#mrwinterr writes

Your fingers tangle in his wild hair, tugging gently just to keep yourself grounded. “I’d just—” you sucked in a sharp breath, body betraying you as pleasure builds up anyway when you’re trying to get serious for a moment, “...like to have bruises anywhere other than my head.”

That gets a short laugh from him. “Fine,” he mutters relentlessly. “Turn around. Hands and knees. Now.”

He reluctantly eases out of you with agonizing slowness. The obscene, wet sound fills the room in the process and you shiver at the loss, however, the demanding edge in his tone has you moving quickly, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

Your muscles shook from anticipation as you shifted and turned, your heart hammering against your ribs. You could feel his eyes watching you the entire time, dark, hungry, and ready to do it again…just in a different position.

“Oh, motherfucker. Eddie! Ed-” Your voice cracked as the bed betrayed you. The silk was like ice, your body sliding too far and too fast, and soon gravity took over. Panic flared through you for half a second before Eddie’s strong arms shot out, his fingers digging into your skin to  anchor you, stopping you just before you tumbled off the other side of the bed.

He catches you, but not without consequence. His cock slips free in the scramble, and the loss hits you hard. You feel the slick heat of him drag along the inside of your thigh, so wet, so hard against you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You let out a frustrated groan, insides burning because you were right there—so close it almost hurts.

“Damn it,” Eddie growled. His jaw clenched tight, his chest heaving as he stared down at you like he’s trying not to lose his damn mind.

“It’s these silk sheets, Eds,” you managed to breathe out, the sound somewhere between half a laugh, half a whine. “They’re making me slip all over the place.” While the black silk sheets were beautiful and felt great to the touch, they were not practical for certain activities. 

“They’re not gonna stop me from fucking you,” he snaps back immediately, voice rough and stripped of its usual playfulness.

Before you can say another word, he turns you back around to pull you to the center of the bed, hands firm and unyielding as his arms hooked under each of your legs. You slide effortless over the silk, a flash of heat flares between your thighs as you’re repositioned exactly where he wants you. His hands spread you open for him like it’s instinct. 

“Fine,” he mutters, already lining himself up again. The tip of his cock brushing against you, teasingly and agonizingly. “We’ll go slow,” he scoffs just before pushing in. “I guess.” 

It was a promise wrapped in a threat, delivered with a look that made it painfully clear - slow is going to feel just as devastating.

“Stop getting away from me!” he demands, frustration bleeding into his voice. His grip tightens as the damn silk sheets slide beneath you again, your body shifting helplessly, forcing him to involuntarily pull halfway out.

The sudden loss makes you gasp. “I’m not!” you snap back breathlessly, looking for purchase, thighs trembling. “It’s these fucking sheets, Eddie—I swear.” Your voice is desperate, sick of being on the cusp of pleasure just to be ripped away every time in every position.

He lets out a broken groan, head tipping back for a second like he’s trying not to lose it entirely. The tension in the air is tight, and suddenly there’s a harsh rip that cuts through the room. You blink just in time to see him tear the corner of the bedsheet clean off the mattress.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, eyes still just as dark as he tosses the ruined silk aside. So much for sexy. All it’s done is rob you both of the release that’s been hovering just out of reach.

He moved back between your legs, his knees digging into the bare mattress now. His hands found your hips, pulling you back toward him, where you belong. No slipping. No escape.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up tonight no matter what,” he promises, words thick with need. His pace picks up again, harder this time, more determined, every thrust deliberate like he’s chasing something he refuses to be denied of...again.

And this time, he makes damn sure nothing, no fabric or force of gravity, keeps either of you from chasing that high.

The friction of the bare mattress changed everything. Every time he drove forward, you felt the sheer impact vibrating through your very bones. The "slow" he had promised was long gone, replaced by a frantic, rhythmic desperation that pushed you right back to that edge.

"Eddie," you choked out, your head thrashing back against the pillows. Your vision was beginning to blur, the world dissolving into flashes of white light and the sound of his uneven breathing.

"I've got you," his voice vibrating against your collarbone. "I’m not letting you go anywhere. Literally” he adds, letting out a lone chuckle, somehow finding time to make a joke even in this situation. 

The ache inside coiled tighter and tighter, on the brink of snapping. You could feel it in the way his muscles bunched, the way his fingers dug into your waist as if he were trying to merge his body with yours. It was a sensory overload—the scent of him, the salt of sweat, and the fullness of him filling every inch of you until it happened.

