. “Obviously, I stayed.”

Something warm twisted painfully in your chest. You swallowed carefully. “The others okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded quickly. “Everyone’s okay. Couple scratches, Henderson won’t stop bragging about his Molotovs, Robin cried for like twenty minutes after you passed out—”

“Robin cried?”

“She threatened Steve when he laughed about it, too.”

That earned a small laugh out of you. God, he’d missed that sound.

Eddie stared at you for a second too long afterward, like he was making sure you were real, and alive.

His expression slowly crumbled again. “Listen,” he started quietly.

You already knew from his tone that this was gonna hurt. Eddie rubbed shakily at his eyes with his free hand before looking back at you.

“I am so sorry.”

Your chest tightened immediately.

“I should’ve told you about Chrissy,” he continued, voice uneven now. “I should’ve explained, and I should’ve come after you that night instead of letting you walk away.”

Tears burned visibly in his eyes again. “But honestly?” He laughed weakly at himself. “I think I was just waiting for you to realize you were too good for me.”

Your face softened instantly. “Eddie—”

“No, let me say it.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because I need you to know.”

His thumb brushed carefully across your knuckles.

“You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” he whispered shakily. “Like… stupid beautiful. And smart, and funny, and everybody loves you, and I just kept thinking eventually you’d wake up and realize you didn’t wanna be stuck with some freak in a trailer forever.”

Your eyes immediately stung.

“And then when you saw me with Chrissy…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Part of me almost figured maybe this was it. Like maybe I finally ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Silence filled the room softly. Then finally, “You idiot.”

Eddie blinked, and you squeezed his hand weakly. “I never cared about any of that.”

His face crumpled all over again. “I know that now,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry too.”

Eddie frowned immediately. “For what?”

“I should’ve listened.”

“No, sweetheart—”

“I was hurt,” you admitted softly. “But I think part of me already knew you didn’t cheat.”

Eddie’s eyes went glossy again instantly.

You sighed weakly. “You’re too obsessed with me to cheat on me.”

That startled a laugh out of him so suddenly he actually snorted. 

“Well, yeah,” he whispered again.

You smiled faintly. Then after a small pause, “So…” you murmured. “What now?”

Eddie looked at you carefully, like he was scared to answer wrong.

Then slowly, he brought your hand carefully to his lips and pressed the softest kiss against your knuckles.

“Whatever you want,” he whispered.

Your heart melted a little. “…I think,” you admitted quietly, “I’d like my boyfriend back.”

Eddie actually stopped breathing. “You mean that?”

You nodded once, and that was all it took.

Eddie surged forward carefully, terrified of hurting you, one hand cradling your face while he kissed you like he’d been dying to do it for months.

Soft at first, shaky. Then emotional enough that you felt tears hit your cheeks before realizing they were his. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered immediately. “Like, embarrassingly bad.”

You laughed softly. “I love you too, you idiot.”

Neither of you noticed the door cracking open. At least, not until:

“Oh, thank fucking God.”

You both startled apart immediately. Robin stood frozen in the doorway holding two vending machine coffees and an open bag of chips, staring at the two of you with pure exhausted relief on her face.

Behind her, Steve physically sagged against the doorframe.

“FINALLY,” he groaned dramatically. “Jesus Christ.”

Your face burned hot instantly while Eddie still hovered halfway over you, one hand on your waist. Robin pointed between the two of you accusingly. “Do you understand how insufferable you both have been?”

“Robin—” Eddie started.

“No. No, I’m serious.” She walked fully into the room now, setting the coffees down aggressively on the bedside table. “The sexual tension alone almost killed me before the interdimensional monsters even got the chance.”

Eddie groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Can we have like… one emotional moment? Alone?”

“No,” Steve answered immediately.

Robin nodded. “Absolutely not.”

Then her expression softened slightly as she looked toward you lying in the hospital bed. “You scared the hell out of us, by the way.”

Your smile faded a little. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Steve said quickly, pushing off the doorway. “Just stop getting mauled by alternate dimension creatures. It’s becoming a weird habit in this group.”

“You first,” you shot back weakly.

Robin’s eyes flicked back and forth between you and Eddie again before narrowing suspiciously.

“So…” she dragged out slowly. “Are we all emotionally repaired now or what?”

Eddie looked toward you, and you smiled faintly before intertwining your fingers with his again.

Robin gasped dramatically. “OH, my GOD.”

Steve pointed immediately. “I knew it.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now, actually...no. More like beaming at the fact that your fingers were laced with his. 

THE END :D

hope you all enjoyed! <33

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Your pointer finger lazily traces the rim of the drink you’re finally nursing after your friends convinced you to slow down, and your mind reflects back on what pushed you to go out in the first place.

Gator had stopped by your place during his break on the night shift, greeting you eagerly when you opened the door for him.

He’d taken a longer break than normal - allowing himself to sit on the couch with you propped up in his lap. Your knees sunk into the plush of the cushions on either side of his hips, hands planted on his chest - delicately brushing the exposed skin by the collar of his shirt.

His arms were looped around you, hands intertwined at the base of your back, smirking at you when he’d cup the curve of your ass - trying to cop a feel despite the fact that he doesn’t have that much time.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Alligator,” you whispered breathily by the shell of his ear.

Gator groans in frustration, “Then stop teasin’ me baby.”

It makes you shift your hips, pressing more firmly against him, and he lets out a strangled noise of pleasure at the contact.

“Gotta stop, or else Roy will cut my dick off if ‘m late again cause of you,” he chokes out, and it makes you giggle at his dramatics.

One of his hands trails up your back, before he brings it around to gently grasp your chin between his fingers - forcing you to look at him, “Don’t you laugh at me, you know how pissed he was last time.”

His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, and you open your mouth to playfully bite down on it, making his eyes blow wide.

“C’mon baby girl, don’t do this to me,” he practically begs.

You sigh loudly, pretending to think about it, “Hmm, I guess since you asked so nicely.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes without any ill intent, before going quiet - taking you in. The lapse of talking allows you to remember the phone call you’d gotten before he showed up at your door - the one you were hesitant to tell him about.

“Somethin’ on your mind, baby girl?” He questions, genuine interest lacing his tone.

The way he’s looking at you, softly, almost as if he were memorizing your features - like he’s storing them somewhere in the depths of his mind and it allows you to make your decision.

“I was thinking,” you start, breaking off when he ducks his head to nip at the base of your throat.

“Usually leads to trouble,” he teases, sucking lightly at the now tender skin - knowing it’ll leave a possessive mark.

Your fingers play with the tendrils of hair poking out from the back of his hat and you work up the courage to finally just ask.

“My parents are coming to visit soon, and they wanna meet you,” you admit.

Gator goes rigid under you, mouth and hands stopping their wandering, and he pulls away to look at you with disbelief clouding his eyes.

“Why? It ain’t like wer’ together or somethin’ like that,” he grumbled, displeased at the idea.

The words stir something ugly under your ribs, disappointment at his continued insistence to not make anything official between the two of you.

That was the problem with a man like Gator - wanted to keep you around for all the benefits, but didn't want to label it so he could get out of the responsibility that came with being in a relationship.

It was giving you whiplash - experiencing how affectionate he could be while being so mean at the same time.

You were tired of it and decided to call him out on his bullshit, “Are you seeing other girls, Gator?”

He pauses, lips parting briefly before closing again, and it makes your stomach roll uneasily because you didn't think he was actually seeing other girls.

You start to pull away, but he frantically grabs at you, keeping you securely in his hold, “No, ‘m not seeing anybody else, promise.”

“Then what are we doing?” You gesture between the two of you.

Gator’s thumb comes up to smooth out the crease that your eyebrows have created, “We’re havin’ fun.”

“What if I want more than just fun?” You ask tentatively.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Then we should probably stop foolin’ around.”

His indifference is gut wrenching, but it’s nothing new - been let down before by him and his lack of commitment.

“You really don’t have any deeper feelings for me than that?” You ask him resolutely.

You can almost see the internal battle happening in that tortured brain of his - the one where his daddy is yelling at him for letting a girl make him soft, and the other one that’s whispering to him to let you in.

Gator’s teeth clenched tight, and you know his answer will hurt when his face pinches as if he’s annoyed, "Thought you knew what this was.”

“Guess I was stupid enough to think otherwise,” you mumble, and he doesn’t fight you this time when you force yourself off of him.

“Baby girl, don’t be like that,” he tries weakly.

“It’s fine, but you should be heading out now, Gator. You’ve got work to get back to and obviously we should stop ‘foolin’ around’ since I want you for more than just sex,” you bite out, tone harsher than you meant for it to be.

He breathes out harshly through his nose, “Didn’t mean it that way.”

“Whatever, Gator. I don’t care. Just go, please,” you fold your arms, retreating into your shell shamefully at his dismissive behavior.

A muscle in his jaw twitches like he wants to talk it out, but he glances at the watch on his wrist and realizes he needs to go.

“Can I still come over later?” He asks a little desperately.

“I don’t see the point. Goodnight, Gator,” you tell him stiffly, shutting the door behind him - locking it loudly so he gets the hint.

When you texted the group chat to vent about the awful exchange, your friends persuaded you to meet them for drinks to lift your spirits.

It didn’t help - instead, it made you feel worse at seeing the couple in the booth you considered yours and Gator’s when you came to the place together - had you remembering when he sneakily trailed his hand under your skirt one time - made you nearly pass out from the blissful feeling he was giving you in a public setting.

You just couldn’t get him off your mind - head spinning, wondering what you could’ve done to make him want you more.

You encouraged your friends to go play pool when a few guys from out of town came up to your group to flirt around, but you stayed behind at the bar - feet kicking the air sadly as you sat on the stool.

Suddenly, a hand slithers around your waist - making you freeze.

It’s a man from the group that came up to your friends, whose eyes had been lingering on you - making you nervous, because that look wasn’t interest. It was entitlement, like you owed him something he deserved.

“Please don’t touch me,” you try being polite, hoping he’ll listen the first time - which is pointless. If anything, his fingers dig into your skin uncomfortably harder.

“You’re just so pretty, dollface, can’t help myself,” he shares huskily, tilting his head, breath littered with traces of liquor - trying to get you to look at him.

Your heart starts hammering loudly, and there’s a shift in energy at the bar as people start to take notice of the man’s hands on you - because while Gator may not lay claim to being your boyfriend, everyone certainly knew not to mess with his girl.

The bartender knows it too, “Hey man, she asked you to take your hands off. I would listen if I were you.”

The man barks out a laugh of irritation, “Ain’t the boss of me. I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

His hold on you is borderline painful at this point, and you're overwhelmed by the rush of signal firings of fight or flight taking over your body.

“Get off of me,” you command, squirming to break free.

“Don’t need to be such a priss about it, baby,” the guy sneers at you, refusing to let go. The pet name is revolting coming from anyone else but Gator, let alone a random guy trying to feel you up.

You’re nearly hyperventilating at his insistence - panicking about the fact that everyone else is either too drunk to notice or intervene.

Little did you know that the bartender had already reached out to the station - had been paid off by the Tillmans to keep an eye on you. The call came across the radio system in Gator’s deputy truck - who was already parked outside the bar - has been for an hour now. He’d been weighing the options on how you’d react if he showed up inside, but the call instantly made the choice for him.

Gator doesn’t need to storm in - his presence alone commands the attention of the room, eyes following his slow footsteps as he treks his way across the room to you. He can’t help the instant flood of pride that washes over him when he watches you throw the remains of your drink at the sleazy guy dangling off of you.

The guy rears back, jumping up from his seat, “What the fuck!”

Gator’s nearly at your side by now, and he smoothly slides in front of you, arm coming out to block the guy from trying to get to you.

“Gonna need yah to back off man,” Gator warns.

You startle at his appearance - would have been less than thrilled to see him earlier, but now you’re immensely grateful he’s shown up.

“Listen prick, this bitch-,” the man starts, and it’s all it takes for Gator to snap.

He grabs two fistfulls of the guys shirt, shoving him hard into the ledge of the counter top and gets real close to his face - murderous look behind those pretty eyes of his.

“I said, back, the fuck, off,” Gator pushes hard at the man’s chest, enunciating each word viciously.

The guy finally quiets at the threat, but his eyes narrow into slits, sizing Gator up like he’s determining if he could take him or not.

“C’mon baby girl, let’s go,” he leisurely lets go of the man, slipping an arm around your shoulders - guiding you towards the front door.

Gator’s almost steered you to the exit when you’re caught off guard by a rough tug at your arm, and a whimper leaves your lips at the sharp sting of the asshole’s nails cutting into your wrist when you rip yourself away from him.

The sound of you in pain makes Gator’s face twist in rage, and he whistles a signal to one of Roy's ranch hands who’s been cautiously watching from the entrance - worry pools in your gut because you know that means Gator’s about to beat the ever living shit out of the guy.

“Wait, Gate, it’s okay,” you say calmly, trying to talk him down from the dumb decision he’s about to make.

His eyes flick down to your wrist that you’re cradling, “Yer bleeding. Like hell it’s okay.”

The ranch hand stands beside you, and Gator gives a quick demand, “Get her in the car.”

“Gator,” you plead, but he’s already got his back to you.

You catch the first swing of his fist - cracking against the guy’s nose easily, but the ranch hand moves you out into the cool evening air before you can watch the rest of the brewing fight.

The car ride back to your house was silent. You probably couldn’t speak even if you wanted to with the way the bile was climbing up your throat at seeing Gator’s knuckles swollen and bleeding. The only other evidence of his brawl was a large bruise blooming on the underside of his jaw - must’ve been the only underhook throw the guy got on him.

You were livid at him - not only had he left you in broken pieces earlier in the day, but he threw himself into a fight that wasn’t needed and could've seriously gotten hurt.

Despite the fact, you had him sitting on your bathroom sink while you cleaned up his raw fingers - layer of skin missing from how hard he’d been swinging.

You were standing between his parted thighs, far too close for comfort after the devastating words he’d uttered just hours ago, and you could feel his breath fanning across your skin - leaving behind a traitorous trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“God, you drive me crazy, Gator Tillman,” you tell him when you’re done, throwing the dirty cloth you used into the laundry basket.

“That a good thing or bad thing?” He teases, grinning wildly at you.

“Bad, definitely bad,” you roll your eyes, stepping back - but Gator refuses to let you leave him, hands snatching out to grasp at your waist, delicately dragging you back to him.

“Excuse me for wantin’ to defend yer honor,” he chides, raising his eyebrows.

“If we ‘ain’t in a relationship’,” you mock, using his own words, “then how come you felt the need to do so?”

“Cause he was a jackass,” he splutters.

You shake your head, “Not good enough of a reason.”

“Woulda done if for anyone,” he mumbles, blatantly lying.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhausted from his stubbornness, “Oh my god, just be honest with me for once, Gator.”

“Fine, dammit, because yer mine. Got that? Mine. And nobody lays hands on my baby girl,” he seethes, jealously flaring like hot coals in his chest.

You reach up to cup his jaw in your hands, sweetly brushing over the bruise, and he closes his eyes in content at the touch.

You stand on your tip toes to get close, press a soft kiss to the tender skin and whisper, “Was that really so hard to admit, Alligator?”

He swallows thickly, eyes fluttering back open to look at you with desire, “Didn’t label it because I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“You won’t, not if you just try for me,” you promise, nudging your nose against his - a silent request for him to kiss you.

He grants your wish, strong arms tracing the length of your torso, hand coming up to cradle the back of your head - gauze wrapped fingers tangling with the tendrils of your hair.

You press yourself eagerly against him, lips slotting with his like second nature. You’re not sure how much time passes as you bask in each other before finding yourselves intertwined beneath the bedsheets, under the glow of the moonlight shadowing your room.

His heavy work boots thudded onto the polished concrete floor as he stepped further into the shop, his fingers twitching to start digging through it all.

“Just holler if you need help,” a disinterested voice said from behind the register.

Eddie pulled his eyes away from crate labelled limited eds. just briefly but redirected them back onto the Danish pressing of Melissa his fingers had stalled on when he didn’t actually see anyone behind the register.

Not that he really minded anyway – his brain already short-circuiting over the surprisingly doable price tag stuck in the upper right corner.

Honestly, he was somewhat relieved whoever was behind the register didn’t seem to be one of those pushy salesmen who hovered around customers like it was their fist time stepping into a record store. He preferred being left alone with the crates in front of him – especially considering he was acting like a fucking teenager every time his eyes landed on something he could add to his already ridiculous collection.

Something unfamiliar drifted through the speakers overhead, low and moody enough to catch his attention. Good enough, too, that he made a mental note to ask whoever was behind the register what artist it was.

By the time the soft streaks of sunshine had faded into a dusky blue evening, he’d already piled an embarrassing amount of records on top of one of the crates, and was now trying to convince himself not to go digging through the rack of vintage tees too.

He walked to the rack without really thinking it through. He was already spending more than he should’ve anyway — might as well indulge a little more.

The thin, high-pitched scrape of metal against metal made him scrunch his nose as his ringed, calloused fingers pushed through the hangers, eyes scanning every faded design he flipped past.

The annoying scrape of metal faded abruptly when his fingers stalled on a pristine shirt that was, unfortunately, just a little outside his budget.

"The price is ridiculous, I know," the voice behind the counter mumbled, followed by the faint sound of movement. "But it's an original from '81."

Eddie looked over his shoulder just enough to show he was listening before his attention drifted back to the shirt in his hands.

“Took my dad forever to get that one,” you added absentmindedly.

That finally dragged Eddie’s attention away from the shirt in his hands, his brows already furrowing before he’d even fully turned around.

His dark brown eyes finally landed on you behind the register, your chin propped against your palm while you drummed a pen absentmindedly to the song playing overhead.

You couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.

Which, considering the shirt in his hands was older than you were, probably explained the comment about your dad.

“Maiden fan?” he asked, eyes flickering between you and the shirt he still held.

You deadpanned, tilting your head slightly.

“2 AM.”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows again. “What?”

“You were about to make me name an Iron Maiden song that isn’t Fear of the Dark or The Trooper,” you said flatly, like this was far from the first time you’d had this exact conversation. “So, 2 AM. From their 1995 album The X Factor.”