You cried out, a sound of pure, shattered relief as your climax washes over you like harsh tidal waves. Your walls clamped down around him in pulsing rhythm, and that was the final straw for Eddie.

He let out a low, guttural sound finally breaking. His thrusts are almost uncoordinated, but nonetheless, he drives into you, his hot cum spilling deep inside until he’s spent. His forehead crashes against yours, his eyes squeezed shut as he shook with the force of his own release.

The only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized pounding of your hearts. The high was devastatingly blissful, leaving you both wrecked and tangled together on the ruined bed, the discarded silk sheets forgotten on the floor.

"Well," he wheezed, his voice muffled and scratchy. "That’s the last time I try and buy something luxurious."

You let out a weak laugh, your fingers feebly tracing the line of his spine. "I thought you said they were supposed to be sexy."

Eddie finally pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with a lopsided, exhausted grin. His hair was a bird’s nest, his chest was flushed, and he looked entirely satisfied, even if he was currently glaring at the floor. He pointed a finger at the pile of black silk crumpled in the corner like a fallen enemy.

"They were sexy. For about thirty seconds," he countered. "Then they became a slip-and-slide from hell."

You leaned up to plant a lingering, lazy kiss on his jaw. "You handled the difficult terrain pretty well at the end there."

"Yeah, well, I had to resort to barbarian tactics," he muttered, glancing at the jagged, torn remains of the fitted sheet still clinging to the corner of the mattress. He winced slightly, realizing something. "That was a nice thread count, wasn't it?"

"The highest," you confirmed.

Eddie fell back onto the bare mattress with a dramatic thud, pulling you into his side and tucking you under his arm. "Worth it. But tomorrow? We’re going back to the cheap cotton."

It’d been over a month, and you couldn’t bear it any longer. You threw yourself head first into Eddie’s world, unearthing everything you could find about him. You were obsessed with the idea of him and how to help him. 

As a junior detective, snooping for clues shouldn’t be a problem, especially with the chief of police’s fondness of you. You loved your job and rather than only using it to your advantage, you reopened Eddie’s cold case and started putting the pieces together. Then when the first free weekend arrived, you decided to take the plunge and call out to Eddie. 

Steve’s timing couldn’t have been worse. He knew his luck had changed since high school, but he never imagined it could keep fluctuating like this. Struggling to find his place in adulthood – skipping college and taking odd jobs – and then meeting you, a wanderer in the bleakest town of Indiana. What a cruel irony it was. A positive in a negative. Life seemed to revel in his misfortune, and now things were becoming even stranger. 

“Really? I thought you were done with this,” Steve says, when he sees the Ouija board on the coffee table, his hands on his hips. 

He was ready to pick up wherever of whatever you two were, starting with a date, but the universe decided to put another roadblock in his path. Now, here you were trying to coax him into reaching out to the dead. 

“I’m not sure,” he hesitated, looking at the board then back to you. “I still think this is wrong.” 

After that night, you were eager to confirm your suspicions to Steve, save for the explicit details, the next day when you visited him at his workplace. You had told him there was in fact a ghost in your trailer and it was Eddie. The mention of Eddie’s name was enough to turn Steve as white as a ghost himself. Memories of Eddie and his tragic story flooded back, leaving Steve feeling guilty for withholding this history, including how much of an asshole he and his friends were to people like Eddie, from you as you began piecing things together.  

“Please, Steve,” you pleaded gently. “He’s harmless. Maybe we can help him.” 

“How do you even know he’s still here?” Steve asked, noting your absence of recent complaints about any oddities occurring. 

“Well, then there’s nothing to be scared of, right?” you countered his question. 

“I’m not scared,” he huffed, to which you raised your eyes in response, silently challenging him to prove it. 

“Fine,” he relented with a sigh, rolling his eyes before joining you on the couch. 

As you lit the strategically placed candles around the living room and dimmed the lights, Steve attempted to make light of the situation, “Candles, really?” he joked, attempting to mask his discomfort. “Isn’t that a bit cliche?” His forced chuckle faltered when he saw the serious expression on your face, and he quickly apologized under his breath. 

Instead of sitting next to him, you settled across on the floor. Instructing Steve to place his hands on the planchette with you, you closed your eyes, he mimicked, and called out into the void. 

“Is there someone here with us?” you asked, allowing a moment for a response, filled with patience and hope. 

Steve, on the other hand, cautiously peeked one eye to ensure your safety, then quickly shut it again, bracing himself for whatever might materialize out of thin air. He waits for the next move, only that next move didn’t come from you. 

To your surprise, both of your hands suddenly jerked to the word YES on the Ouija board. 

“Holy Shit!” Steve exclaimed, pulling away from the planchette and scooting far from the Ouija board. 

“Steve!” you scolded, annoyed that he broke the connection. 

“It moved!” he cried out, pointing to the pieces on the table. “The thing fucking moved!” 

“Yes, that’s what happens when you use a Ouija board to talk to the dead,” you replied. 

“You’re not fucking with me, right?” He asks, eyes wild and scared. 

“No! Why would I do that? I have better things to do than a thing like that!” you responded appalled by that kind of accusation. 

“I think we should stop before this gets dangerous,” Steve cautioned, slowly regaining his composure. 

“What danger? Nothing happened,” you asked, puzzled. 

“Nothing yet!” Steve retorted, his voice overwhelming you. Seeing you visibly flinch made him feel terrible. He sighed deeply, ran his hands over his face, and then apologized. The topic of this ghost was a touchy subject and continued to stress him out. He hadn’t planned on entertaining the idea until tonight. 

“Look,” he began again, adopting a calmer tone. “All I’m saying is, we don’t know who we’re talking to or what we’re dealing with, and that is dangerous,” he reasoned. 

“Eddie,” you corrected him, but he was confused. “It’s Eddie. We’re talking to Eddie.” 

“Okay, how do we even know that? We could be talking to another lost soul,” Steve countered skeptically. 

“Again, there’s only one way to find out,” you replied, nodding in the direction of the table again, urging him to continue communication. 

He sighed once more, “You just don’t give up, do you?” 

“Nope! Now come on,” resuming your position, knowing you roped him back in. 

You posed your initial question again, receiving the same affirmative response. The light gasp from Steve confirmed he was still internally spooked by the unfolding events. Resisting the urge to wrap your arms around him and run your fingers through his thick hair the way he liked just to provide comfort, you stayed focused on the task at hand. 

“Who is with us?” you asked, instructing Steve to open his eyes as your hands guided the planchette to spell out Eddie’s name. 

“Son of a bitch, Munson,” Steve muttered to himself. There was no malice in his voice, only profound shock. Steve is terrible at concealing his emotions, and you could see him struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. He was talking to someone who he used to know, and that someone was dead. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Lost in your own thoughts, you began to wonder if involving Steve was the right decision. You had been so determined to make someone believe you that you hadn’t considered how he would react. Not everyone shared your enthusiasm for the supernatural. Moreover, what exactly were you planning to do to help Eddie pass on? 

Suddenly, the trailer began to rumble and vibrate, as if caught in an earthquake. The lights flickered, interrupting your thoughts, alerting you both on your feet and deciding the next move would be to safety. Steve looked around anxiously for an area of the trailer to seek refuge. The tension in the air escalated, leaving you frozen in place, uncertain of what was happening. A sharp pain shot through you, your head immediately started to pound, but when you tried to let out a scream, nothing came out. It was only when the rumbling ceased that a loud thud echoed through the room, snapping Steve’s attention. 

“No,” Steve cursed under his breath, realizing where the noise came from. “No, no no, no, no. Fuck!” He exclaimed, nearly leaping over the table to attend to your unconscious body off the floor. 

Something felt different. 

Though it was hard to articulate, you felt lighter. A sense of ease and freedom from worries – it felt good. 

Confusion sets in as you recall the last memory of sitting in your living room with the Ouija board laid out and Steve in front of you. Panic gripped as you scanned the room, you discovered that you were alone.

Had Steve left?

Had he finally grown tired of your bullshit? 

You picked yourself up from the ground and it was then you noticed your surroundings. It was your living room, but only it wasn’t. The furniture, decoration and accents were not yours. 

Your mind is wrecked with uncertainty. Where do you go from here? You’re ready to run back to Steve and admit he was right – maybe you were nuts. The dead were better off left alone. Not only did you spook Eddie, now Steve. 