Eddie stilled, blinking at you a couple times like he genuinely hadn’t expected that answer to come out of your mouth.

“I, uh… wasn’t gonna ask that,” he mumbled, his brows still faintly furrowed. “But, 2 AM, seriously? That’s a depressive pull.”

You scoffed lightly, the corner of your mouth already twitching upward.

“Yeah, well. I like the depressive stuff.”

You still had your chin propped in your hand as your eyes drifted slowly over him, taking in the curls that had escaped his messy bun, and the way his ringed fingers twitched against the preserved cotton.

But the nervous blinking was what really got you, which felt somewhat ridiculous, considering he was, what? In his late thirties, early forties?

Cute.

Eddie recovered – just slightly – from being caught off guard by the blatant way you’d checked him out, enough to squint at you jokingly.

“Alright, smartass. What’s your favourite Dio album?”

You squinted back, pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

“Dio the band, or the man himself?” you murmured, slowly pushing yourself off the counter to stand a little straighter. “‘Cause I got different answers depending on what you wanna know.”

“Hit me.” He raised his brows, giving a small nod.

Dragging your gaze down for a split second, you pretended to think about it.

“How about I tell you over a drink?”

Eddie scoffed softly in disbelief, shaking his head as he dragged his eyes away from you for a second before looking back.

“Are you even old enough to get a drink?”

“I asked you out,” you shot back, “not if you could buy me a bottle while I wait around the corner.”

He didn’t say anything right away; instead, he let his eyes linger for a moment longer, noticing the soft way the warm amber lights overhead spread across your face.

He also pretended the tips of his ears didn’t heat up at the fact that someone this young was so blatantly flirting with someone nearly twice her age.

“You flirt like a menace, y’know that?”

The corner of your mouth twitched before you smiled bashfully, some of your earlier confidence slipping for just a second before you pulled it back together.

“Just with people who have good taste in music.”

By the time the bartender slid your drinks onto the table, Eddie still wasn’t sure how a twenty-something-year-old had managed to talk him into this.

You crossed your legs beneath the table as you gently pushed his neat whiskey closer to him before curling your hand around your beer.

His eyes lingered briefly on your chipped black nail polish before traveling up to the heavy silver rings wrapped around your fingers, ultimately settling on your face.

The dim lighting made you look softer than you had back at the record shop, casting a different kind of glow across your eyes.

“You always ask strange men out after arguing about Iron Maiden?” he asked as he mirrored you, curling his hand around his own glass.

“Not really,” you smiled softly, noticeably shyer than you’d been up until now. “Don’t know how you made the cut.”

Eddie looked away for a moment, biting lightly at his lip as he nodded absentmindedly, a strange self-conscious feeling slowly settling in the pit of his stomach.

It had been… a while since someone had asked him out. Not to mention someone nearly half his age – which was definitely a first.

“Holy Diver’s the obvious answer,” you started slowly after taking a sip of your beer. “But Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow kinda ruined my life.”

A small, disbelieving smile found its way onto Eddie’s lips.

“If Rainbow counts,” you added quickly.

“Rainbow absolutely counts,” he chuckled, raising a brow as his gaze dropped briefly to your hand, catching the faint nicotine stain between two fingers. “Lemme guess – Catch the Rainbow.”

“Look at you,” you laughed softly before wetting your lips. “You already know me so well.”

Your eyes sparkled a little too brightly beneath the dim bar lights, soft shadows settling across your face.

And suddenly, Eddie didn’t feel quite so self-conscious anymore. Not with the way you were looking at him.

“You wanna smoke?”

“Can you lose one?” you asked hesitantly before scrunching your nose. “Just ran out, and I couldn’t exactly leave the store to buy more.”

“For you? Always.”

The intimate words slipped from his mouth before he could think them through; strangely enough, though, they didn’t feel weird on his tongue.

Eddie stood first, reaching for your class before you could while you slid out of the booth beside him.

The low hum of conversations and clinking glasses faded into the background as the two of you made your way through the crowded bar, shoulders brushing once when someone stumbled past with an overly loud laugh and an apology neither one of you really paid attention to.

The soft evening breeze hit Eddie’s face the second he pushed the door open with his foot, carrying the faint smell of city streets and beer spilled somewhere along the sidewalk outside.

Most of the patio tables sat empty at this hour despite the lingering warmth of the evening, leaving the two of you to settle at one tucked near the railing beneath the weak amber glow of an overhead streetlamp.

He slid your sweating glass of beer back towards you before reaching for the slightly crumpled pack of Camels in the front pocket of his jeans. He lifted a cigarette to his lips before he pulled out another one and held it out for you.

The lighter followed almost immediately – silver and worn, in the kind of way that made it obvious he’d had it for years.

Eddie flicked it open with easy precision, lighting it and tilting it closer to you.

You slid your glass to the side and placed your hands at the edge of the seat, fingers curling around the cool wood as you leaned forward just slightly with the cigarette already between your lips. The flame reflected warmly in your eyes while you looked up at him from under your lashes before he absentmindedly brought it to his own cigarette, quietly noticing the subtle arch in your posture as you leaned closer.

He took a long, slow drag and let the smoke curl in his lungs for a moment, while he took in the sight in front of him – the way your lips closed around the brown filter, your little habit of actually swallowing down the smoke before you blew it out, the way you still hadn’t looked away from him.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbled under his breath, almost like he wasn’t actually aware he was saying it out loud.

A shy smile crept across your face as you finally broke eye contact – but only for a split second.

“You flirt like an old man,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, well, Sweetheart,” Eddie scoffed jokingly. “That’s kinda what happens when you ask out someone who’s twice your age.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Just six little words were enough to make his stomach twist in a way he wasn’t used to anymore – especially with the knowing smile you gave him afterward.

He knew the smart thing would be to pull away. Change the subject. Steer the conversation towards something safer than this quiet little push and the pull the two of you had slipped into.

But instead, he stayed exactly where he was, fingers curled loosely around his cigarette as his gaze followed the slow lift of your beer to your lips.

A stray drop of beer escaped from the corner of your mouth, threatening to trail down your chin before Eddie reached over and caught it with his thumb before it had the chance.

The look he gave you as he dragged his tongue across his thumb was enough to make it painfully obvious he’d done it on purpose.

Eddie watched your throat move when you swallowed.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you mumbled quietly, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want something.”

His cigarette rested forgotten between his fingers as the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, “I think we’re a little past that already.”

Your gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before flicking back up again, subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t have caught it – but Eddie did.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he leaned back in his chair, cigarette balanced loosely between his fingers while he watched you through the thin curls of smoke.

“Careful,” he murmured, finally tapping ash from his cigarette while his eyes stayed fixed on you. “Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m gonna forget how old you are.”

“Good.” You held the smoke in your lungs for a second before exhaling slowly, teeth catching your bottom lip out of habit more than anything else. “‘Cause I already forgot yours.”

Eddie’s hand barely softened the force of your back hitting the brick wall he’d pushed you against, the heavy rings on his fingers catching against your scalp as he buried his hand in your hair and pulled.

This close, it was impossible not to notice the scent of motor oil clinging to him beneath the minty cologne, and the cigarette smoke.

And fuck, that alone was enough to ruin you a little.

His other hand found your face, thumb pressing into your cheek while the rest of his fingers spread against the other as he tilted your head and deepened the kiss.

Eddie nudged your mouth open with his, brushing his tongue against your bottom lip first – almost hesitant, like some part of him still wasn’t fully sure he should be doing this. But then he kissed you harder, and his tongue slid against yours, warm and slick, and you could still taste the lingering bite of spicy citrus of his whiskey on him.

“Please tell me you live nearby,” he murmured against your lips when he finally pulled back just slightly.

“Above the shop,” you mumbled back, voice low and still a little drunk on his kiss.

Eddie still had a tight grip on your hair and jaw when he pulled away a little more, pupils blown wide, lips slick with your spit, and his greying curls even messier than they’d been all evening.

He could feel the warmth rising beneath his fingers when he tilted his head back slightly, biting at his lip while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Good,” he murmured.

He kept his grip on you for a few moments longer, in no real rush to move back towards the shop despite the heat slowly settling low in his stomach, eyes fixed on the breathless look spread across your face.

A quiet fuck slipped from beneath your breath, your thoughts short-circuiting around the tight grip he still had on you and the unbearably cocky look he was giving you.

“C’mon.” He scoffed softly under his breath before tilting his head towards the buzzing street. “Before I take you right here.”

Your pulse hammered beneath his fingertips as his hands grabbed at your hips instead, pulling you away from the wall and back into him for one more quick, messy kiss before he laced his fingers through yours and guided you out the alley he’d pulled you into earlier.

He only let go of your hand once – to shrug off his jacket and drape it over your shoulders when the cold evening wind picked up around the two of you.

Every now and then he’d tug you back against him just long enough to steal another kiss beneath the amber streetlights before continuing down the sidewalk like he hadn’t just completely short-circuited your brain again with his warm, plush lips and the comforting smell of leather and smoke clinging to his jacket.

“You always this clingy after two drinks?” you teased quietly.

Eddie only snorted under his breath before glancing down at you.

“You always this distracting?”

Feeling too flustered to come up with a proper reply, you only clicked your tongue softly before letting go of his hand to dig the cluttered keychain out of your bag once the shop came back into view.

“Please don’t mind the mess,” you mumbled under your breath while unlocking the door.

Eddie barely waited for the lock to click open before one of his hands found your hip again while the other slid around your throat, firmly tilting your head back so he could kiss you again.

While one of your hands curled loosely around the forearm resting on your throat, you weakly pushed the door open with the other as Eddie pressed his chest flush against your back and shuffled the two of you into the cramped entryway.

He nudged the door shut with his foot without pulling away from you – not when the pretty, muffled whimpers slipping from your mouth were making him even harder than he already was.

His rings pressed against your throat as he kept your head tilted back, kissing deep and messily from the awkward angle he held you at while his tongue slid insistently against yours. His bottom lip brushed sloppily against your upper one, teeth knocking together every now and then while a small drop of spit slipped from the corner of your mouth.

He finally pulled away – though reluctantly – when another soft, pathetic whimper slipped from your mouth into his.

“Take me upstairs, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s pupils blew wide as he took in the dumbfounded way you were staring up at him, lips swollen and slick with his spit.

He loosened his grip on you just enough to give your ass a quick smack when you kept staring up at him instead of moving.

“C’mon now,” he muttered, a cocky little grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

You licked your lips and swallowed hard before finally nodding absentmindedly, your gaze flicking towards the stairs.

Neither of you bothered to break the thick, expectant silence as you guided him upstairs.

Kicking off your shoes once you finally got upstairs, you flicked the lights on, revealing a living room that looked like it had been pulled straight out of the seventies.

Brown couch, walls covered in posters, plants crowding nearly every surface, a funky patterned rug tying it all together – not exactly what Eddie had expected from the girl in eyeliner and a vintage Metallica shirt.

Eddie glanced around the apartment before letting out a quiet laugh under his breath.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “This place looks like my childhood.”

That pulled a soft laugh from you.

“Yeah, well,” you chuckled under your breath, “I was raised on old records and questionable interior design.”

Your face warmed a little when he kicked off his boots and drifted towards the record collection in the corner, suddenly feeling weirdly nervous about what he might think of your music taste.

“Fuck, you might have a bigger collection that I do, sweetheart,” he said distractedly. “There’s some seriously good stuff in here.”

You chuckled again, softly under your breath, as you wandered towards the kitchen and pulling two glasses from the cupboard.

“Glad you approve of my music taste,” you teased while pushing through the beaded curtain separating the kitchen from the living room. “Choose your poison: whiskey or rum?”

Eddie looked over his shoulder, his attention finally dragged away from the records when the clinking beads announced your return from the kitchen – which, considering the rest of the apartment, of course only made the drinking cart in the corner of the living room feel more fitting.

The soft metallic raps of the pour against glass filled the room alongside the warm scent of toasted oak and brown sugar from the rum you were pouring yourself.

The bottle twitched slightly in your hand when Eddie suddenly stepped in behind you, one arm wrapping loosely around your waist while he pushed a strand of hair aside to press a kiss against your neck.

“Watcha havin’?” he murmured against your skin, warm breath fanning across your neck.

You swallowed hard, feeling yourself growing flustered all over again before tilting the bottle slightly so he could see the label.

His lips stayed glued to your neck, pressing slow, messy kisses against your skin while he hummed quietly between them.

“Wanna share?” he murmured, voice muffled by the fact he still refused to let go of you.

“If you keep kissing me like that,” you mumbled breathlessly after screwing the bottle shut and setting it back down, “we’re not gonna end up drinking anything.”

His greying curls tickled your skin when he chuckled against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You looked over your shoulder, catching his mouth with yours and finally forcing him to abandon your neck long enough for you to turn properly towards him.

Your hand slid from his chest to the back of his neck before tangling into his curls and tugging hard enough to pull a rough sound from him.

You bit lightly at his bottom lip before kissing him again – messy and impatient this time – and Eddie immediately tightened his grip on your hips, pulling your body flush against his while his fingers pressed harder into your skin.

“Couch or bed?” you breathed against his lips before dragging slow kisses down the side of his neck.

A rough fuck slipped from Eddie’s mouth as he tipped his head back slightly, swallowing hard when you sucked at his skin.

“You attached to your couch?” he muttered, already steering the two of you towards it.

Finally pulling away from his mouth, you harshly pushed him back against the worn suede cushions before straddling his lap.

“I might after tonight,” you whispered teasingly as your hands slipped up around his neck, drawing him back into another messy kiss before he could even think of a reply.

You rolled your hips curiously against his, feeling the sharp twitch of his cock beneath the thick denim of his jeans before pulling away just enough to brush your lips back against his neck, catching the rapid pulse fluttering beneath his skin. Eddie’s hand tightened around your hip immediately, guiding your movements faster as he tipped his head enough to catch your earlobe between his teeth while his other hand slid down your back, under your skirt to your ass.

A rough groan slipped from him when you sucked harder against his neck – enough to leave something behind for him to remember you by later.

“Take it off,” he mumbled as he tugged impatiently at the jacket still hanging loosely from your shoulders, his movements hurried despite the softness in his voice.

You grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head before catching his mouth again in another messy, wet kiss. He kissed you with fervour, tongue crashing wildly against yours while he kneaded the supple flesh, warm rings digging into your ass.

Eddie reached down and grabbed the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss, and hurriedly peeling it up to reveal the lack of a bra on you.

He tilted his back just slightly as he groaned, sounding almost pained, at the view of your gradually hardening nipples. He threw your shirt somewhere behind you, and latched his lips against your throat. He left soft nibs and wet, messy kissed as he trailed down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth, while the hand he had on your hip slid up to pinch the other.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he rasped between licks as you arched further into his touch and buckled against his hard on. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

Eddie curled his lips around your nipple once more, gently biting and pulling at it, and then smoothing the sting down with his tongue before he repeated the whole thing all over again.

Slowly, he trailed his hand lower, calloused fingertips grazing along the sensitive skin of your ribs and inner thighs until he reached the lacy edge of your panties. He hooked his fingers underneath, just to snap the fabric against your skin and steal another whimper from you. He bit your nipple one more time before pulling away, looking at you from under his lashes as he drag your panties down just enough to see the mess you’d made.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he praised huskily, ghosting his fingertips along your slit and circling your swollen clit, “all this for me?”

All you could really do was give him another pathetic whimper.

With a cocky grin, he pulled his fingers away and suddenly lifted you off him to throw you on the couch, scoffing softly at the way your breasts jiggled with the hard movement before biting his lips.

Eddie straddled you before you could react properly and pinned your wrists above your head with his ringed hand while he pulled at your lacy panties with the other.

“I’m going to absolutely ruin you,” he groaned as he ground against your pussy, not caring if it would ruin his jeans.

He finally let go of your wrists to push himself up straight and unbutton his jeans.

Your chest fell and rose erratically, eyes glued to his tattooed chest before they trailed down to his fingers pulling at the zipper. Eddie didn’t take off his jeans after that, too busy dipping his head back to your tits and trailing his tongue down from your nipple to the waist of your skirt.

“This stays on,” he groaned, looking up at you as he dipped lower and pushed your thighs apart with his hands.

“Y-you…” you trailed off breathlessly, gulping down when he licked his lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Oh, I absolutely do,” Eddie groaned back, eyes glued to your slick folds. “Can’t just ignore this pretty pussy, not when she’s begging for me.”

He lowered his head and circled your clit with the tip of tongue before sealing his lips around it, sucking greedily. His fingers dug harder into your skin as he buried his face deeper, lapping and probing your leaking slit. He pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away to spit on your cunt. Eddie’s eyes flickered back to your face as he slipped one finger into your sloppy cunt, curling it to stroke along your slick walls. His lips, still shiny with you, fell open to groan when he felt you flutter around him, encouraging him to pump his finger a little faster.

“I– Fuck, Eddie.”

Gently adding another finger, he stretched you open before dipping his bead back to lap at your clit, swirling his tongue around it. Eddie thrusted his fingers faster, curling them to hit that special spot inside you to bring you closer to the edge. He relentlessly fingered your cunt open while lashing his tongue against your swollen nub, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your quivering body.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he moaned against you when he felt you clench around his fingers, sending vibrations down your clit. “C’mon, baby, you can do it. Give it to me.”

Eddie curled his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you, while he sucked greedily hard at you, sending electric shocks through your body. Your hips bucked against his face as he brought you closer to the brink. He flickered his eyes to yours, crooking his fingers even harder than before, finally pushing you over the edge with a few final hard sucks and thrusts of his fingers.

Your pretty groans and whimpers shattered into a high-pitched moan as you finally came on Eddie’s ringed fingers.

Eddie gave your clit one last greedy kiss, ignoring the overstimulated twitch of your thighs around his face, and pushed himself up to smash his lips onto yours. His chin and cheeks were glistening, and the taste of your slick was heavy on his tongue.

“Can’t believe you were gonna hold out on me,” he said when he broke away, and frowned down at you, dark silver curls framing his face. “Boys your age don’t ever eat you out? That why you tried to stop me?”