Your thoughts are broken by a voice calling out your name – an unfamiliar yet strangely comforting voice. Turning towards the source, you were shocked by who you saw. 

It was Eddie Munson. 

He stood a few feet away, partially hidden by the doorway to a room, looking slightly apprehensive. You, on the other hand, are perplexed by the situation. He said multiple times he couldn’t show himself to you. Yet, here he is and you could also hear him. 

“Eddie?” you managed to croak out, your voice hoarse and strained. Attempting to clear your throat only resulted in a fit of dry coughs.  

“Whoa,” Eddie cautioned as he hurried to assist you. “Take it easy, sweetheart. You’ve been out for a few days.” Seeing you wince as you struggled to swallow your own spit in an attempt to soothe your throat, he swiftly moved to the kitchen area to fetch a glass of water. 

You nearly choked on the water as you gulped it down greedily, shocked by his admission of you being unconscious for days. 

“Days?!” you exclaimed, setting the glass down and wiping your mouth. How many days had it been? “You just let me lie there?” Your voice boomed incredulously, causing Eddie to flinch slightly.  

“Well, I couldn’t exactly take you anywhere,” he replied, trying to keep up with your barrage of questions.  

“Why not?” you demanded, your mind racing. 

“We’re not in Hawkins,” he responded, but none of it made sense to you because you’re in your trailer, which as far as you knew was located in Hawkins.  

“What? Where are we then?” you asked, feeling disoriented and confused. You must’ve hit your head harder than you thought.   

“You’re sort of in between…like purgatory”, Eddie began to explain, carefully choosing his words. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, unwilling to accept his answer. 

“Look, I was just as skeptical of this as you were, but after a while, it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere,” he replied, and you could tell he was growing frustrated at your stubbornness. “Whether you believe it or not, sweetheart, you’re stuck here.” 

You try to ignore the stirring feeling of the harmless pet name he kept using. It almost feels the same way when Steve calls you honey… 

“Okay, but how?” That was the burning question. And why were you here? “How did I get here? Why am I here?” you asked. Did you die?

“Beats me,” Eddie shrugs, unsure himself. “One second you and pretty boy were asking me questions, and the next, it was like the world turned upside down.” Well, that explains the earthquake at least. 

“Steve,” you muttered his name to yourself, feeling a wave of panic again. “Where’s Steve?” you asked desperately, locking eyes with Eddie. Was he stuck here too? He seemed to be wrestling with himself on how to answer you. 

“He’s at the hospital,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Before you could start worrying, he quickly added, “He’s fine…you passed out and he took you to the hospital.” 

Relief temporarily washed over you knowing you didn’t in fact die and that Steve was alive and okay, but Eddie was still not making any sense. “Eddie, how is that possible when I’m right here?” 

“No, you-you, is at the hospital in Hawkins…on the other side,” he finally revealed with a grave expression. 

Steve didn’t waste any time. 

He scoops up your body and rushes straight to the nearest emergency room. To his surprise, there was no evidence of an earthquake or any natural disaster. The medical staff looked at him confused, questioning if he had checked the weather report for the day. One even had the audacity to ask if he sustained a head injury himself. It only infuriated him because he didn’t need them attending to him, he needed them to focus on you. You weren’t waking up. 

After stabilizing you and conducting necessary tests that provided little reassurance to Steve beyond the fact that you would recover once you woke up, albeit with uncertainty about when that would be.  

“Shit,” Steve muttered, biting his knuckle in frustration as he stared at your unconscious figure. “I knew we shouldn’t have messed with that stupid board.” He mentally berated himself for not being persistent enough to dissuade you.  

Steve rarely left your room. The incessant beeping noise from the machine could have been maddening, but he blocked it out, patiently waiting for you to awaken from your coma. He managed to take a few days off from work and informed his friend, Robin, on his whereabouts. Robin, knowing how much Steve adored you, understood that he needed support and solace at this moment. 

Having met you several times at gatherings with Steve, Robin grew fond of you, particularly because you brought happiness to her friend. She convinced Steve not to neglect his own life though. While he could afford a few days away from work, he still needed to take care of himself. 

Steve reluctantly agreed with Robin and decided that one night away wouldn’t hurt. She argued that a few hours of rest would benefit him. So, he returned home, showered, ate something other than cafeteria food, and slept in his own bed instead of the uncomfortable chair in your hospital room – though “slept” was hardly the right word. 

His mind was consumed with thoughts about what transpired with the Ouija board. Where have you gone? Why was this experience different from the first time you used it? Was it Eddie’s doing or something worse? Would you ever awaken? Frustrated and determined, Steve resolved to seek answers himself. 

Returning to your trailer, he found the Ouija board exactly where you had left it. He felt somewhat foolish as he re-lit the candles around the room and picked up the planchette that had fallen during the commotion. Taking a deep breath, he called out to the first person who could help. Eddie. 

If you could pass out again, you would.

Was it even possible to lose consciousness when you were already untethered from your body? Where would you go next? Hell? An empty void?

The realization deflated you. You plopped down on the couch, looking over at Eddie, who stood a few feet away, almost scared, unsure of your next move.

“Well, make yourself at home,” you say, patting the seat next to you. “It is yours, technically.”

He hesitated, then carefully made his way over. He sat with a tentative lightness, afraid he might slip right through the furniture. The silence that followed was suffocating. Eddie rubbed his hands over the denim of his dark, ripped jeans to soothe himself. A sudden, dry laugh cut through the thick air, making him jump slightly.

“This is all my fault.” At least you felt like it was as you reclined against the back of the sofa, tossing your head back and covering your eyes with your arm. 

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. You didn't expect a response anyway. The truth was just spewing out of you now, a dam breaking after months of haunting. 

“I wanted to see you again so bad, Eddie. I spent every night going through your records and looking for a sign, anything...but you never gave me one. I got so obsessed that I almost killed myself just to find you.”

“You wanted to see me… again?” he asked. His voice was small, cracked with vulnerability. The admission hit Eddie like a ton of bricks. 

Your eyes snapped open. The weight of what you’d just admitted out loud settled in your chest. You pushed yourself upright, turning to face him fully. His eyes were wide, dark, and searching yours for a lie you weren't telling.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding slowly. “I thought I’d scared you away. You weren’t around anymore, and I thought maybe you’d moved on...or that I crossed a line when we-”

“I never left,” he interrupts, his voice barely a whisper. He looked away, a faint, spectral flush creeping up his neck. “I thought I’d gone too far. That night...in your bed. I figured the best thing I could do for you was stay in the walls. Let you have your life back.”

“No, Eddie,” you said. You reached out, your hand hovering just above his. “I wanted it. I wanted you there.” You could feel the static pull and you wondered. Could you actually feel him here? You let your hand drop and a wave of relief coursed through you as the warmth of his hand seeped into your cold palm. You could actually touch him. “I wanted more.”

Eddie looked down at where your hands met—the living and the dead, together. He turned his palm up, his fingers curling around yours, squeezing lightly.

“I want more, too,” he rasped.

“You do?” The question barely poses as one. You just needed to hear him say it.

“Yeah,” he admits, "You have no idea how many times I've tried to imagine it. How many times I-“ he doesn’t get to finish his confession because that was all the opening you needed before colliding into him.

The kiss was desperate, a mess of teeth and tongue with the sense of chasing something that felt long overdue. Your hands were everywhere at once – along the column of his neck, the firm planes of his chest, the dips of his ribs and down the narrow line of his waist just above his belt.

Eddie on the other hand was aching but hesitant to touch you, hands still planted behind him keeping him steady from when you launched yourself at him, but you weren’t having none of it. Grabbing his wrists, you forced his ring-clad fingers to your waist, digging them into your skin. The groan that slipped past your lips into his mouth sent a violent vibration through him, making his blood rush. You needed him to know you weren't going anywhere and that you really wanted this. It seemed to do the trick as his hands wandered between the valley of your breasts, the reluctance now replaced by unashamed urgency.

You push Eddie into a reclining position to settle on top of him, legs caging his hips, your fingers tangling in his wild curls and lips tracing a feverish path from the sharp line of his jaw down to the pulse of his neck until you’re slowly sinking to your knees between his legs.

"You don’t…” his eyes searched for any sign of doubt.

"No, I want to..." you insisted, voice low but steady with pulsing intent.

The click of the buckle gave way, loud in the small trailer. You huff in frustration, your fingers at the waistband, unable to pull down his jeans because of his dead weight. Sensing your struggle, he lifts his hips to help you strip the layers of denim and cotton from his body, hissing at the rush of cool air that hits his skin.