You breathed heavily as you blinked a few times to clear your vision from the black spots blocking his view.

Eddie brought his sticky fingers to your face, and tapped your cheeks firmly, his eyebrows still furrowed. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”

“I…” you trailed off, mind hazy from the orgasm he just gave you. “No, they don’t.”

Eddie tsked at that, his brows relaxing while the corners of his mouth pulled into a cocky grin.

“Good,” he murmured, eyes still glued on yours. “More for me.”

Capturing your lips again, he poured all his spent-up energy into the filthy embrace. His slick tongue brushed messily against yours, teeth clinking against teeth, until spit rolled from the corner of his mouth and down your chin. He broke away reluctantly and rested his sweat-dampened brow against yours.

Eddie wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you closer until the rough edges of his zipper rasped against your sensitive folds. He gave you a few desperate rolls of his hips before he loosened his grip on you and pulled himself off the couch.

He stood tall, right at the edge of the couch, and let his eyes travel down your body as he pushed down his jeans until they dropped around his ankles with a soft thud. He noticed the way your thighs twitched when he stepped out of it and pulled off his boxers to free his strained erection.

He looked beautiful – long, and thicker than you’d imagined, with a painfully swollen tip that already leaked with sticky beads of pre cum – with his brows furrowed as he wrapped his hand around himself, stroking his cock once, twice, eyes glued onto yours while he did so.

“How do you want me?”

“Raw,” you breathed out before forcing down a dry lump down your throat. “Please.”

Eddie’s cock twitched in his hand while he sank his knees back down onto the couch. He loosened his grip around himself and wrapped his hands around your thighs once more.

He lined the swollen tip against your leaking slit before he changed his mind, and slid his cock between your still sensitive, sticky folds instead – like he hadn’t entirely decided if you deserved to be fucked just yet.

“Careful, now,” he groaned, eyebrows furrowed again as he glued his eyes on the way you were staining his cock. “Might start thinkin’ you wanna be bred.”

Then, when he’d finally lost the rest of his restraint, he notched his leaking tip at your slit, and pushed in slowly – inch, by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

His cock stretched you open, sharp and painfully in the best way possible.

“I– Fuck, Eddie,” you choked out, brows furrowed. “I-I don’t–”

“Yes, you can,” he scoffed, digging his fingers deeper into your thighs. “You’re already doin’ it, sweetheart.”

Eddie stilled, allowing the both of you a moment to process the overwhelming feeling. Slowly, he withdrew until just the tip remained nestled within your slick heat. Then, with torturous gentleness, he sank back in and savoured each slick inch as he claimed you completely.

The pathetic whimpers mingled with his grunts before he leaned over again and pressed open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck.

“See? You’re doing it,” he breathed out against your skin. “You take me so fucking well, baby.”

He let out a grow, scrunched eyebrows as he worked you open, faster and deeper with each thrust. You couldn’t help but clench around him, dizzy and stupid with the way his tip brushed against that one spot so perfectly.

You threw one of your arms around his neck while the other found a tight grip in his dark silver curls, pulling at his locks and digging your nails into his skin every time he slid his cock in and out of you.

“Oh, God–”

He only grabbed your thighs even harder, angling his head to suck harshly at your neck, desperate to mark you, to claim you as his while you whine pathetically beneath him. The pretty sounds that left your mouth made his head spin, and his cock twitched with the need to pound you into your couch.

Eddie snapped his hips into yours, desperately thrusting his cock in and out of you as he pulled embarrassing squelching sounds out of your pussy, along with your broken moans and the hard slaps of his heavy balls hitting your ass.

“P-please,” you whimpered.

“Please, what, sweetheart?” He bit at your earlobe. “Am I not giving you enough, is that it?”

He pushed your thighs up until your knees touched your breasts, leaving you splayed wide and exposed, trembling in his hold.

“Look at you,” he groaned appreciatively as he drank in the sight of his cock disappearing in your slick folds with each hard thrust he gave you. “Is this what you wanted, hm?”

You moaned louder with each sharp brush of his curly bush against your sensitive clit.

Eddie was fucking experienced, and it showed by the way he knew exactly how to pound into you and roll his hips while rearranging your guts.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he groaned low in your ear, “wanna have you squeezing around me as you come, can you do that f’me?”

He loosened one of his hands around your thighs and brought up his ringed thumb to your bottom lip. The heavy silver bit into your chin while he forced his thumb into your mouth.

“Suck.”

Your eyebrows scrunched at his request, drunk on his words, while you followed his demand. Your tongue staining his digit with filthy strokes, before he yanked his thumb away again.

Eddie’s thumb easily found your already abused clit – and fuck, the combination of his cock dragging against your slick walls, the tight circles he drew against your clit, and the dumbfounded look he gave you were more than enough to make you clench hard around his cock.

“That’s it, baby,” he chuckled cockily. “Fucking come for me.”

That was all the encouragement you needed; your vision blackened once again while he fucked you through it, heavy thumb still working your clit even when you twitched hard with overstimulation.

You pulled hard at his hair, and treated him as an anchor as you arched your back despite the position he still had you in. Your walls fluttered, and his name you moaned out broke as you came again.

“Ed-Eddie fuckfuckfuck.”

He pressed his forehead against yours while he continuously pushed into you, seeking his own release.

“Atta girl,” he groaned loudly as he rutted deep, his body sweaty, and lips swollen from leaving pretty marks on your neck. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside. Please, Eddie.”

All he needed were those three little words – pretty, panting whispers that made him rut into you until his thrusts went erratic.

Until he gave you one last, desperate thrust, his heavy balls hitting your ass as he groaned out your name and filled you with white, warm sticky ropes. He dropped his head forwards, and bit into your neck as he rode out the last of his orgasm.

Eddie let out a breathy chuckle, his nose brushing against your skin before he finally pulled away from you. He dragged a hand through his hair, pushing the dark silver strands away from his face while he tried – and failed – to catch his breath.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he breathed out, licking at his lips while his mouth hung open, chest still rising unevenly.

Then he stepped back just enough for his knees to crack softly as he lowered himself onto the floor between your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch until your legs dangled over his shoulders.

“W-what are you–” you breathed out, low and pathetic, while your eyes did their best to stay open.

Eddie wrapped his hands around your thighs again, holding you there while he trailed soft kisses along your skin. His rings dug deeper into you when you tried to pull away from his lips when he got too close to your overstimulated, leaking cunt.

“I-I can’t, Eddie–” you whimpered pathetically, doing your best to pull your hips away from him, but to no avail. “It’s t-too m-much.”

“Yes, you can, baby.” Your pussy twitched when he chuckled tiredly, his warm breath spreading over you just before he gave you a lingering kiss on your clit. “Just one more. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”

This time, he was gentle with it – he left soft pecks on your swollen nub, slowly trailing down until his tongue lapped at your leaking slit. Eddie leaned softly into your cunt, nose bumping against your clit while he licked you clean from his cum.

You tiredly reached for his head, weakly trying to push his forehead away when overstimulated tears started rolling down.

“Ed-Eddie,” you chocked out a sob, hips twitching against his greedy face. “P-please, I can’t–”

“Shhh,” he whispered against your heat, fingers digging hard into your thighs as he pulled you even closer to his face. “Be good for me, baby.”

Your chest rose up and down erratically as you tried to catch your breath, choking on pathetic whimpers and sobs, while Eddie continued his gentle abuse on your pussy. His tongue was warm and slick against your wet, sticky folds, lapping gently at your slit as he collected everything he gave you.

The tight grip he had on your thighs didn’t stop you from twitching uncontrollably as you clenched around his tongue and came one last time. His name died on the tip of your tongue as he kept lapping at your slit for a few more times, before gently lowering your legs off his shoulders. Eddie then climbed back on you and pulled your legs up his hips.

One of his hands let go of your calf and grabbed at your face instead, pulling your cheeks together until your mouth hang open for him. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk right before he opened his lips and spat his cum on your tongue.

You looked absolutely pathetic – eyebrows furrowed and slightly raised, and teary eyes looking tiredly up at him while he still had a tight grip on your cheeks. Goosebumps spread over your body when he leaned down and caught a milky, rolling drop of cum from your chin and gave it back to you when he smashed his lips back onto yours. A desperate uhmpf! slipped from the back of your throat when his cum-tainted tongue brushed against yours in urgent strokes as he let you taste the mixture of both of you.

Eddie’s cock never had a chance to soften – not when your messy cunt tasted so good with his milky release and your tears wet the fingers still digging deep into your cheeks. He twitched against you, swallowing your broken whimpers while he moved his swollen lips against yours.

“I–”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips, licking at your bottom lip before he gave you another peck. “I’ll let you rest for now.”

Eddie pulled away just enough to look at you – really look at you – and grinned knowingly.

“Unless you got something better going on tonight?”

⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: i have nothing to say, i'll just... put myself in time out

 “I have a birthday this weekend,” you shook your hair in a sexy move you practiced in front of a mirror.

 “Happy birthday, princess.” Eddie tried to keep his eyes from your breasts that begged to be free.

 “Thanks, but there’s something I hope you can help me with.” You nervously looked around, but it seemed like everyone was too busy melting in the Midwest heat to care what on earth you could be talking to Munson about.

 “I have a girls-only pool party and need some... party favors.” 

Eddie finally understood that you just wanted drugs and put his professional smile on. “Anything I have is yours, princess. Bulk discount.”

 “Maybe some pills to dance and have fun, you can help with that?” Eddie frowned; it was more dangerous than the weed he had in his lunchbox. 

“It’s harder to get, but I can go an extra mile for your birthday. It will cost you, though; it’s high on the market.”

You kept being as seductive as you could in the heat, staring at a drop of sweat running down his neck. “I have a budget, but that’s not all I hope you can help with.”

 You reached for your water bottle and drank a sip, letting him notice how your lips wrapped around the thick bottle neck.

 “What can I do for you, my lady? Blow balloons, roll the red carpet?” He swallowed hard, running a hand through his damp hair.

 You let your gaze drop to his hands fidgeting with the chain. “Many of us are doing it for the first time. I would feel much better if someone with experience was around, just to tell us what is normal, shit like that. Stay relatively sober, so you could drive if there’s an emergency.” You lifted your eyes to look at him through your lashes in the most innocent way. 

“Oh, you want me to babysit your party?” He smirked, but you could tell the idea to be the only dick in a pool full of girls in bikinis excited him. 

“Saturday 9pm, bring your trunks.”

 “I didn’t say yes, baby.” 

“I read your mind,” you murmured and wiped a drop of water from your chin.

 Eddie stayed stunned, frying in the afternoon sun. Since when am I invited to babysit parties instead of crushing them? Guess I’m getting old for this. Good thing I’m graduating.

Dividers by @chateaubarnes

Hot summer night is filled with music and laughter. The stars are emerging in the twilight, and everything seems magical, you’re all young and pretty and everything is possible.

 Eddie is tense though, he’s sitting by the cooler, nursing the same beer for an hour, still stubbornly wearing blue jeans and a tank top, at least white this time, his vest covered in a ridiculous amount of metal band pins slung on the chair back.

 You and your friends are loose and happy splashing in the pool, some already topless. 

Including you. 

Your skin tingles from the excitement, you never dared to be this naughty. Perky breasts bounce with every move, nipples harden from the summer breeze and Eddie's dark gaze, that he tries to move away every time you look. 

“Eddie,” you call sweetly, swimming closer and two of your friends follow. “Join us, you don’t have to guard the beer cooler like a gargoyle.” 

He crosses his legs trying to hide the boner in his jeans. “I’m fine, birthday girl. Gotta think straight when you’re all rolling.” 

You grin, and tell your friends: “He’s sweet, don’t you think? Suffering in the heat, trying to be good and watch out for us.” The girls laugh and blow him kisses, Sarah grabs his ankle and you join too. “C’mon, Munson. Have a little fun with us.” 

He doesn’t take you seriously and loses his footing when you three yank his legs, sliding in with a splash. He emerges cursing, soaked like a very cute sea lion. “Fuck, okay, I’m in. Happy now?” Should’ve worn those damn trunks.

 Your bare breasts press into his soaked top, and you both inhale sharply at the contact. “Very,” you whisper as your lips “accidentally” brush his jaw. “You’ve been staring at my tits all night.” 

“You’re high as hell right now. This is the molly talking, sweetheart. You don’t want...” you don’t listen and drag the shirt over his head. Eddie is trying to steady himself and not grab for your waist or breast. His skin is pale with a few moles, the tattoos glisten and the happy trail disappears into his jeans. Now when the water plasters them tight, his straining cock is obvious to everyone. 

The other girls lounge on floats or the deck, watching you all with amused interest but choosing not to join the fray. 

Sarah, Jess and you surround him like playful sirens. They touch and tickle and lick as you kiss him enjoying the intoxicating sensation of his lips on yours. Eddie gives up and anchors himself to your waist. His pupils are blown wide, making his gaze almost black, but there’s no fear. “Ladies, you are misbehaving,” he mutters when you put your hand on the bulge in his jeans and stroke once, then again, feeling his throbbing cock. Your friends drag him deeper. 

Everything is muffled and surreal under the water, the bubbles rush up from his mouth. His eyes open wide when you cup his face, seal your lips to his and exhale slowly, giving him air together with a filthy deep kiss. He responds, his tongue slides inside your mouth as Sarah and Jess stroke and tickle his chest, his thighs, his cock. Eddie jerks desperately but it’s three against one. 

You surface for air, then go back under, feeding him another breath while hands explore him everywhere. He is trembling with need by the time you finally haul him to the edge.

 “I don’t bite, unless you ask for it,” you murmur in his ear, breathy and low. Your fingers slide down his chest and you feel his heart is hammering crazy. Sarah licks a drop of water off his neck and Jess runs her nails down his back scraping gently. Eddie groans, lost in sensation and not sure if he should focus on you or give attention to the other girls too. 

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Jess says with a wink. “Have fun, birthday girl,” Sarah adds and they both drift back with giggling, pleased with the tease. You wrap around him in the deep end. 

Eddie tries to protest again, though his resolve is weak. “You’re rolling. I’m not gonna take advantage of...” You lean to kiss him, Eddie moans in your mouth and your tongue slides in. 

When you pull back, you coo against his neck, “Then don’t. Let me take advantage of you.” 

Eddie cracks. You can feel it in the way his hands finally grip your ass, how he is pulling you tighter so his hard cock presses against your bikini bottoms through the jeans. Your body feels weightless in the water. You grind on him with need, nails glide over wet skin, trace tattoos and scrape his sensitive nipples.

 “Eddie, you’re so fucking hard it must hurt,” you whisper, palming him through the denim. “All that just from a little tease?” 

“Princess,” he groans, his hips jerk into your touch. “You’re killing me. This is a bad idea... you’re gonna regret it when you come down.” 

“Why do you think I invited you?” You nip his bottom lip and stroke him firmer. “I want you. Planned it crystal sober.” 

You guide his hand between your legs. Eddie slips two fingers under the fabric and touches your hot center. 

“Fuck… so slick,” he murmurs, circling your clit with gentle pressure. Eddie cups your breast with his other hand, thumb brushing your nipple until you moan softly. “You feel so good. I shouldn’t...” 

You simply unbuckle his jeans and free his cock; it springs free, heavy and flushed against your stomach. 

“You should. C’mhere.” His cock throbs in your hand underwater, you stroke and he groans against your lips. Eddie is shaking with need, almost losing it while you tease and explore his lanky body.

 “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop now,” he’s panting. 

“Upstairs,” you whisper against his ear with urgency. You pull him inside, his wet jeans drop across the floor. You find a guest bedroom and push him on the bed. Eddie sits on the edge, staring speechless at you stripping your bikini bottoms and standing naked between his spread thighs. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers. He can’t help his hands that wrap over you. “But you’re high, baby. We should slow down...”

 You hover over his face. “Talk less, do more,” and lower your soaked pussy. 

Eddie is done being responsible. He grips your ass and pulls you down. He licks a long, slow stripe through your folds, the tip of his tongue circles your clit with dedication. He sucks gently at first, then firmer, moaning against your skin as if you're the one doing him a favor. With every flick and swirl the pleasure in your stomach tightens.

 “Fuck... Eddie, just like that,” you whimper, grinding against his face. He devours you eagerly, long tongue pushing inside you, nose rubbing your clit. Your thighs start to shake. You come hard on his face with a muffled cry; waves of intense pleasure crash through you. Eddie keeps licking you through it, drawing it out until you are trembling. 

You straddle him, and guide his cock to your entrance. “How can you be so hot and not even know it? I want you inside me.” You sink down inch by inch, gasping at the stretch. Eddie’s head falls back with a deep, guttural moan.

 “Shit... tight. So warm,” he groans, hands gripping your hips hard. “You feel incredible. I’m trying to be good here…” 

You roll your hips, ride him in long, paced strokes. Every sensation blooms: the drag of his cock inside you, the way your clit rubs against his pelvis, the heat of his mouth when you lean down to kiss him. 

“Tell me how it feels,” you whisper, nipping his neck. “Like heaven. Like I’m losing my mind.” He thrusts up to meet you, one hand kneading your breast, pinching your nipple just right. 

“You’re dripping down my cock, sweetheart. You really want me that much?”

 “Yes,” you moan, grinding deeper. “Want you to fuck me full. Want to feel you come inside me.” Eddie flips you, pinning your hands. 

“Such a good girl... taking it so well.” He thrusts rough and deep. “Tell me if it hurts.”

 “I won’t,” you gasp and wrap your legs around him. “Harder, Eddie.”

 He drops all restraint and fucks you with long, powerful strokes that build steadily. The room fills with wet sounds, balls slap your ass, and you can’t tell who moans louder. Eddie kisses you messily, licks down your throat, sucks marks onto your breasts and whispers filthy praise. 

“Look at you... spread open for me... gonna make you come first, baby.” 

His praise, his husky voice pushes you over the edge. You fall apart, clenching tight around him, and Eddie follows, pushes somehow even harder and deeper and fills you with his hot release. 

You suddenly tune back into the world around you, the distant thump of music, voices downstairs, and how you both try to catch your breath. Eddie doesn’t pull out right away; he wraps you in his arms tighter instead and your head rests on his chest. 