Your gaze lingers and mouth watering as his cock twitches with the sudden exposure. Eddie let out a long, shaky sigh – half-relief and half-surrender – as you wrap one hand, then the other around him. Fuck, he really is that big. He lets out a low groan when you start to stroke his length, his fingers digging into the cushion.

"I’ve thought long about how I wanted to return the favor...from that night” you murmur, pumping slowly, lost in the softness of him under your hands. Eddie’s head hits the back of the couch, eyes fluttering shut. You watch in a daze as his precum oozes out of his slit and trickles down, the slick gathering in your messy hands. You wanted a taste so badly. You stop momentarily, which causes him to pick his head back up only to see you resting your head against the meat of his thigh, eyes big and mouth parted. 

"The night you made me feel so good, Eddie," you whisper against his skin and plant open mouth kisses to his thigh before picking up the pace of your strokes once more. He swears under his breath when you lean in, poking your tongue out at his slit, the taste sending a burst of flavor onto your tastebuds. You trace the rim of his tip before sealing your lips around the head, easing into a slow steady rhythm up and down. You pull back just enough to savor his taste for a moment, hands sliding along his shaft, spreading the slick as you pause to catch your breath.

"Shit, sweetheart," he chokes as you take more of him in, enjoying the way it feels when his abdominal muscles ripple and tighten under your touch. His hands thread into your hair, holding you there as he watches, the shape of him pressing boldly against the inside of your cheek and basking in the warmth of your mouth closing around him.

“If I wasn’t already dead, you’d be the death of me.” You now move at an agonizing pace, reducing him to mindless babbling, especially when you cup and knead his balls. 

It’s when he feels your throat contract around the tip of his cock, he quickly reaches out for you. The sensation threatened to undo him completely. You reluctantly agree to pull away, a drooling mess, after hearing his incessant pleas to release him.

He’s quick to remove his leather jacket but just before he can fully rid himself of it, he pauses, seeing you reach for the hem of your shirt. The mounds of our breasts, restrained by your bra, out on display, gaze darkening with renowned lust. Your movements felt slow and deliberate especially when you moved them to unhook the garment, and Eddie was eager to see more skin.

The fabric of your bottoms pools at your ankles until you kick them away, leaving you almost completely exposed but still vulnerable in the dimly lit room.

His hands reach for your waist, pulling them close to face level, so he can press soft kisses to either side of your hips while his eyes are looking up at you through his shaggy bangs. He wasn’t just looking at you; he was worshiping you. His fingers hook into the thin, delicate material of your underwear, knuckles grazing the skin of your hips as they begin the slow descent of your legs.  

You gently push him back so you could reclaim your seat on his lap once more. The scent of leather and smoke invades your nostrils as you peel away the heavy jacket from his frame, his Hellfire baseball tee following suit.

Gawking at the ink that litters his pale skin, your fingers feel like ice against him as you messily trace the outline of the design. Seeing Eddie like this, branded by his own rebellion was turning you on, and made you bite your lip hard to ground yourself. A fleeting thought of Steve crossed your mind - unmarked and devoid of a dangerous edge - and the contrast to Eddie made the air in the room much thicker. 

The friction of your bodies made your heads spin as you grind against his cock. Every shift of your weight causes him to involuntarily thrust upwards where you met. Eddie was a blur when he suddenly had you on your back, his body instantly hovering over yours. 

His mouth seeking yours in a frantic kiss, dark curls falling like a curtain around your face. One hand braced beside your head while the other slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You swallow his moans as his hips roll, dragging out the friction until it’s almost unbearable. 

“God” he breathes, pulling back just a fraction, lips slick and swollen, dark eyes blown wide. Pulling back he searches your eyes for that final, silent permission. 

“Please,” you nod eagerly, guiding his cock to your entrance, rubbing the tip through your wet folds for easy entry. When he finally pushes forward, the crown breaching, a sharp gasp escapes you both - finding relief in something that’s been far too long denied. 

Rhythm comes naturally to Eddie as he soon begins to move, unhurried, savoring every moment inside of you. Each thrust builds toward that white-hot intensity you crave. You feel the fullness of him consume you, the initial sting of each thrust eased into a deep, satisfying pleasure. 

He finds your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours, pinning them above your head with a possessive grip, like he’s afraid you might vanish. 

“I can’t-I need to cum, Eddie.” you choke, voice wrecked as the pressure coils tight in your belly.

“Look at me,” he rasps, forcing your gaze to his dark eyes blown wide, glossy with need.

He needed to see it, the moment before the dam breaks - when you shatter for him. 

"I’m close,” you whimper, your back arching off the cushions, as tiny sparks race through you, ready to explode. 

“Yeah?” he asks, mouth hot against your neck. His grip tightens, hips slowing as he drags himself through you inch by agonizing inch, each deeper than the previous.   

“Eddie, please” your head thrashing back against the cushion, fingers digging between his as the tension in your core twisted into an aching knot. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” his lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low with a primal rumble. “Let go,” he instructs while refocusing his attention on you.   

That was it. Your release tears through you with a sharp, visceral gasp. You cry out as it hits you hard - like an old guitar string snapping and white-hot shock waves that momentarily blind you. 

Eddie’s struggling to keep it together as he watches the tears track down your face. You don’t want him to hold on any longer, desperate to see him cum. 

“Inside,” you breathed, “Do it, inside me,” you repeat the broken. 

His release crashes into him with a rush, your name tearing from his lips. You barely have time to catch your breath before his face starts to crack, he dips his head, but you catch his jaw. It’s your turn to watch him. You force his eyes to stay on yours - you want to watch him come undone. He’s not far long, not with the way your pussy pulses around him, before he goes rigid.

“Fuck,” you groan, feeling him spill deep inside, his body wrecked with tremors as his climax rippled through him. Your name falls repeatedly from his lips followed by a low, guttural moan after the last spurt. 

When he finally pulls out, he hisses softly, catching the mess as it spills freely, staining the couch—thankfully, no one here to care.

He rolls onto his side next to you, the small space keeping you close. One arm slips around your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles as you both breathe through the last of it. The world feels distant now, quiet, soft. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple and pulls you closer, giving you all the time you need to catch your breath.

Free.

You felt free here, wherever or whatever here was, you still weren’t sure. 

"I could stay like this forever," you whispered, closing your eyes. "I could just forget about everything. I could die happy…here with you."

The reason you didn't want to go back wasn't just about Eddie; it was about the crushing weight of a world that felt too demanding. And here? There were no expectations. There were no stressors and no more searching for answers that were impossible or would take a lifetime to find. Here you were free. 

As much as Eddie wanted to hear that, he knew it wasn’t appropriate. "Don't say that,” he responds, his breath fanning your lips. 

"Why not?" You ask as you trace the black orb of the lone ring he wore on his right hand.  

"Because I know what forever looks like for a guy like me," his voice dipping into vulnerable territory. "It’s a void. And you... you're a brightness with a future ahead." He looks down at you and pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with an almost desperate grip. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent.

You didn’t have an answer to that, so you both lied there in the silence, holding onto a lie because the truth was too heavy to carry.

The room suddenly started to grow cold and vibrate. 

It was a low-frequency hum that was all too familiar for Eddie that it made the hair on the back of his neck stand. He’d been through this before. Twice with you when you tried to reach out to him via the Ouija board. He was in the middle of putting his clothes back on, when he lost his balance sliding on his boots. 

You reached out, steadying him, "Eddie? What’s happening?" your eyes wide with fear and concern. 

"I don't know," he gritted out, his form flickering like a bad television signal. "It feels like... someone is trying to talk to me…through the Ouija board.” The hum grew louder. 

The veil between this world and yours was thinning, and through the static, a voice bled through. It was faint, desperate, and unmistakably familiar.

"Is it Steve?" you asked instantly, your voice rising with a frantic sort of hope. "Is he using the board to find us?"

The name hit Eddie harder than the invisible force pulling at his soul. He saw the way your expression shifted, the spark of light in your eyes at the mere mention of him. It caused a sharp pang in his chest that had nothing to do with the supernatural. Even here, in this hollowed-out version of reality, Steve was the anchor you were looking for. 

Eddie wanted to say something witty to mask his jealousy, but he didn't have time to process it as he started to slowly disappear. Only he could hear Steve’s voice clearly because it was him being summoned, not you. 

"Eddie, wait!" You lunged for him, but your fingers passed right through. He didn’t even get to answer you because he suddenly vanished. 

The silence that followed was absolute. The humming stopped, the vibrations ceased, and you were left standing there alone. And for the first time since arriving, the shadows of this purgatory began to weigh in on you.