“I promised to watch over you,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, his voice still rough. “But fuck... I couldn’t say no.” 

You smile drowsily against his skin, stroking the dragon on his chest. For a moment you are quiet. Then you whisper, “I should probably tell you…” 

Eddie cracks one eye open. “Yeah?”

 “I didn’t actually take any of the molly.” Your lips curve into a mischievous little smile. “I just had a couple of shots.” 

He stares at you, his eyes wide and deep, then lets out a short laugh that turns into a groan. 

“You little shit. I’ve been losing my mind trying not to be a creep, and you were mostly sober the whole time?” 

“Mhm.” You nip his collarbone. “The party favors, the ‘babysitter’ excuse, the topless swimming... all of it to get you right here with me. Even if I'm a little drunk, it's you here melting me.”

@munsonsbunni you didn’t ask for it but I couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie melting

Steve had slept on your couch, though he had offered to sleep on the floor of your bedroom. You were grateful to have a friend so willing to inconvenience himself for you, but your heart still yearned for the comfort of someone else. 

“Coffee?” you called across the room when you saw Steve stir awake. 

“Sure,” he yawned, unsuccessfully rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

The coffee you shared was just as silent as Eddie was in his own trailer. Neither of you knew how to bring up what had happened. There was nothing to say. 

“I have a shift this afternoon,” Steve finally spoke as he went to rinse his mug in your sink, “But I’m sure Robin won’t mind covering for me if you’d like me to stay.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, but I’ll be fine,” you were barely able to keep your eyes open as you spoke. 

“Hey,” Steve sat on the bar stool next to you, and urged you to look at him, “I don’t want you to be polite about this. If you need me, I’m here.” 

“I know,” you smiled halfheartedly. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You simply nodded as you leaned further into the counter in front of you. 

“Why didn’t you want Eddie to come over last night?”

The question woke you up instantly. The scenes from the night before flashed behind your eyes, so you fought to keep them open to ground yourself back in your trailer. 

“I know he chased you down because of Eddie, but-” 

“Eddie can’t know about this, Steve.” 

“But why?” 

“Because,” you blurted out loudly, and quickly shied away from your own voice, “If he finds out that something like this happened because someone saw us in public, he’s never going to go outside again. This is exactly what he was afraid of. And I don’t want to be the reason he backslides.” 

Steve knew that that was your reasoning, but he didn’t realize just how much weight you had placed on your own shoulders. 

“You know this isn’t your fault right?” He asked gently, and waited for you to answer. When you didn’t acknowledge him he spoke again. “You’re right, this is the last thing he wanted. He was terrified of this, but not for his own sake. For yours. But that doesn’t mean you should keep him in the dark.” 

“I can’t tell him,” you cried softly, staring down at your lap. 

Before Steve could think about what to say, a knock sounded at your door. It wasn’t loud, in fact you may have missed it if you had been in any other room. But despite its volume, your heart immediately began to race and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Steve saw the panic in your eyes, so he rested a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’ll send whoever it is away, don’t worry.” 

You nearly stopped him, nearly begged him to not let whoever it was know that anyone was inside. But he left before you could organize your thoughts enough to speak. 

You stayed hidden in the kitchen as he answered the door. When he opened it and you heard Eddie’s concerned and tired voice ask if you were ok, the pace of your heart only increased. 

Steve looked back over his shoulder at you, but you weren’t looking in their direction. He stepped outside without acknowledging your presence. 

“Eddie it's like 7am,” he chided in lieu of an answer to his question. 

“I know, I couldn’t sleep,” Eddie sighed. His eyes scanned over your trailer, trying to gather any information on the events of the previous night, details that he obviously wasn’t going to be getting by asking. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to stress you out. I promise, she’s not hurt. It’s not worst case scenario. I just don’t know how much she really wants me to discuss with anyone right now.” 

“Am I just anyone?” Eddie tried to hide the pain in the question, but Steve knew how much it hurt. And he was right, he wasn’t just anyone. But that was exactly why he couldn’t tell him more. 

He knew he was already riding the line of a lie. He knew that Eddie would have considered this a worst case scenario, but he was holding on to the fact that Hunter hadn’t been able to touch you. You outran him and you were going to be ok. Worst case scenario to him would have been sitting at your bedside in the ICU. Just like he had with Eddie. 

“You’re not. To me or her. Just… God I hate playing middle man,” Steve sighed and dragged a hand down his face, “I’ll talk to her, ok? The last thing I want to do right now is show her she can't trust me, so just give me some time.” 

Eddie barely nodded in response, and he hesitated before heading back to his trailer. He wasn’t sure what else he could say or do. He couldn’t stand the thought of walking back home without answers, but the only alternative was bursting through your front door and demanding them. The thought had occurred to him, but he figured he better save that as a last resort. 

He spent the next several hours pacing his living room. It was a habit he was far too familiar with, but this time felt different. He had spent the past year fearing for his own well being, fearing what life would be like if he never left those four walls, and fearing what could happen if he did. In all those months, he never once paced like this while trying to process fear for someone else. 

Steve convinced you to try to take a nap while he was at work. He had tried to insist on staying with you, but you maintained that you would be fine and he needed to go. The nap was a hard sell, but you could admit you needed the rest. He helped you check all the locks on your windows before he left, at your request. You gave him your spare key to get back in just in case you actually managed to fall asleep. You tried to quell the thoughts that somehow the key would land in the wrong hands and you would wake with someone who meant you harm standing over you. 

It wasn’t until after Steve left that you realized that your car and belongings were still at work, which led you to remember that you were late for your shift. You went to call your boss, but when you lifted the receiver, there was no dial tone. You looked to the side of the counter, where the phone usually plugged into the wall, but found that the cord had been tugged out, sometime between Steve calling Hopper and now. You quickly plugged it back in and called the store. Your manager just happened to be the first person to answer. You were surprised to hear him both panicked and relieved when you stated who was calling. It was a nice change from the usual annoyance in his tone. 

“I tried calling you 5 times this morning, I called the cops when I couldn’t reach you. You had us all worried.” 

“All that because I missed the start of a shift?” You tried to not sound upset. 

“A shift? What? No, David told us he walked out on some kid holding you at knifepoint last night. And that you ran into the woods and the kid sped off. We weren’t sure if you were alive, y/n.” 

“Right,” you sighed and closed your eyes. You had completely forgotten that David had been the only reason you had gotten away, and you didn’t even think about the fact that he had been there to witness it. “I’m fine, I’m home. But all things considered, I was hoping you would be ok if I miss the rest of my shift tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t call in sooner.” “Take the next week for all I care. I’m just glad you’re ok. Please, let me know if there’s anything we can do.” 

“Actually, I left some things in the break room. Would it be alright if I sent a friend in to get them for me?” 

“Of course.” 

You thanked him and quickly hung up the phone. You had half expected to get fired, so you were happily surprised by your boss’s out of character reaction to the situation. 

The relief you felt about having an entire week off was enough to finally kick you out of active fight or flight. You turned the tv on and flipped through the channels until you landed on some old black and white western that was halfway through. You were asleep before the next scene began.

Steve made it to work later than usual. He made a habit out of being punctual, so Robin made sure to tease him over it. She felt terrible when he explained why. 

“So why the fuck are you here?” 

“She made it very clear she wanted me to go to work. I tried telling her it was ok if I stayed.” 

“I really think maybe this is one of those situations where you ignore what the other person says and you stay anyway. So why don’t you head on back? I can cover for you, no problem.” 

“You sure?” Steve asked, but he knew the answer. He finished the task he was working on, but left quickly after. 

While Steve’s car was gone, Eddie considered heading over to check on you. He hoped that without Steve as your line of defense he might have a better chance of seeing you, of finding out what was going on. He didn’t have much time to talk himself into it before Steve returned. It had been maybe an hour, and there Steve was, walking right back up to your front door. 

Eddie was able to stop him before he went in, just as he had finished unlocking your front door. He definitely took note of the fact that he had a key. 

“Steve, I have to see her. Or I have to know something man, I’m going fucking crazy.” 

“Eddie,” Steve sighed, but this time it sounded more sympathetic than annoyed, “Fine. I think she’s sleeping right now, but when she wakes up I’ll do what I can to talk her into talking to you. Or at least letting me fill you in, ok?” 

Eddie’s expression showed clear frustration with Steve’s solution, but before he could protest that it wasn’t good enough, a loud scream came from inside your trailer. 

Both boys were inside in seconds, met with the sight of you clawing the blanket off of yourself and trying to get away from some imaginary threat at the other end of the couch. Eddie remained at the door, heartbroken by what he saw. Not only at how you were acting, but how tired you looked. How terrified you seemed to be. 

Steve was by your side in seconds, reaching out to grab your arms with both hands. You jumped at the touch, but once your eyes landed on his you began to ground back into reality. It took you a second to be able to actually hear the noise in the room over the buzzing in your ears. 

“You’re ok, you’re fine,” Steve continued to repeat over the sound the tv was playing. 

“S-sorry, I think I h-had a ni-ightmare,” you struggled to speak, stuttering over syllables between gasps for air. 

“I know, it’s alright,” Steve tried to soothe. You didn’t quite calm down, it was more like you had just become more lucid. Your breathing began to slow back to normal, but your eyes still shifted around the room, searching for threats. That was when they landed on Eddie, still standing by the door. 

“What’s he doing here?” You glared at Steve, but Eddie mistook it as anger towards him. 

“We were talking outside when we heard you scream,” he gave you a look, as if to say “Now is your chance to talk to him.” 

You still weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t sure if there really was anything to say. How were you supposed to tell someone you cared for that you had to run for your life from a man with a knife all because you knew him. 

“I need some water,” you sighed. You had to stop Steve when he tried to get up to get it for you. As you made it to the cabinet to grab a glass, Eddie crossed the room to hoist Steve up from where he was kneeling and dragged him towards the hallway, as far away as he could get from you without entering your bedroom. 

“Maybe you were right. I’m gonna head home. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.” 

“Are you serious? She’s right there, why don’t you just try to talk to her?” 

Steve couldn’t read the emotion on Eddie’s face when he glanced over at you, he supposed it may be because he was experiencing too many to differentiate between them all. 

“I think it’s time I face the fact that she doesn’t need me right now,” Eddie began, ripping his eyes from you and returning them to Steve, “She obviously needs you though.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about Munson?” Steve’s entire face soured at Eddie’s poorly masked show of jealousy. 

“Look I get it, I’d choose you too, but-”

“Eddie, you sound like a fucking idiot.,” Steve interupted, just as the phone began to ring in the background. 

“No, I just should have listened to you. I’m not going to push my luck any further.” 

They continued to bicker back and forth as you made your way to the phone. You asked them to quiet down as you walked, not focused on a word they were saying. They seemed to hear you just as much as you heard them, as they continued to speak without pausing. 

“Guys,” you pestered, annoyed that they didn’t seem to hear a word. You tried two more times before losing your temper. “Can you guys shut the fuck up for a minute?” You yelled, much louder than either boy had ever heard you be. 

They both shot their attention over to you instantly, barely more shocked than you were by your own outburst. When you pointed at the ringing phone, Eddie knew exactly why you were on edge. The thought that had occurred to him didn’t quite make it to you though. You were unfortunately caught off guard by the voice on the other line. 

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to have any issues reaching you anymore,” your fathers stern voice made your entire body tense instantly. Both Steve and Eddie noticed the muscles in your back tensing in fear. Steve took a step towards you before you could reply, fearing who was on the other line, but Eddie grabbed his arm and put a finger up to his own lips to make sure he didn’t make this any worse for you. 

“Yes, I’m sor-”

“So tell me why your mother has called you twice today and you never picked up the phone?” 

“I know sir, I’m sorry. The phone got disconnected last night, but it’s back up and running now.” 

“You should have called us the second the line was running again.” 

“Yes sir, I’ll keep that in mind in the future.” 

“You sound tired, were you out late last night.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work right now?” 

You were pleased by the fact that he couldn’t see you roll your eyes through the phone. You wanted to scream “Why call me if you know I should be out of the house” but instead you replied with a polite, “I have the night off, Sir.” 

“How are you supposed to afford to live out there if you start taking nights off all willy nilly?”

“Dad, please,” you sounded exasperated, which would never fly with him, but you didn’t back down, “I promise I could afford to take the night off. I’ll be alright.” 

Steve shot Eddie a worried look, and mouth the word “dad” to him, questioning if Eddie was aware of the concerning way you were addressing him. Eddie offered a tight lipped smile in return. 

“You are on thin ice, young lady. One more misstep and we will be down there to move you right back home.” 

You didn’t want to reply in the affirmative, didn’t want to give him a foothold when he inevitably actually did show up to your doorstep with moving boxes. But you were too tired to fight him, so you replied with a small “Ok” before saying goodbye. 

You could feel their eyes on you before you turned around. After all you had been through the previous night, this should have been nothing, but it felt almost just as upsetting. 

Just as you had the first time Eddie witnessed a call with your father, you chose to completely ignore the elephant in the room. 

“Hey Steve,” you called in the most normal tone you could, “I left my keys and purse at work last night. Could you maybe go pick them up for me? I already asked them if you could.” 

“Uh,” Steve struggled to catch up, looking to Eddie for confirmation that he should disregard, “Yeah, sure.” Before he could leave the trailer, he gave you that same look, urging you to say something to Eddie in his absence. 

The second Steve exited, the atmosphere inside felt 10 times thicker. 

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Eddie gave you a tepid smile and began to walk for the door. 

You scrunched your face as you fought the voice telling you to let him go. 

“You saw the chief's car last night didn’t you?” 

Eddie paused with his fingers on the door handle.

“I did,” he admitted, looking at you from the corner of his eye. 

“I’m assuming that’s why you came over this morning?” 

“Yeah. And last night.” 

“You came over last night?” You asked, eyes finally landing on him. You tried to think back to when Eddie could have shown, unable to place together a proper timeline. 

“Yeah, Steve didn’t tell you?” 

You just shook your head. 

“He said you didn’t want to talk to me. Was that true?” 

“Not entirely.” 

“But you still told him that?” 

You took a deep breath. There was no way to explain the intent behind your words without telling him everything. No matter how hard you tried to concoct the perfect thing to say, you came up short. 

“I thought it was better if you didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“Didn’t know what?” He turned away from the door, finally engrossed enough in the conversation to forget how much he wanted to leave.

When you looked up at him, you looked terrified. The tears brimming your eyes were seconds away from spilling, and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to comfort you, but if he didn’t know what was wrong he didn’t know how to make it better. 

You tried to think of the best way to tell him what had happened, to let him know just enough but reassure him that he was still ok to keep improving. You had to fight the downward spiral your aching chest was pushing you towards. 

“Someone must have seen us outside the store the other day. One of my regulars heard about it and he wasn’t too happy,” you paused, unsure of how to elaborate any further. Eddie’s heart had already sunk, and he was trying to decide if his predominant emotion was sympathy or rage.  

“Who,” was the only word he could get past his lips.

“It doesn’t matter Eddie.” 

“Like Hell it doesn’t,” he shouted, but immediately regretted it when you flinched at the noise. “Did he touch you? And don’t you dare say it doesn’t matter.” 

“I’m fine. That’s all that matters.” 

“You’re not telling me everything. What happened?” 

You struggled to reply, but pushed yourself to maintain eye contact with him. The more you could convince him you were ok, that you were brave, the easier it would be to maintain his sense of safety. 

“He confronted me, and I…ran,” you struggled to give so little detail, to pretend like it had been nothing. 

“You ran home? Like from work?” 

You nodded. 

That was all the information Eddie needed to tell him just how bad it had been. No one in their right mind would have run that far that late at night. Not unless it was their only option to survive. 

“Did he pull a gun on you?” “What? No!” 

He was reassured by the surprise in your voice. 

“A knife then?” 

“Eddie, none of this matters. Like I said-” 

“Oh my god,” your deflection had given him his answer. He fought off the bile fighting its way up his esophagus

You could have died. You could have died. You could have died. 

It’s all his fault. It’s all his fault. It’s all his fault. 

“I was right,” he spoke just above a whisper, and he sounded completely broken. 

“But it didn’t even leave his pocket before I ran off.” 

“No, not about the knife,” he urged, looking up at you, gaze burning into you, “I should have never let you get involved. I knew that this would happen.” 

“Wait,” you began to panic. 

“No, I told Steve you were better off without me. God, I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“Eddie stop.”

“No. I was selfish to think that anything had changed. If you stick around I’m just going to fuck up your life. Just like I have everyone else’s. You need to stay far away from me.” 

“Please,” you pleaded, finally taking a step towards him. You reached for his hand but he shoved you off. When you looked up and saw no regret in his expression you froze.

“Steve will be really good for you,” he choked up, “You need to stop coming around. Don’t worry, I’ll do the same.”  

The tears were blinding you, but you could still see him storm through the front door. But you were paralyzed, unable to stop him.

Tags:

On a random Thursday night, you were reading a book on your bed, wind blowing heavy outside. Your window was almost right next to you, if not, a few centimetres apart. You could see the beautiful tree outside your house swaying with the wind, side to side. That view got blocked when a very smug Eddie Munson appeared. He knocked on your window to let him know your presence you sighed and opened it. Before you could open the window fully, he climbs on top of you, pushing you back on the bed. He towers on top of you, breathing heavily while you look up at him with doe eyes.

“Hey” He says. “Hi” You reply. “This is humiliating I’m being replaced by Steve Harrington.” He speaks. You chuckled. “You’re dramatic.”  He rolls his eyes. “If dramatic means, getting jealous because my girlfriend is pretending to fake date some jock then yes, I am VERY DRAMATIC.” You laughed at his unseriousness, Eddie really didn’t care what you did with Steve cause even though he didn’t trust him he trusted you with his whole life. He knew he’d have you at the end of the day anyway. “Half of school think he’s taking you to prom.” You shrug. “Well maybe he is.” He raises his index finger at you, widening his eyes in mock seriousness. “Don’t play.”  You scoff and putting his finger down with your hand, but he grabs it and pins your wrists against the bed at the top of your head.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if we just told people.” He suggested. You raise an eyebrow. “At the risk of Steve having a heart attack?” He shrugged. “That’s actually the main reason I want to.” Before you could even answer, headlights flashed outside your window. Eddie froze and sat up a little. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Predictable enough, the BMW belonged to none other than Steve. You grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, “You need to hide, like now.” “Where?!” He exclaimed. You looked around until your eyes landed on the closest. You looked back at him. “No absolutely not.”  You looked at him with puppy dog eyes, and he gave in. “The first and last time I’m doing this shit.” He mutters walking to the closet and closing the door.

The front door downstairs shut. Steve had the key since your mum gave it to him in case I needed him for an emergency and vice versa. Steve figured you were upstairs and you could hear his footsteps coming up the wooden stairs. You opened your book again, your eyes looking over the page as if that will magically remind you what you were reading about. Steve walked in carrying a VHS and a bag of chips. “Figured a movie night will helps us relax.” You let out a quick hum. He placed the chips on your desk and narrowed his eyes. “You’re acting weird.” Your neck twisted to look at him. “Excuse me?” He walked forward. “I don’t know something about you seems…weird, you vibe isn’t matching your usual vibe.” You raise your eyebrow “Oh so now you know my vibe.”

He shrugged it off but was still in suspicion, which you desperately wanted, needed to ignore. “Why does it feel so stuffy in here.” “My window’s closed.” “Honey it’s open.” Oh, shit he caught you there. He stared at you for a long moment. Then there was a hard thud that came from closet. Steve immediately turns his head around and walked to the closest. “No! Wait.” But it was too late. Steve’s jaw dropped as he met eyes with Eddie. “No…. Munson?” Eddie awkwardly waved at him and stood up. Eddie was just an inch taler than Steve, but it still made it hotter for some reason for you. “How long have you two been…” He didn’t finish the sentence so one of us could fill in the blanks.

You muttered. “A few months.” Steve’s eyes widen. “A FEW MONTHS.” He repeated. As you were about to defend yourself, he raised his hand telling you to stop. “You let the entire town think you were dating me while secretly dating HIM?!” You nodded slowly. “In my defence,” Eddie cut in, stepping out of the closet, “that wasn’t my favourite part either.” Steve glared at Eddie as if he didn’t have a say in this. Steve held the corner of the desk. “Yeah….no…nope.” Steve said. You grimaced. “What do you mean ‘no’?” You asked. “I mean no its Eddie Munson, same guy who sells drugs for a living.” Steve gestures. “Only occasionally” Eddie corrected him. Steve looks a second away from beating the shit out of him.

“He once jumped off a moving picnic table because someone dared him!” Eddie argued ack “It was a high success rate jump.” “You broke your arm!” “Allegedly.” Despite yourself, you laughed quietly. Steve stopped mid-rant. “Oh my God,” he muttered. “You actually like him.” Your face warmed immediately and Eddie looked way too pleased with himself. Steve noticed that too unfortunately. “Oh, this is disgusting.” You frowned. “I need a minute.” He grabbed the chips off your desk. “I supported this fake relationship for MONTHS.” “You literally encouraged the rumours.” “AS A JOKE.” He replied emphasising very word.  Eddie slung an arm around your shoulders lazily. “To be fair, Harrington, if it makes you feel better, she talks about you constantly.” Steve looked slightly touched for exactly half a second before Eddie added: “Mostly complaining.”

“Get out” He demands. “Last time I checked it was her house.” “GET OUT. You started laughing so hard you nearly fell over while Eddie grinned beside you and Steve looked seconds away from developing a migraine. And somehow, despite all the yelling, the arguments, and Steve threatening Eddie at least six different times before midnight Steve kind of basically approved of it.

Dividers Creds: @strangergraphics

"Ha ha." He sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees. "No, seriously. I was thinkin' about us. About how we do all this couple stuff." He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "But we ain't got the lingo down just yet."

You sighed, marking your page and looking at him. "What lingo?"

"Names," he said simply. "Ain't that what couples do? Give each other cringe-ass nicknames that make everyone else wanna gag?"

You stared at him. "You wanna give me a nickname?"

"I think it’s required." He stood up, cracking his neck. "Yeah. Gotta figure it out. The right one."

"You can just call me by my name, Gator."

"Nah. That’s borin’. That’s for strangers. Not someone who’s already seen you naked." He started pacing the small living room area. "I gotta find one that sticks. Somethin’ that fits you."

You rolled your eyes and went back to your book, deciding to ignore him. It was usually the best strategy with Gator when he got like this - wired and looking for entertainment. If you didn't engage beyond an occasional nod, he’d eventually get bored and sit back down.

But he didn't.

You felt him walk behind the couch, leaning over your shoulder. His breath was hot against your ear, smelling of gum and the faint, lingering scent of leather and gun oil from work

"Hey, baby," he whispered. The word was low, gravelly at the edges.

You stiffened slightly, turning the page even though you hadn't read a word of it. "Stop it."

"Sure thing, little lady," he tried again, moving to the other side of the couch so he was leaning over the arm rest to whisper into your other ear. "Kinda sounds like you should be on a horse or somethin’, huh?"

"Gator, knock it off," you said, swatting a hand out to push him away. He dodged it easily, laughing as you stood and retreated to the arm chair.

"What about… Princess?” He murmured, ignoring your hand. "Think you’re a princess? Certainly got the attitude for it, goddamn.”

He moved towards you with a restless, buzzing energy radiating off of him. It was like he was hunting something. If you knew one thing about Gator Tillman, it was that he was like a damn dog with a bone. Once he latched onto something, there was almost nothing you could do to get him to let it go.

"Sugar'," Gator whispered, kneeling down next to the chair, his fingers trailing over the back of your neck. A shiver went down your spine that you tried to suppress. “Ooh, you like that?”

“Shut up.”

"Okay, sweetheart." He was in front of you now, crouching down so his face was level with yours, invading your personal space. "That one's real classic. My old man uses it.”

You looked at him, exasperated. "Are you done yet?"

"Nope." He grinned, showing teeth. "None of 'em feel right yet. I need data."

"Data?" You almost laughed out loud at how seriously he was taking this.

"Yeah. Physical evidence." He stood up abruptly, grabbing your wrist and tugging you out of the chair. You stumbled, dropping your book onto the floor.

"Hey! What the fu-“

Gator didn't let go, steering you backward with surprising strength until your back hit the living room wall with a dull thud. He boxed you in, one hand by your head, the other resting on your hip, his body pressing close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Gator," you warned, though your voice lacked the bite you wanted it to have. Your heart was pounding a little harder now, adrenaline spiking.

"Pay attention," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. They were dark, pupils blown wide. "Need to see which one works."

"Works for what?"

"Which one gets you goin'." Gator’s expression was devious at his hand slid from your hip, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweatpants.

You inhaled sharply, grabbing his wrist to stop him, but he didn't pause. He just pushed his hand down, rough and demanding, sliding past the fabric of your panties until his fingers were pressed against you, right where you were already starting to warm up under his scrutiny and touch.

"Fucking Christ," you breathed, your grip on his wrist tightening, but you didn't pull him away. Not really.

"Relax," he teased, his voice dropping an octave. "Just testing a hypothesis."

“Pretty big word for a guy like you.”

“Think I’m stupid?”

“Just thought you mostly did monosyllables.”

His fingers moved, dragging through your folds, and he hummed in satisfaction when he felt how slick you were. "Well, well. Wouldja look at that. All ‘a this is doin’ somethin’ for you. "

You flushed, your face heating up. "Shut up."

"No, no, this is good." He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against your cheek. "Let's try again."

Gator slid a finger inside you, curling it just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. He watched your face intently.

"Baby girl," he whispered, the words slow and deliberate. He pumped his finger once, twice, watching your eyelids flutter. "Yeah? You like that one?"

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but your body betrayed you. Your hips tilted toward his hand instinctively, seeking more friction.

"M’kay. That’s a maybe," he continued, his voice a rough rasp against your ear.

“It’s not anything.”

"Quit lyin’," Gator withdrew his hand slightly, circling your clit with a maddening lightness that made your knees weak. "My sweet girl knows better than to lie to me, right?"

You let out a shaky breath, your head falling back against the wall. "Gator..."

"Say it," he demanded, pressing his thumb harder against you. "Which one?"

"I don't know," you gasped, your resolve crumbling under the steady rhythm of his hand.

"Liars get punished," he said, though there was no true malice in it, just a dark, playfulness. He added a second finger, stretching you, the sudden fullness drawing a low moan from your throat. "Come on. What one made you all like this for me? Or do you just like bein’ told what to do?”

You looked up at him, seeing the smug satisfaction written all over his face. He knew he had you. You felt exposed, pinned against the wall by his hips and his hand, completely at his mercy, and the terrifying part was that you liked it.

"I think," you managed to get out, your voice breathless, "I think you're enjoying this way too much."

"Damn right I am," Gator grinned, leaning in to bite gently at your pulse point. "Now hold still. If you ain’t gonna tell me, I’m gonna find out.”

He didn't give you a chance to recover, his wrist twisting so his palm cupped you possessively, grinding against you in a way that made your vision blur at the edges. The friction was electric, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine that made your knees threaten to buckle.

"You're trembling," he observed, his voice dropping to that low, insinuating rasp he used when he was about to do something reckless. He leaned his weight into you, pinning you harder against the plaster so you couldn't escape the rhythm of his hand. "Means it's working. But which one did it, huh? Was it sweet girl? Or are you just a slut for being manhandled?"

You opened your mouth to snap at him, tell him to get off his fucking high horse, but all that came out was a broken, pathetic moan when he curled his fingers just right, hitting a spot that made your toes curl in your socks. His grin widened, sharp and predatory, like a wolf that had cornered its prey and realized it didn't even need to chase.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he taunted, pressing his forehead against yours, forcing you to hold his gaze. You could see the calculation in his eyes, the way he was cataloging every gasp and flutter. He didn’t even seem like he was looking for a pet name anymore. "Look at you. Tryin’ to act all tough and independent. Then the second I get my hands on you, you turn into a fuckin’ puddle. It's cute. Or pathetic. Dunno, haven’t decided yet."

"Fuck you, Gator," you gasped, trying to find purchase to push him away, but your hands lacked conviction. Instead of shoving him, you were clinging to his flannel shirt, grounding yourself as he worked you over with ruthless efficiency.

"Language," he chided, though his tone was anything but disapproving. He pulled his fingers back, teasing you with the loss of fullness before sliding them back in, deeper this time, harder. "Think you can talk to me like that when I'm fuckin’ wrist-deep in you? Doesn't seem like you're in a position to negotiate, does it, babydoll?"

He punctuated the question with a rough thrust of his hand, the wet, obscene sound of his movements filling the small apartment. You felt heat flood your face, a mix of embarrassment and arousal that was dizzying. He was right, and you hated it. You were completely at his mercy, pinned to the wall by your own traitorous body.

"Wanna try another one?” Gator murmured, ignoring your frustrated glare. He moved his mouth to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin over your pulse point, nipping just hard enough to sting.

“No -“

"Darlin'," he drawled out the nickname, letting it hang in the air, thick with mockery. "Sounds real southern. Real gentlemanly. Does it make you feel special? What about honey? Nah, never mind. I don’t like that one.”

Gator didn't wait for a coherent response. He shifted his angle, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with agonizing slowness. Your breath hitched, your head falling back against the wall with a thud as you squeezed your eyes shut. The pleasure was building rapidly, a tight coil in your stomach that was winding tighter with every pass of his fingers.

"Open your damn eyes," he commanded sharply.

You forced your eyes open, vision swimming. He was watching you with an intensity that was almost frightening, like he was dissecting you.

"There she is," he said softly, though the smugness in his voice remained. "Damn, are you actually gonna let me get you off just by talkin’ to you?" He laughed, a breathy sound against your neck. "That’s fuckin' hilarious."

"Shut up," you whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily against his hand, seeking more of that friction, more of that pressure that was threatening to send you over the edge. You didn't care about his taunts anymore; you just needed him to keep going.

"Make me," he challenged, pulling his hand away slightly, denying you what you most wanted.

You let out a frustrated cry, hand flying out to grab his wrist, trying to force him back, but he was too strong. He held his ground, his fingers hovering at a cruel, teasing distance.

"Ask nicely," he said, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"No."

"Guess we're done here." He started to pull his hand out of your pants, the loss of warmth making you shiver.

"Wait," you blurted out, hating yourself for giving in. He stopped, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

"Go on," he prompted, his fingers twitching against your skin.

"Please," you gritted out, the word tasting like defeat.

"Please what?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot on your ear. "Please touch you? Please make you come? Or please call you my little princess?"

Gator emphasized the last word, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but as he said it, his hand was already effortlessly back into place and resuming that devastating pace. You groaned, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder, unable to hold yourself up anymore as the pleasure washed over you.

"Yeah, that's it," he crooned, his voice almost gentle now, though the undercurrent of mockery was still there. "Take it. Doin’ so good for me."

Gator’s free hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look at you again. His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with his own arousal, but the triumph in them was unmistakable. He owned you in this moment, and he knew it.

"You're so desperate," he whispered, his gaze dropping to watch his hand moving inside your sweats. "You really are my sweet girl, aren'tcha? So fuckin’ needy for me."

The combination of his voice in your ear, the grip on your jaw, and the relentless movement of his fingers was too much. The coil in your stomach snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You cried out, your body arching off the wall. Gator worked you through it, drawing it out until you were shaking, your breath ragged. When you finally slumped against him, spent, he didn't pull away immediately. He kept his hand where it was, feeling the aftershocks rippling through you, a smug satisfaction radiating off him.

"Well," he said, pulling his hand out slowly a few minutes later, the movement deliberate and lingering. He held your gaze as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, tasting you. "Think we found a winner."

You stared at him, your chest heaving and face burning. "You're an asshole, Gator."

"Yeah," he agreed, wiping his hand on his jeans with a casual disregard that made your flush deepen. "But I'm your asshole. And you know you loved it."

He leaned in, pressing a quick, hard kiss to your lips, stealing your breath before you could formulate a retort.

"So, sweet girl it is?" Gator asked, backing away with a grin that said he already knew the answer.

"Go to hell," you muttered, sliding down the wall until your ass hit the floor, your legs feeling like jelly.

"Awe, boo-hoo. I'll pick you up later," he winked, stepping over your discarded book and heading back to the couch like nothing had happened. "We ain't done watching the show."

You sat on the floor for a minute, letting your heart rate settle while Gator reclaimed his spot, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He kicked his legs up on the coffee table once more, exuding a cocky confidence that made your blood boil - in the best way, but still. He thought he’d won. He thought he was the one in control here.

Pushing yourself off the floor, you smoothed down your sweatpants, wincing slightly at the lingering sensitivity. You walked over to the couch and stood right in front of the TV, blocking his view.

"Move it," he complained. "You make a better door than a window."

You ignored him, straddling his lap before he could react. He grunted in surprise, his hands automatically coming to rest on your hips, but you caught his wrists, wrenching them away from your body and pinning them against the back of the couch.

"Whoa there,” he laughed, looking up at you with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "What's this? Round two?"

"Something like that," you murmured, leaning down so your face was only an inch or two from his. "You played your game, Gator. Now we're playing mine."

"Oh?" He challenged, though you felt his muscles tense under your grip. He wasn't used to being on this side of the pin. "What’dya want?"

"Remember how you said couples need nicknames?" You traced the line of his jaw with one hand, your touch light and teasing. "I think we need to find one for you, too."

Gator scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I ain't the sweetheart type."

"Didn't think you were," you agreed. You shifted your hips, grinding down against him experimentally as you released his writers. His breath hitched, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But everyone has a button, Gator. And I’m gonna find yours."

"Yeah, good luck with that," he smirked, trying to regain his composure, though you could feel him twitching beneath you. "I'm a simple man."

"We'll see." You leaned in, brushing your lips against his neck, right over the rapid pulse point. "How about... Cowboy?" You whispered, letting the word hang in the air.

He groaned, but it was a sound of annoyance rather than pleasure. "Don't start that shit. My old man called me that as a kid. Kills the mood."

"Noted." You moved lower, nipping at his collarbone. "How about... Handsome?"

"What am I, goin’ to my first communion? Are you my grandma?”

"Okay big guy?" You felt his stomach muscles contract as you laughed softly against his skin. "Tough guy?"

"You're runnin’ out of steam, sweetheart," he taunted, though his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer. "Just admit it, you can't fluster me."

You pulled back to look him in the eye, a slow smile spreading across your face. You could see the challenge in his brown eyes, the arrogance that made you want to wipe that smug look right off his face. You leaned in close, your lips ghosting over his ear, taking your time. You felt him tense up, waiting for the strike.

"Bad boy?"

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into your waist. "That's a given. Try harder."

You shifted again, deliberately rolling your hips against the growing hardness in his jeans. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his head falling back against the couch cushion. You had him now; you just had to find the right key.

"Daddy?" you suggested, dragging the word out.

"Absolutely not," he choked out, his eyes flying open. "Christ. Don't ever fuckin' say that again. Weirds me out."

"Okay, okay," you soothed, secretly relieved because you didn’t want to have to call him that.

You ran your hands down his chest, feeling the way his heart was beating against his ribs. He was affected, more than he wanted to admit. He liked the chase, but he wasn't used to being the prey.

Then, a thought struck you. All the times you'd seen him with his dad, the way he sought approval, the way he bristled at authority but secretly craved some direction. You thought about the way he looked at you sometimes, like he wanted you to tell him what to do. He talked a big game, but you knew he’d secretly do anything to see a trace of happiness from you.

"Hmm," you hummed, pretending to think. "You try so hard, don't you? Always acting out, always making noise." You leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth. "But I know what you really are."

"Yeah?" he rasped, his voice rough and husky. "And what's that?"

You moved your mouth to his other ear, tugging at his earlobe lightly with your teeth before your voice dropped to a whisper that was barely audible.

"My good boy."

The reaction was instantaneous. Gator froze, his entire body going rigid beneath you. A sound tore from his throat - half-groan, half-whimper - and his eyes squeezed shut as if he’d been struck with dizziness. You felt him twitch violently against your core, his hardness pressing up against you, undeniable and sudden.

"Awe, you alright there, Gator?" You pulled back to see his face. He was flushed - lips parted and chest heaving. When he opened his eyes, the pupils were blown so wide the chocolatey color was just a thin rim. He looked utterly wrecked, and it delighted you.

"Say it again," he breathed, voice cracking.

You whispered the words once more, watching him shiver.

"Fuck," he hissed, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he pressed several kisses against you.

"Oh, you like that?" you teased, though you were secretly thrilled by how easily he’d crumbled. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his nails lightly against his scalp, and he practically purred. "You like being my good boy?"

"Y-yeah," he admitted, the word muffled against your neck. He was practically nuzzling into you, seeking friction, completely abandoning his earlier bravado. "I like it."

"That's because you are, aren't you?" you cooed, tightening your grip in his hair and pulling his head back so he had to look at you. "Deep down. All that attitude. Your gun and badge... But you just want to be told you're doing good, dontcha?”

He stared up at you, his eyes wide and glassy, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a desperate, pleading need that made your stomach flip. The power rush was intoxicating. You’d never seen him like this - pliable, eager, submissive. It was like finding a secret weapon.

"I am," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm good. I'll be so good for you."

His hands scrambled for purchase on your hips, his grip bruising as he tried to pull you down harder, but you held back, keeping the pace maddeningly slow.

"Please," he whimpered, actually whimpered. The sound went straight to your core. "Please let me..."

"Let you what?" You asked, enjoying the way he was squirming beneath you.

"Touch you," he gasped. "Fuck you. Don’t care. Anythin’. Just... Say it again."

You leaned down, kissing him deeply, swallowing his moan. When you pulled back, you brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

"Good boy," you whispered.

You and Nancy sit on your respective beds, her voice filling the room while you try, desperately, to focus on reading The Feminine Mystique for the Advanced Lit paper due on Monday. 

“Ohhh my god—”

“Oh. my. GOD. Nance, seriously? You can have this conversation literally anywhere else.”

She pauses, lowering the phone and covering it with her palm. “And you can read anywhere else.”

You huff a loud, dramatic breath before lifting the book back to your face, desperately trying to cover the loudest eye roll you’ve ever done. 

She carries on gossiping, giggling about Steve and his impending rise to Varsity basketball captain. That is, if Billy Hargrove doesn’t bulldoze his way into it first. Not that you care about Hawkins High’s sacred basketball throne.

You exhale another long sigh and place the book down in your lap, seconds away from giving her another comment, before a tap at your window stills both of you. 

Both of your heads snap to see Steve, arms resting on the outside of the sill, cheeky grin plastered across his face. 

“I’ll uh—I’ll call you later,” Nancy says before placing the phone in the holster, giddily walking over to the window. 

“Steve!” she hisses, though there’s no real threat behind it. “You can’t be here, what if my parents—”

“Isn’t Ted already asleep? And isn’t it your mom’s Friday night bubblebath and chardonnay routine?” 

She giggles, glancing over her shoulder at you. You sigh, already standing to grab your jacket from the back of the door and your shoes from the closet.

“You sure you don’t mind?” She asks, as if it really makes a difference. Either way, you suffer.

If you say “yes, Nancy, as a matter of fact, I do mind,” she will pout the second he leaves, and you have to listen to her bitching and moaning about how she misses him. 

And if you say “No Nancy, it’s okay!” you’ll have to sit through Steve and her pawing at each other while you’re “not paying attention.” 

Either way, all signs point to a graceful exit, going to the one place you always find solace in: the town park.

Specifically, the town park after dark. No kids, no noise, just you, your book, and a cigarette with your name on it. Perfect bliss; quiet, dark, and entirely yours.

You wave in Steve and exchange places with him, waving a final dramatic gesture before you scale down the trellis. 

The grass is still a little damp from the afternoon rain, soaking faintly through the soles of your sneakers as you cut across the park. 

Hawkins at night always feels like something softer, like the whole town is holding its breath instead of buzzing the way it does in daylight. You prefer it this way.

You find your usual bench tucked beneath the old oak, the one far enough from the streetlamps that it feels almost private, but not so hidden that it’s unsettling.

Your bag drops beside you with a soft thud, and you settle in, pulling your book back out like you never left it. The Feminine Mystique falls open easily, spine already bending to your will from overuse. 

You smooth a hand over the page, but before you start reading, you reach into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette and your lighter.

A practiced flick, a small flame, and the quiet inhale.

You let the smoke sit in your lungs for a second before exhaling slowly, watching it curl into the night air. It feels like exhaling everything else, too. 

Nancy’s voice, Steve’s stupid grin, the constant feeling of being just slightly out of place in your own house.

From your bag, you pull the small flask, unscrewing the cap with a faint metallic click.

Cheap wine, stolen from the back of your mom's not-so-secret "secret stash" in the back of the kitchen cabinet. You take a quick sip, nose scrunching slightly at the bite, then settle back against the bench.

Book in one hand. A cigarette in the other. Flask resting against your thigh. Perfect.

You actually managed to get through a paragraph this time before—

“Well, shit.”

Your head lifts immediately, eyes narrowing just slightly as you turn toward the voice. He’s leaning against the tree like he’s been there the whole time.

Or like he just appeared.

Leather jacket. Chains catching what little light there is. That messy halo of curls that somehow looks intentional even when it definitely isn’t. And his eyes, wide for a split second, like he didn’t expect to actually see you.

Eddie pushes himself off the tree slowly, hands coming up like he’s been caught doing something he probably shouldn’t be.

“Didn’t mean to—uh,” he gestures vaguely between you, the bench, the cigarette, the whole scene. “Interrupt your… whole vibe you’ve got going on here.”

You stare at him for a second, then another.

Because, yeah, you know him. Everyone knows him. The freak, the drug dealer, the guy parents warn their kids about, like he’s some kind of urban legend. Hellfire Club. Lunch table speeches. The whole thing.

But up close? He’s different. And annoyingly attractive.

You take another slow drag from your cigarette, eyes still on him as you exhale.

“Were you just lurking in the shadows, or is that a new hobby you’re trying out?”

There’s a flicker of something like surprise across his face. Then a grin, crooked and immediate.

“Hey, I prefer the term mysteriously existing,” he says, stepping a little closer but still keeping his distance, like there’s an invisible line he’s not sure he’s allowed to cross. “Lurking sounds way creepier.”

“Debatable.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I didn’t think anyone else came out here this late,” he admits, glancing around the empty park before looking back at you.

“Usually just me and my incredibly profound thoughts about, you know, life. And stuff.”

“‘And stuff’, sounds deep,” you deadpan.

“Thank you, I work very hard on my intellectual image.”

Your lips twitch despite yourself.

His eyes flick down briefly, to the book in your hand, the cigarette, the flask, and then back up to your face.

“…You’re Wheeler’s sister.” It’s not a question.

You raise a brow. “Observant.”

He winces, just a little. “Yeah, that came out way less cool than it sounded in my head.”

“You had a cool version of that?”

“Oh, absolutely. Smooth. Mysterious. Possibly British.”

That pulls a small laugh out of you, quicker than you expect. His expression softens at the sound, like he’s quietly relieved.

“I, uh—I’ve seen you around,” he adds, more careful now. “You’re not… like, Nancy.”

You tilt your head slightly. “That obvious?”

He shrugs, a little sheepish. “Not in a bad way. Just—different. You don’t look like you’d survive a pep rally without committing a felony.”

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t.”

That earns you a full laugh this time, loud enough it echoes faintly through the empty park.

“Jesus,” he mutters, grinning. “Okay. Didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah?” you say, taking another sip from your flask, then holding it up slightly. “What did you expect?”

He hesitates, like actually hesitates. Like he’s weighing whether he should say it.

“Honestly?” he says finally, softer now. “I thought you’d be more like Nancy. You are Wheelers, after all.”

You glance away for a second, watching the smoke drift instead of looking at him.

“Funny,” you murmur. “I’ve spent most of my life feeling like the extra Wheeler.”

When you look back at him, something in his expression has changed again.

“Well,” he says, after a beat, shifting his weight as he gestures toward the empty space beside you on the bench, “for what it’s worth… I think the extra Wheeler is way more interesting.”

You hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. Then you tilt your head slightly toward the empty space beside you.

“Sit,” you say simply.

There’s a flicker of surprise across Eddie’s face, like he wasn’t entirely convinced you’d invite him at all. But he recovers quickly, pushing off the tree and making his way over.

Careful, though; always a little careful. Like he’s still expecting you to change your mind halfway through.

He drops onto the bench, leaving just enough space between you to be polite. You take another drag from your cigarette, then glance at him from the corner of your eye.

“May I?” he asks, nodding toward it. Polite, unexpectedly so.

You raise a brow, studying him for half a second before handing it over without a word.

He takes it carefully, like it’s something more valuable than it is, bringing it to his lips and inhaling. When he exhales, the smoke curls around him, catching in the low light like something almost cinematic.

“Didn’t peg you as the sharing type,” he says, glancing over.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m starting to see that.”

You take a sip from your flask, letting the silence sit comfortably for a moment before…

“I thought you’d be mean,” you admit, eyes forward.

He chokes on a quiet laugh, turning toward you. “Mean?”

“And scary,” you add, finally looking at him. “You know. Cult leader. Devil worship. Sacrificial rituals behind the gym.”

“Ah, yeah, Wednesdays at five,” he nods seriously. “You just missed it.”

Your lips twitch.

“But no,” you continue, softer now, “people talk.”

He shrugs, passing the cigarette back to you.

“People love to talk,” he says. “Usually about shit they don’t understand.”

You take it from him, bringing it back to your lips.

“I thought you were mean too,” he adds after a beat.

That makes you pause. “Me?”

He nods, a little sheepish but not backing down. “Yeah. Thought you’d be one of those—” he gestures vaguely, searching for the word, “intimidating, untouchable types.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head.

“Untouchable,” you repeat, like the word tastes strange.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he says quickly, grinning. “You’ve got the whole thing going on. The hair, the attitude, the—” he motions toward your book, “—mysterious intellectual vibe.”

“Mysterious intellectual vibe,” you echo. “That’s new.”

“I’m workshopping it.”

You glance at him, immediately starting to see beyond the facade. The way he talks with his hands.

The way his eyes flick to you and then away, like he’s trying not to stare too long. The way he’s trying, even when he pretends not to.

“And here I thought you’d be something terrifying,” you say lightly.

“Oh, I am,” he shoots back immediately. “Just not, like… evil terrifying. More… misunderstood terrifying.”

“Tragic,” you murmur.

“Deeply.”

He leans back against the bench, one arm draped along the backrest behind you, not quite touching, but close enough that you feel it.

“You read that stuff for fun?” he asks, nodding toward your book again.

“For a paper,” you say. “But I don’t hate it.”

“Yeah?” he hums. “What’s it about?”

You glance down at the worn cover, then back at him.

“Women being miserable in their perfectly curated suburban lives.”

He snorts. “Sounds familiar.”

You raise a brow. “Oh?”

He gestures vaguely toward the direction of your house. “Big houses, nice lawns, picket fences… everyone pretending they’re not losing their minds.”

You smile, slow and knowing. Your knee shifts just slightly, brushing his for a split second before settling again. Neither of you moves away.

After a moment, he tilts his head toward you, studying you in that not-subtle way of his.

“So,” Eddie starts, voice light, “what’re you doing out here, anyway?”

You hum softly, like you have to think about it, even though you don’t.

“Escaping,” you say, taking a small sip from your flask. “Mrs. Perfect and Mr. Perfect are busy ‘studying’ for chemistry.”

He lets out a quiet snort, already catching on.

“Right,” he nods. “Studying. Very academic of them.”

“Extremely,” you deadpan. “I’m sure there are flashcards involved.”

He grins at that, shaking his head.

“Didn’t he fail chemistry?” he asks, glancing at you.

You turn your head slowly, eyes narrowing just a touch. “Didn’t you?”

His hand flies to his chest like you’ve just mortally wounded him.

“Wow,” he breathes, dramatically offended. “Okay. First of all—rude.”

“Second of all?” you prompt.

“Second of all, I didn’t fail,” he insists. “I simply have a complicated relationship with the American education system.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s mutual,” he adds. “They don’t understand me, I don’t understand them. Very tragic.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you look back out toward the empty park.

“Sounds like you just didn’t do the work.”

“Wow,” he repeats, pointing at you now. “You’re really coming for me tonight.”

“You started it.”

“I asked a simple question!”

“And got a simple answer.”

He huffs out a laugh, leaning back again, that crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“You know,” he says, glancing over at you, “you’re actually a lot meaner than your sister.”

“Good.”

That catches him off guard for a split second, then his grin widens.

“Yeah,” he says, a little quieter now. “Yeah, I think I like that.”

You glance at him, just briefly, before looking away again, but there’s a hint of something warmer sitting in your expression now.

Just the two of you, sitting a little closer than before, the space between you shrinking without either of you really acknowledging it.

“You always ditch them like that?” he asks after a moment.

“Pretty much,” you shrug. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m not sticking around to be the accidental third wheel in someone else’s soft-core, soft-porn romance.”

He chokes on a laugh at that, actually coughing a little. “Jesus, okay—yeah, that’s fair.”

You smirk slightly, bringing the flask back to your lips. “Figured you’d understand.”

“Oh, I definitely understand,” he says. “I’ve spent most of high school watching people make terrible decisions in dimly lit rooms.”

“Observation or participation?”

He grins, all teeth this time. “Observation,” he says. “Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you repeat, skeptical.

“Hey,” he lifts his hands in surrender, “I’m a gentleman.”

“Debatable.”

“Wow,” he says again, but he’s laughing now, shaking his head. “You really had me pegged all wrong, huh?”

You glance at him, eyes flicking over his face, the way his hair falls, the way he’s still half-guarded even when he’s joking.

“Maybe,” you admit. Then, softer, “Or maybe I just never actually looked.”

He doesn’t joke this time. Just watches you for a second longer than usual, something a little more thoughtful settling in.

“Well,” he says, after a beat, voice quieter but still warm, “kinda glad you are now.”

“You know,” he says, glancing at you with that crooked grin, “for someone who ditched a perfectly good ‘study session,’ you seem pretty content out here.”

“Perfectly good is generous,” you murmur. “I’m sure they’re doing very rigorous academic work.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Real hands-on learning.”

You snort softly, shaking your head. “Jealous?” you tease.

“Of Harrington?” he scoffs. “Please. I’ve got way better hair.”

You turn, eyeing him deliberately, letting your gaze drag just enough to make your point.

“…Debatable.”

He freezes for half a second, then laughs under his breath.

“Wow. You wound me.”

“I’m just saying,” you shrug lightly, lips twitching. “The competition’s stiff.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he says, leaning in just slightly, voice dropping like it’s suddenly just for you. “But I’ve got my strengths.”

Your stomach does something annoying at that.

“Yeah?” you say, lifting a brow.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t elaborate.

You take another sip from your flask, then pause. Tilt it again, nothing. You frown slightly, giving it a little shake like that’s going to magically fix the situation.

“Jesus,” you mutter, squinting into it. “I think I’m drunk.”

You tip it upside down for emphasis; empty, completely.

Eddie watches this unfold, trying very hard not to laugh.

“Yeah,” he says carefully, “I was gonna say, you’ve been hitting that thing like it personally offended you.”

You glance at him, unimpressed. “It did.”

“Of course it did.”

You huff, leaning back again, head tipping slightly toward the sky. The world doesn’t spin, exactly, but it’s looser. You’re also more aware of him next to you in a way that’s hard to ignore.

“C’mon,” he says after a second, gentler now. “I’ll walk you home.”

You turn your head toward him, narrowing your eyes just slightly. “I can walk.”

“I’m sure you can,” he says easily. “But you might end up in, like, Illinois.”

“Tempting.”

“Yeah, but I feel like your sister would hunt me down, and I’m trying to avoid that whole situation.”

“Fine.”

He stands with you immediately, like he was already planning to.

The walk is quiet at first. Your shoulder brushes his once, then again. Halfway down the block, you shiver slightly, the night air finally cutting through.

Without a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders before you can argue.

It’s warm. Smells faintly like smoke and something distinctly him. You pull it a little tighter around yourself, glancing up at him.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You walk a little closer after that.

When you reach your house, the lights are low, the whole place quiet in that heavy, late-night way. You hesitate on the lawn for half a second.

“Guess this is me,” you say.

“Guess it is.”

Neither of you moves right away.

“I’ll see you around?” he asks, trying for casual and almost pulling it off.

You look at him, almost astonished at the soft porch light catching in his hair, in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say. “You will.”

That’s enough for him. He steps back, giving you just enough space to climb back up the trellis, watching until you make it to the window safely.

Inside, it’s dim, quiet. You land softly on the floor, slipping your shoes off immediately. And then—You freeze. Because there they are.

Nancy and Steve, asleep.

You stare at them for a long, unimpressed moment. Nancy curled up against him, Steve half-sprawled like he owned the place.

You blink once, twice. Then you walk over and smack his leg, hard enough to wake him.

“Hey,” you whisper sharply. “Romeo.”

He jolts awake, blinking up at you in confusion. “Jesus—what—?”

“Get out.”

He squints at you, still half-asleep. “What?”

“You heard me,” you say, already moving to pull your jacket off. “Out.”

Nancy stirs beside him, mumbling something incoherent. You glance at her, your expression softening for just a second, then back to Steve.

“Go home,” you tell him, quieter now but no less firm. “Before my dad wakes up and kills you.”

He groans, pushing himself up carefully, trying not to wake Nancy fully.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters. “Hostile environment…”

“Extremely.”

He shoots you a look, but there’s no real bite behind it as he climbs back out the window. You wait until he’s gone before turning back.

Nancy shifts again, pulling the blanket closer. You sigh softly, grabbing it and tugging it up properly around her shoulders.

You stand there for a second, watching her. Then shake your head, muttering under your breath as you grab your things.

“Unbelievable.” But there’s no real heat in it, just habit. And maybe, somewhere underneath it, care.

Monday mornings at Hawkins High always feel louder than they should.

Lockers slam. Someone’s laughing too hard down the hall. The fluorescent lights hum overhead like they’ve got something against you personally. It’s all a little too much, a little too bright, a little too on.

You lean against the row of lockers, shoulder pressed beside Nancy’s as she twists the dial on hers, already mid-conversation with Steve.

“I’m just saying,” Steve is going on, running a hand through his hair like he’s in a shampoo commercial, “if Coach sees the way I’ve been playing lately, captain is basically a done deal.”

Nancy hums, halfway listening, pulling out a notebook. “Unless Billy—”

“—is overrated,” Steve cuts in quickly. “Thank you, Nance, glad you agree.” She gives him a look.

You hum faintly, not really listening, flipping open your book more for something to do than anything else.

“Hey, Wheeler.”

Your stomach drops just slightly, and you look up. Eddie stands a few feet away, trying for casual and only half pulling it off.

His eyes find yours immediately, like they knew exactly where to look.

You straighten just a little. “Munson.”

He nods once, stepping closer, hand coming out of his jacket pocket.

“You, uh… forgot something on Friday,” he says, holding it out.

A ring, one hundred percent one of his. A small smile forms as you look between his face and the ring. You don’t hesitate.

“Right,” you say, like it makes perfect sense, reaching out and taking it from him. “I was wondering where that went.”

There’s the smallest flicker of surprise in his eyes, then he’s grinning.

“Yeah?” he says, playing along instantly. “Figured you might miss it.”

“Sentimental value,” you shrug, slipping it onto your finger like it belongs there. “Can’t just lose things like this.” Your fingers brush his for a second longer than necessary.

Steve is staring. Nancy is staring. Eddie notices.

“Good thing I found it, then,” he says, voice dipping just slightly, something more intentional in it now.

“Good thing,” you echo.

There’s a beat where neither of you looks away. Then he leans back just a fraction, like he’s remembering where he is.

“I’ll, uh, see you around,” he adds, a little softer.

You nod, maybe a little too quickly. “Yeah,” you say. “See you.”

He lingers for half a second longer, then turns, disappearing back into the hallway like he was never there. Except he very much was.

The second he’s out of earshot, “Okay,” Steve says slowly. “What was that?”

You open your book again like nothing happened. “Nothing.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything right away, which is how you know it’s bad.

“…You’re blushing.”

You freeze. “I’m not—”

“You are,” she says, turning fully toward you now, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Oh, my god.”

“I am not blushing.”

“Your face is totally red.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“It is not warm in here.”

Steve leans in, squinting at you like he’s inspecting evidence. “…You are kind of red.”

You snap your book shut, shooting them both a look. “Can you both relax?”

Nancy crosses her arms, clearly not letting this go. “Since when are you and Eddie Munson—”

“We’re not,” you cut in quickly.

She raises a brow. “Is that not his ring?”

You glance down at your hand. Right. The ring.

“It’s mine,” you say.

Nancy stares at you. Then lets out a short, incredulous laugh.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re so lying.”

Steve, for once, looks entertained instead of confused. You groan, dragging a hand over your face.

“It’s not a thing.”

“Mhmm.”

“It’s not.”

Nancy just smiles, slow and knowing in a way that makes your stomach twist. “Sure,” she says lightly. “Whatever you say.”

You look back down at your book, trying very hard to focus on the words in front of you.  But all you can think about is the way he looked at you. And the fact that, yeah, you were definitely blushing.

By the end of the day, you feel like this day has wrung you out. The halls are quieter now, lockers hanging open, scraps of conversation echoing as people trickle out. 

You lean against your car in the parking lot, keys dangling from your fingers, watching the last of the crowd filter out like you’re waiting for something. Or someone.

You don’t let yourself think too hard about that part.

“Hey.”

You glance over to see Nancy jogging up to you, bag slung over her shoulder, hair slightly windblown like she’s been rushing.

“Hey.”

She slows when she reaches you, giving you a look, that look, that she’s been giving you all day.

You sigh immediately. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She smiles, just a little too pleased with herself.

“Anyway,” she says, shifting her bag, “I’m going with Steve. We have… somewhere to be.”

You stare at her for a second. “Somewhere,” you repeat flatly.

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything,” you shrug. “I’m just deeply intrigued by this mysterious commitment you both seem to have.”

She rolls her eyes, nudging your arm. “Very funny.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you drive Mike home?”

You blink. “From where?”

“Hellfire.”

You let out a slow breath, already knowing where this is going. “Of course he’s at Hellfire.”

“He needs a ride,” she says, like that explains everything. “And Mom thinks I’m taking him home.”

You turn your head slowly, narrowing your eyes at her. “So you’re not taking him.”

She winces, just slightly. “I would,” she says quickly, “but Steve and I—”

“—have somewhere to be,” you finish for her.

“Exactly.” 

You stare at her, and she smiles. You sigh, long and dramatic, pushing yourself off the car.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” she says immediately, relief washing over her face.

“You owe me.”

“I know.”

“And if Mom asks, I drove him.”

“Obviously.”

“Hey, Nance?”

She turns back.

“Try actually studying this time.”

She scoffs, cheeks pinkening just slightly. “Shut up.”

You grin, walking towards the school. “Have fun.”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling as she heads off, already spotting Steve walking towards his car. 

The drama wing is quieter than the rest of the school, tucked far enough away that the noise fades into something distant and dull.

You’re stretched out across one of the benches in the hallway, legs dangling off the side, book resting against your chest.

One arm hangs lazily over your stomach, the other holding your place on the page as you read. Or pretend to read, rather. 

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and every now and then, you catch the rise and fall of voices behind the closed drama room doors. Dice clatter. Someone shouts. A chorus of groans follows.

Eventually, the door bursts open.

Noise floods the hallway all at once as a cluster of boys spills out, mid-argument, mid-laugh, mid-everything. Backpacks slung over shoulders, voices overlapping, the energy loud and chaotic in a way that feels entirely contained to them.

“—I’m telling you, that was a terrible move—”

“It was strategic!”

“It got us killed!”

Your eyes don’t lift from the page. Not right away.

“…Holy shit.”

The voice is quieter than the rest. Closer. Your lips twitch faintly as a shadow falls over you.

You don’t move. Don’t look. Not until—

“What are you doing out here, Wheeler?” comes that familiar voice, hovering somewhere just above you.

You tilt your head back slightly, and there he is.

Eddie is leaning over you, hands braced on the bench on either side of your shoulders, curls falling forward just enough to frame his face as he looks down at you.

Upside down, and way too close for it to be casual. Your heart does something annoying. You close your book slowly, using it to nudge lightly against his chest.

“Waiting for my brother,” you say.

His brow lifts. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You always wait like this?” he asks, glancing down at the way you’re sprawled across the bench.

“Comfortably?”

“Dramatically.”

You hum, considering. “Depends who I’m trying to impress.”

A grin pulls at his mouth, slow and crooked. “Well,” he says, leaning just a fraction closer, “it’s working.”

Your breath catches, just for a second. Then you recover, lifting a brow. “Good.”

Behind him, the rest of the group has mostly filtered out, except for one very familiar voice.

“…Oh my god.”

Mike is standing a few feet away, staring at the two of you like he’s just witnessed something deeply disturbing.

“What are you doing here?” he demands.

You don’t break eye contact with Eddie. “Picking you up.”

Mike makes a face. “Why are you—” he gestures vaguely between the two of you, “—like that?”

Eddie glances back over his shoulder, then down at you again, clearly amused.

“Like what?” he asks innocently.

“Like that,” Mike repeats, horrified. “Can you not—like—hover over my sister?”

You finally sit up a little, just enough to ease the situation, not that you really want to.

“Relax, Mike.”

“I am relaxed,” he says immediately. “I just don’t like this. It’s like, gross.”

Eddie straightens, but he doesn’t step far. Still close, still in your space in a way that feels intentional now.

“Your sister’s cool,” he says, like that’s supposed to help.

Mike groans. “Great. Awesome. That makes it worse.”

You snort softly, slipping your book back into your bag as you stand. “Ready to go?” you ask him.

“Yes,” he says quickly. “Right now. Immediately.”

You glance back at Eddie, just for a second. He’s already looking at you, naturally. 

“I’ll see you around,” he says, a little quieter now.

You tilt your head, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Yeah,” you reply. “You will.”

Mike makes another deeply pained noise behind you. “Can we please go?”

You roll your eyes, wrapping your arm around his shoulder as you head down the hall. 

The house is quiet in that familiar, late-night way. Floorboards creak if you step in the wrong spot. The hallway light hums faintly. Somewhere downstairs, the TV is still on low, your dad having inevitably fallen asleep in his chair.

You’re in bed: book open, lamp on, and not reading a single word. Because your attention keeps drifting to the window. You don’t know why you’re expecting anything. You just are.

A soft tap finally comes, barely there, like whoever’s outside isn’t entirely sure they should be. Your head lifts immediately. You sit up, already moving toward the window, pushing the curtain aside, and then you blink.

Because it’s not who you expected.

Steve is perched outside your window like he owns the place, one arm braced on the sill, looking far too comfortable for someone breaking in.

He grins the second he sees you. “Hey.”

You just stare at him. “…You’ve got the wrong Wheeler.”

He laughs quietly. “Yeah, I know. Nancy said to come around back, but the window was closer.”

“Shocking,” you deadpan. “Truly.”

He glances past you into the room. “Is she awake?”

You jerk your thumb toward the hallway. “Bathroom.”

“Perfect.”

He starts to climb in, and then another voice cuts in from below.

“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Both of you freeze. You lean out slightly, looking down, and there he is.

Eddie, halfway hidden in the shadows near the base of the trellis, looks up with a mix of disbelief and something that looks a lot like irritation.

Steve squints down at him. “…Munson?”

Eddie gestures vaguely upward. “Yeah. Hi. Didn’t realize there was, like, a schedule.”

You press your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh.

Steve, meanwhile, straightens slightly, fully committing to the bit.

“Occupied,” he says, nodding toward the window like he’s guarding it.

Eddie blinks. “Occupied,” he repeats flatly.

“Occupied,” Steve confirms.

Eddie lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Wow. Okay. That’s—yeah. That’s great.”

You lean further out the window now, resting your elbows on the sill.

“You gonna stand down there all night, or…?”

His eyes flick up to you immediately, expression shifting the second he sees you.

“Depends,” he says. “You planning on making this a double booking situation?”

Steve scoffs. “Absolutely not.”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself back from the window. “Hold on.”

Steve looks at you. “What are you—”

“Don’t fall,” you say dryly, already heading for your door.

You slip into the hallway, quiet and quick, knocking once on the bathroom door.

Nancy’s voice comes through, muffled. “What?”

“Your boyfriend’s here,” you hiss.

“Just let him in!”

“Gladly.”

You head back, swinging your window open wider. “Alright, Romeo,” you say, gesturing Steve inside. “You’re clear for entry.”

He grins, climbing in as he’s done a hundred times before.

“Much appreciated.”

You glance out the window again, and Eddie’s still there. You hold his gaze for a second, then tilt your head, just slightly. Meet me.

His mouth quirks immediately, like he gets it without you saying a word.

You slip out of your room, quieter this time, grabbing your jacket on the way and easing down the stairs. The back door clicks softly behind you as you step out into the night.

He’s already there when you round the corner of the house, leaning against his van.

“Didn’t realize I had competition,” he says as you approach.

“Relax,” you reply. “He’s here for Nancy.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he mutters. “Still rude.”

You laugh softly, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “What were you even doing here?”

He shrugs. “Drove by. Thought I’d see if the mysterious, intellectual, ring-stealing Wheeler was around.”

You smirk slightly. “Lucky you.”

“Very,” he says, pushing off the van and stepping closer.

“Wanna get outta here?” he asks.

You glance back at the house once, lights low, everything quiet, then back at him.

“…Yeah.”

His grin spreads, quick and bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

That’s all it takes. He moves around to the passenger side, pulling the door open for you like it’s second nature.

You climb in, settling onto the worn seat, the familiar smell of smoke and leather wrapping around you again.

“Where to?” you ask.

He glances over at you as he starts the engine. “My place,” he says. “If you’re not too scared.”

You lean back, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’ll survive.”

Eddie’s van crunches to a stop in front of his place, engine ticking as it cools. You don’t move right away, and neither does he.

Then he glances over, a small grin pulling at his mouth. “Home sweet home.”

You look out the window, taking it in. “Cute,” you say lightly.

He snorts. “Wow. Brutal.”

“I mean it,” you add, pushing the door open. “It has character.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, climbing out on his side. “That’s what people say when they’re trying to be nice.”

You round the front of the van, bumping the door shut with your hip. “I’m always nice.”

“Liar.” You smile.

Inside, his room is exactly what you expected, and not, all at once.

Dim lighting, a clutter of tapes and records, a guitar leaned against the wall, posters layered over each other like they’ve been there forever. It smells faintly like smoke, like him.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, tossing his keys down somewhere without looking.

You do, dropping onto his bed like you’ve been here before, shrugging off his jacket but not moving it too far from you.

He notices, and there’s a moment where he just… looks at you. Then he shakes himself out of it, moving toward the small table, rummaging around before pulling out a joint and a lighter.

He glances back over his shoulder. “You smoke?”

You lift a brow. “You’ve seen me smoke.”

“Yeah, cigarettes,” he says, holding it up. “This is different.”

You tilt your head, considering for half a second before, “Depends,” you say. “You offering?”

His grin comes back immediately. “Always.”

He crosses the space between you, dropping down onto the bed beside you. Not too close, but definitely closer than before. Close enough that your knees almost brush.

He lights it, takes the first drag, then passes it over. Your fingers brush again. It seems to be becoming a pattern.

You bring it to your lips, inhaling slowly, the smoke harsher, heavier than what you’re used to. You cough a little on the exhale, turning your head away slightly.

He laughs softly. “Easy, Wheeler.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, though there’s no bite to it, handing it back.

“I warned you.”

“You did not.”

“I implied.”

“Poorly.”

He grins, taking another drag. The room settles into something slower after that, quieter. You lean back onto his bed, head tipping slightly as you watch him from the side.

“What?” he asks, catching you.

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re just…” You trail off, like you’re not sure you want to say it.

“Just what?”

You shrug, lips twitching. “Not what I expected.”

“Yeah?” he says, echoing you from earlier, a little softer now.

“Yeah.”

He studies you for a second, then leans back too, mirroring you without realizing it. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Depends.”

“Are you and Nancy, like…” he gestures vaguely between his own face, “identical twins?”

You choke. Actually choke this time, coughing hard as the smoke catches in your throat.

“Oh my—are you serious?” you manage between coughs.

He’s already laughing, hand coming up instinctively like he might help, then stopping himself.

“What? It’s a valid question!”

“It’s not,” you insist, wiping under your eye. “Have you seen us?”

“I have!” he says defensively. “You look similar!”

“Barely!”

“Okay, not identical identical,” he amends quickly. “But like close enough that I had to check.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. “God, no. We’re just twins.”

“Fraternal,” he says, nodding like he’s learned something important.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, I try.”

“You’re definitely the cooler one,” he adds.

You glance at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“Oh, I absolutely won’t,” he says. “I value my life.”

You laugh again, softer this time, the sound lingering between you. The joint passes back and forth, slower now. Your shoulders brush, then stay. Neither of you moves away.

At some point, your hand ends up resting on the space of the mattress between you, and his is already there. Fingers close enough to touch, but not quite. 

“You know,” he says quietly, eyes flicking down to your hand, then back up, “you’re not what I expected either.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice has changed.

You turn toward him fully now, closer than before, without really deciding to be.

“What did you expect?” you ask.

He hesitates, not in a joking way, but in a real way.

“Like… I shouldn’t even bother.”

That does something to you; something warm and a little dangerous. You shift just slightly closer, your knee brushing his, staying there.

“Maybe you should’ve,” you say, just as quietly. His breath catches; you can see it. Hell, you can feel it.

The space between you shrinks without either of you naming it. His eyes flick to your lips, then back up. Like he’s asking. Like he’s not sure.

But you don’t pull away. You don’t say anything. You just stay, gaze meeting his. That’s all the permission he needs. He leans in slowly, giving you time to stop him. You don’t.

The kiss is soft at first, careful. Like he’s still half convinced you might disappear if he moves too fast.

Your hand lifts without thinking, brushing against his jaw, steadying him as you kiss him back, just as gentle, just as unsure for a split second.

Then less unsure, then not unsure at all. His hand finds your waist, light, grounding. The room feels smaller, warmer. Everything else fades out a little.

When you pull back, it’s not far. Foreheads almost touching, breath still uneven.

“…Not scary,” you murmur.

He huffs a soft laugh, eyes still on yours. “Told you.”

You smile, just barely. “Maybe I was wrong about you.”

“Maybe,” he says, just as softly. But he doesn’t move away, and neither do you. Instead, he lifts your chin and brings your lips to his again.

The kiss lingers, softer than you expected, but it quickly turns deeper. Eddie’s hand stays at your waist, fingers pressing in like he’s grounding himself.

You shift closer on the bed, one leg sliding over his, and the old mattress groans loudly under you both. He laughs against your mouth, the sound low and rough.

“Fuckin’ bed,” he mutters, not pulling away. “Always cockblocking me.”

You snort, nipping at his bottom lip. “Then shut up and do something about it.”

His eyes darken. “Bossy. I like it.”

Clothes come off in that messy, uncoordinated way that makes everything feel more real.

Your shirt catches on your earring; Eddie curses under his breath and helps untangle it, nearly elbowing you in the face in the process. 

When you tug his Hellfire shirt over his head, his hair gets caught in the collar, and he has to shake it free like a wet dog.

You both end up laughing quietly, but the laughter dies fast when your hands slide over his bare chest, tracing the tattoos on his chest and the line of hair disappearing into his jeans.

Eddie pushes you back onto the pillows, mouth trailing hot and wet down your neck. He’s not gentle exactly, he sucks a mark just below your collarbone that’ll definitely be there tomorrow. 

But there’s a hesitation in the way his hands move, like he’s still half-waiting for you to tell him to fuck off.

When he finally gets your jeans and underwear down, they snag around one ankle. He yanks a little too hard, and you nearly knee him in the shoulder.

“Shit—sorry,” he mumbles, tossing them somewhere toward the floor.

He settles between your thighs, broad shoulders spreading you open. For a second, he just looks, pupils blown, then glances up at you with that signature smirk. “You good?”

You nod, breath already uneven. “Yeah. Just… don’t overthink it.”

He huffs a laugh. “Me? Overthink? Never.”

Then his mouth is on you.

The first lick is experimental, a little too broad, but when your hips twitch, and you let out a shaky breath, he figures it out quickly.

He gets messier and more eager, tongue dragging through your folds, circling your clit with sloppy enthusiasm. 

One hand grips your thigh hard enough to leave marks, the other presses flat on your stomach, holding you down when you start to squirm.

Every time you moan, he hums against you like he’s proud of himself, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

“Shit, you taste good,” he mumbles, pulling back just enough to speak, lips brushing your folds. “Thinking about me often?”

You tug his hair, hips rolling against his face. “Nope,” but the breathy moan you just exhaled gives you away instantly. 

Eddie chuckles darkly, the sound muffled against your pussy. “Liar. You’re soaked. I can feel how bad you want it.”

He licks a slow stripe up your center, then sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking in tight circles that make your back arch off the bed.

You’re panting now, one hand fisted in his messy curls, the other twisted in the sheets.

He slides two fingers into you without warning, curling them just right, and the sudden stretch pulls a louder moan from your throat.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice rough. “Make those pretty sounds for me.”

He picks up the pace, fingers thrusting deep and steady while his mouth works your clit relentlessly.

He’s completely lost in it, groaning and cursing softly against your skin like eating you out is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

You can feel yourself getting close, thighs starting to tremble around his head. Every time your hips jerk, he presses you down harder, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming pleasure.

“Eddie—” you gasp, voice breaking.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and mouth slick. His fingers keep moving, slow and deep, dragging it out on purpose. “Yeah? You close already? Let me taste you, sweetheart.”

The filthy words in that smug voice push you right to the edge. You nod frantically, tugging his hair harder.

“Then do it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Come for me.”

He dives back in, sucking your clit hard while his fingers curl against that perfect spot inside you. The orgasm hits you hard: thighs clamping around his head, back bowing off the bed as you moan his name, hips grinding against his face. 

Eddie doesn’t stop, licking you through every pulse and aftershock, groaning like he’s the one coming.

Only when you start twitching and weakly pushing at his head does he finally ease off, kissing the inside of your thigh softly before crawling back up your body. 

His mouth finds yours in a messy, desperate kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s rock hard against your thigh, still trapped in his jeans, grinding down once without thinking.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips, voice hoarse. “You’re dangerous.”

You reach between you, palming him through the denim, and he hisses, hips jerking into your touch. “Then take these off already, or I’m doing it for you.”

Eddie laughs, low and ragged, sitting back on his knees to fumble with his belt. His cock springs free, flushed dark and leaking at the tip. He strokes himself once, eyes locked on you with that hungry, slightly dazed look.

He leans back over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other guiding himself between your legs. The head of his cock nudges hot and blunt against your entrance, and he pauses, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours.

“You sure?” he asks, voice rough but surprisingly gentle underneath the usual bravado. “We can stop if—”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. “I said take them off, not talk me out of it. Fuck me already, Eddie.”

That’s all the permission he needs. He pushes in slowly, both of you groaning at the stretch. He’s not small, and you’re still sensitive from coming, body shaking under him.

He pushes in slowly, both of you groaning at the stretch. He’s thick, and you’re still sensitive—he rocks his hips in shallow little thrusts until he’s fully seated, hips flush against yours. For a moment, he just stays there, panting against your neck.

“Shit… you feel incredible,” he mutters.

Then he starts moving, slow, deep rolls of his hips at first, like he’s savoring it. The old bed creaks with every thrust, but he quickly finds a steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in. 

He lasts longer than you expected, changing pace whenever he feels himself getting too close, slowing down, grinding deep, sometimes just holding still inside you while he kisses your neck and catches his breath.

One hand slides between you, thumb rubbing messy circles over your clit. His mouth stays on your skin, sucking marks along your collarbone and the top of your breast, murmuring rough, broken praise between kisses.

“Taking me so fucking well… look at you,” he groans, hips snapping harder for a moment before he forces himself to slow again. “You’re gonna kill me, Wheeler.”

You come again with his thumb on your clit and his cock dragging perfectly inside you, clenching tight around him.

Eddie curses, hips stuttering, but he doesn’t let himself go yet. He fucks you through it, slower now, drawing it out until your breathing evens.

Only when you’re boneless and trembling does he finally let go. His thrusts deepen, a little erratic, his grip tightening on your hip.

“Fuck—gonna come,” he warns, voice strained. You hum in approval, locking your lips around his neck to send him over the edge.

He thrusts deep a few more times and comes with a low, guttural groan, hips pressed tight against yours as he spills into you, pulsing hot and deep.

He rides it out with lazy little rocks until he finally collapses half on top of you, both of you slick with sweat and breathing hard.

For a long moment, there’s just the sound of your breathing.

Eddie eventually lifts his head, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, and gives you a lazy, satisfied grin.

He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, then shifts so he’s not crushing you, though he stays buried inside you for a little longer, like he doesn’t want to pull out yet.

His eyes drift over your neck and chest, and his expression shifts, something between smug and sheepish.

“Shit…” he mutters, thumb gently brushing over one of the darker marks he left on your collarbone.

 “I, uh… got a little carried away with the hickies. Sorry about that.” He winces, but there’s a soft laugh in his voice. “You’re gonna look like you got attacked by a vampire. Nancy’s gonna kill me if she sees these.”

You snort, still catching your breath, and run your fingers through his messy curls. “You didn’t exactly hold back.”

“I know, I know.” He leans in and kisses the worst of the marks gently, almost apologetically, then rests his forehead against yours. 

“They look kinda hot on you, though. Like… property of Eddie Munson or something.”

He pauses, realizing how that sounded, and his cheeks flush a little. “Okay, that was fucking stupid. Ignore me, please.”

You laugh softly, the sound warm between you, and tug him down for a slow, lazy kiss. He melts into it immediately, one hand cupping your face like you’re something precious.

When you pull back, you smirk. “You’re such a dork.” 

For a while, neither of you says anything. The air in the trailer is warm, heavy, quiet except for the sound of your breathing slowly evening out.

Eddie shifts slightly, careful this time, easing his weight so he’s not crushing you, but he doesn’t go far.

Doesn’t want to. He stays close, really close, one arm draped loosely over your waist like it just belongs there now.

Your fingers are still tangled in his hair, lazily combing through the damp curls at the nape of his neck.

He lets out a soft breath at that, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he didn’t realize how much he needed it.

“…You trying to put me to sleep?” he mumbles.

“Maybe,” you murmur back. “You seem like you could use it.”

“Rude,” he says automatically, but there’s no bite to it. “I was performing.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Yeah, Munson. Stellar performance.”

“Thank you,” he says, voice a little smug now. “I aim to please.”

You roll your eyes, but your hand doesn’t leave him. He tilts his head slightly, looking up at you properly now, softer than before.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter.

You nod, just as softly. “Yeah.”

There’s a moment where he just studies your face, like he’s making sure you mean it. Then his expression shifts again, lighter this time, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth.

“Good,” he says. “Would’ve hated for my big moment to be a total disaster.”

“Your big moment?” you echo.

“Yeah,” he nods seriously. “Gonna go down in Hawkins history.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “I’m sure there’ll be a plaque.”

“Hey,” he points at you lazily, “you’re laughing. That means I did something right.”

You are laughing. You shift slightly, tucking yourself a little closer into him without thinking. Your leg hooks loosely over his, your head finding a spot against his shoulder that feels easy.

He stills for half a second, then relaxes into it. Like he’s trying not to make a big deal out of the fact that you chose to fuck him and stay.

His fingers trace slow, absent patterns along your side, not pushing, not rushing anything. 

“You always like this after?” he asks after a minute, voice quieter again.

“Like what?”

“Cute. Cozy. No ‘tude?”

You glance up at him. There’s a hint of something real under that question. You shrug slightly, fingers still playing with his hair.

“Depends who I’m with.”

That earns you a small smile. “Guess I’m lucky, then.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

You both fall quiet again. Eventually, you let out a soft breath and sit up, stretching slightly as reality starts to creep back in.

“I should go,” you say, glancing toward the clock like you already know it’s late.

Eddie groans quietly, flopping back against the mattress.

“Or,” he offers, “you could not do that.”

“Tempting,” you admit, sliding off the bed to gather your clothes. “But I’d like to survive the rest of the week.”

“Fair.”

He props himself up on his elbows, watching you as you get dressed, not even trying to hide it.

“Eyes up here.”

“No promises.”

“Eddie.”

He grins, completely unashamed. “Worth a shot.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. By the time you’re ready, he’s pulled on his jeans, grabbing his jacket again like it’s second nature.

“I’ll take you,” he says.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

The ride back is quieter than before, but not in a bad way. Your hand rests between the seats, and at some point, his fingers brush yours, then they stay.

When he pulls up outside your house, the engine idles for a second longer than necessary.

“You good?” he asks again.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll see you around?”

You glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” you say. “You will.”

You open the door, then pause, shooting him one last look, debating your actions. Then, you tilt your head back, landing a soft kiss on his cheek.

He turns his head down to face you, stunned, then that usual smirk grows once more. 

“Yeah, I’m definitely seeing you again.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Inside, the room is not quiet. You barely close the window before Nancy’s voice cuts through your soul.

“Oh, my god, finally.”

You freeze and slowly turn.

Nancy’s sitting up in bed, wide awake. And Steve is right beside her, looking way too present for someone who was definitely supposed to leave hours ago.

You stare at them. They stare at you.

“…Hi,” you say.

Nancy’s eyes narrow immediately. “You were gone for a while.”

You sink a little, then immediately point at Steve, “Yeah, and he’s supposed to be gone. It’s 1 a.m!”

“You just got back,” she retorts.

“I live here. He does not.”

Steve leans forward, squinting at you. “…Whoa.”

You blink. “What?”

He points. “Your neck.”

Your hand flies up instinctively. Nancy’s eyes follow the movement, and then widen.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Are those—”

“No,” you say immediately.

“They are,” Steve cuts in, already grinning.

“They are not.”

“They are so hickeys,” he says, delighted.

Nancy scrambles off the bed, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the mirror. “Let me see—”

“Nancy—”

“Oh my god,” she laughs, covering her mouth. “You’re covered!”

“I am not covered.”

“You absolutely are,” Steve calls from behind you. “Munson really went for it, huh?”

You whip around. “Shut up.”

He holds his hands up, still grinning. “Hey, I’m just saying, respect.”

Nancy is still staring at you like she’s just unlocked the biggest secret in Hawkins.

“You and Eddie Munson?” she says, half shocked, half impressed. “You’re the one blushing earlier and now this—”

“I was not blushing.”

“You were.”

“You’re deflecting,” Steve adds helpfully.

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “Can you both not do this right now?”

“Nope,” Nancy says immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Steve agrees.

You look between them, already exhausted. “…I hate both of you.”

Nancy just smiles. “Yeah,” she says lightly. “But you had fun.”

You pause, just for a second, and that’s all they need.

“Oh my god,” Steve says. “She did.”

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, already moving to shove him toward the window.

“Hey—hey!” Steve protests, laughing.

“Out,” you snap, pointing. “Now.”

Nancy is still smiling as she climbs under the covers. “This is not over.”

“It is for tonight.”

Steve pauses halfway out, shooting you one last grin.

“Munson, huh? Didn’t see that coming.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Morning comes too fast. You’re awake before the alarm. Not because you want to be, but because your brain won’t shut the fuck up.

You’re flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind your head, the other resting over your stomach like you’re trying to physically hold yourself still. It doesn’t work, by the way.

Because every time you close your eyes, it’s him.

The way he looked at you. The way he laughed. The way his hands felt, the way his voice dropped when he got quiet, the way his face looked between your thighs…It’s annoying. Deeply.

You groan softly, dragging a hand over your face.

“You’re thinking so loud right now.”

Your head turns. Nancy is propped up on her elbow, watching you like she’s been awake for a while.

“You can’t hear thinking,” you mutter.

“I can when it’s this dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, staring back up at the ceiling. “Go back to sleep.”

“No,” she says simply. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Mhmm.”

Silence stretches for exactly three seconds.

“…It’s Eddie.”

You immediately regret saying it.

Nancy’s face lights up. “I knew it.”

“You didn’t know it.”

“I absolutely knew it.”

You turn your head, narrowing your eyes at her. “You didn’t know anything.”

“You were blushing at your locker.”

“I was not—”

“You had hickeys.” You freeze.

She raises a brow. “…Continue.”

“Shut up.” You say, but there’s no real bite to it. 

“Okay, okay,” she says, still grinning. “So what? You hooked up. That doesn’t mean you have to—”

“It’s not just that,” you cut in, quieter now.

That makes her pause. “…Then what is it?”

You hesitate, picking at a loose thread on your blanket. “I don’t know,” you admit finally. “He’s just not what I expected.”

Nancy softens, just a little. “Different?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

You exhale, frustrated with yourself.

“He’s not trying to impress anyone. He’s not pretending. He just is.” You shake your head slightly. “And it’s… kind of hot. But, I dunno. You know what people say about him."

Then Nancy smiles. “Then go for it.”

You blink at her. “What?”

“Go for it,” she repeats. “He obviously likes you.”

You scoff automatically. “You don’t know that.”

She just looks at you.

“You don’t bring someone home, give them your jacket, and then show up at their locker with a fake excuse to talk to them if you don’t like them. And, the hickeys are like, a dead giveaway.” 

You hesitate. “…Okay, yeah. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” she echoes.

“Fine,” you sigh. “He does.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

You don’t answer because you don’t have one.

Nancy nudges your leg with her foot. “You don’t have to marry him,” she says, softer now. “Just… try.”

You sit with that. Long enough that it starts to feel like a decision instead of a suggestion. Then you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Nancy’s brows lift immediately. “…What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” you say, already standing. “Something impulsive.”

“That checks out.”

You move to your side of the closet, pulling it open and immediately frowning.

“Why do I have nothing to wear?”

Nancy snorts. “You have everything to wear.”

“I have nothing appropriate.”

“For what?” she asks.

You pause. “…I don’t know yet.”

She gets up, walking over and pushing past you to start flipping through your clothes.

“Okay, not that,” she mutters. “Definitely not that. Oh—wait—this.”

She pulls something out and holds it up. You eye it.

“…Really?”

“Yes, really,” she says. “It’s still you, just… slightly less chaotic.”

“I’m not chaotic.”

“You’re curated chaos.”

“Same thing.”

“Not even close.”

You take it anyway. You get dressed faster than you want to admit, checking yourself in the mirror once, then again, adjusting something small that didn’t need adjusting.

Nancy watches the whole thing. “You’re nervous,” she says.

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’ve fixed your hair four times.”

“I always fix my hair.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“…Stop looking at me.”

She smiles, stepping closer. “For what it’s worth,” she says, softer now, “he’d be an idiot not to like you.”

“…Thanks.”

She nods once. “Go!”

You grab your jacket and leave before you can overthink it. The drive feels shorter than it should. Or maybe you’re just not paying attention.

Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the trailer, engine idling as you stare at the door.

You could leave. You could absolutely just turn around and pretend this never happened, but you don’t. You exhale, pushing the car door open and stepping out before you can change your mind.

The gravel crunches under your shoes as you walk up, each step louder than the last. You knock once, twice.

A pause, then the door swings open, and there he is.

Eddie, hair a mess, shirt halfway on like he just dragged it over his head, eyes still heavy with sleep, and then he sees you. And freezes.

“…Wheeler?”

You don’t give yourself time to think. You tilt your head slightly, a small, confident smile pulling at your lips.

“Come on, Munson,” you say.

His brows knit together, still catching up. “What?”

“You’re taking me on a date.”

IM SO OBSESSED WITH THIS OKAY!?!? IM SORRY HELLO???

anyways....let me know if you want more, yk me and how I love making everything into a series LMAO

beasbuggies:

────────

It took a while for Eddie to notice that his t-shirts were going missing. He couldn’t understand why his favorite Judas Priest shirt hadn’t resurfaced after weeks of searching or where his Metallica tank top had disappeared to. It was like his personal wardrobe was dwindling down to nothing. After a month of this, he finally found the culprit- you.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so hot.” He pants as he drives his hips into you, causing your back to arch off the mattress. It had been going on like this for at least an hour- after you had opened the front door of your apartment to let your boyfriend in. When he laid his eyes on you wearing only a pair of black panties and his Iron Maiden t-shirt, he couldn’t help himself. He had you pinned against your mattress in less than five minutes flat.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You whine, your arms grasping onto his biceps as he snapped his hips into your wet core- fucking you hard enough to make it difficult for you to walk tomorrow.

“Yeah, baby?” He whispers “That feel good?”

“So good, Eds.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look so good.” He moans, pulling away a bit to stare down at your hardened nipples poking through the fabric of his shirt. He pinches a part of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, admiring.

“Tell me again,” He breathes “Who does this belong to?”

He was asserting dominance and you loved it. You loved when your boyfriend put you in your place in the bedroom. Especially when he was so sweet to you any other time.

“Yours, Eddie.” You squeak as he hits a particular spot inside of you that had you seeing stars “It’s y-yours.”

“Damn right.” He says, grabbing your legs to hitch them over his shoulders to fuck you at a whole new angle.

“Oh shit! Holy fuck!” You scream out as Eddie smiles down at you cockily.

“You know, sweetheart, I usually don’t like to share but I’ll make an exception just for you. Because you look so damn cute. How does that sound? What’s mine is yours.” He smirks seductively.

“F-fuck!” You stammer, taking Eddie’s hard cock as he thrusts into you with fervor.

“Isn’t that right, baby? Hm? What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine? Isn’t that what they say?”

You were too cock drunk and stupid to respond with more than desperate nods.

“Good.” Eddie purrs “Guess that means this pussy is mine, right?”

────────

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