Steve had to do this. 

He was internally arguing with himself as he sat in front of the Ouija board again. His knuckles were white as he gripped the planchette, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.

“Come on, I know you’re lurking around here, Munson,” Steve called out, almost unsure. Was Eddie still here? His voice was steady, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes - the fear of a man who was running out of options.

Eddie watched from the corner of the room. He’d been trying to stay hidden, fighting the pull of the board, but as amusing as it was watching "King Steve" fumble with the occult, it was almost too painful to watch.

Steve was beginning to grow frustrated until finally the planchette jerked under his hands.

“There you are!” Steve exhaled, his head snapping up to the empty air where Eddie stood. He hadn’t revealed himself yet, so he was looking at an empty room, but by God was he proud of himself for getting this to work. 

Ever since your energy intertwined with Eddie, he found it easier to appear where he wanted. The board would take longer, so he allowed himself to materialize in front of Steve.  “What the hell do you want, Harrington?”

“Oh, good. You remember me,” Steve said, a dry, nervous laugh trailing behind.

“The fuck? Of course, I remember you. You don't exactly forget the guy who spent four years being the biggest douche to you in high school.”

“Come on. I’m sorry. Really, but that’s not me anymore,” Steve pleaded. He looked at the board, then back at Eddie. “Would I be here fucking with a Ouija board, talking to a ghost, if I hadn't changed? I’m doing this for her.”

Eddie’s posture stiffened. The sarcasm drained out of him, replaced by a dark, protective cloak. “You know where she is, don’t you?” Steve pressed.

He could see Eddie fighting an internal battle, his spectral form flickering with the intensity of it. “Eddie, if you know where she is, you can bring her back. You have to.” Steve begged. 

“What if she doesn’t want to come back,” Eddie said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

The words hit Steve like a physical blow. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Did she tell you that?”

Eddie went silent, staring at the floor. You had mentioned it, but you never confirmed it. You didn’t know what you wanted. The silence was an answer in itself, and it gutted Steve. He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “Look, Eddie, you’ve gotten some time to know her. You know how she is…how she gets when she’s scared or overwhelmed-”

“She’s not scared or overwhelmed, Harrington. Maybe she’s tired of living in a world that doesn't care. She deserves better. She’s special.”

“I know she is,” Steve agreed. “But you know she has to come back. This isn't her time. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry you’re stuck here, but you can’t let her stay just because you’re lonely. You have to let her live.” As harsh as it sounded, Eddie knew he was right. “Bring her back, please.”

“I don’t know how!” Eddie yelled, the trailer shook with his frustration.

“What?”

“I said I don’t know how! I’m a ghost, Harrington, not a god! I can’t even leave this trailer, let alone cross to the other side. You think if I had that kind of power, I’d still be in Hawkins? Even when I was alive, all I wanted to do was get the hell out of this town.”

Steve stared at him, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “So, she’s stuck? Until her body just… gives up?” He looked down at the board, a desperate idea forming…and like a lightbulb going off, he came up with one. “The board. Can I use it to reach her?”

“I don’t know. She isn't dead,” Eddie said skeptically.

“But you’re in the same place, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then if I can reach you, I can reach her too.” Steve’s eyes lit up with hope. He wasn’t wrong. You did hear him after all, but whether you could reveal yourself to Steve through the Ouija board was a different thing. 

Deciding on his next move, Steve frantically began setting up the planchette on the Ouija board again. “Alright, good talk. I guess you can go back to doing whatever ghost stuff it is that you do. I need to focus on bringing her back.”

Eddie blinked, a dry smirk returning to his face. “Rude.”

“Hey, Munson,” Steve called out just as Eddie began to fade into the shadows. Steve looked at him with wholehearted sincerity. “I really am sorry. For everything. For high school, for the way things ended… all of it. Even for now.”

Eddie paused, his form slowly evaporating. Now. He was even apologizing for you. He looked at Steve and finally saw the man he had become. The one that you were so fond of. 

“Whatever, Harrington,” Eddie murmured. “Just make sure, whatever she decides on… she’s happy.”

As Eddie vanished, he felt a strange weightlessness. For the first time since he’d died, the bitterness didn't feel so heavy. 

Your voice is fragile as you materialize in front of him. 

“Steve?”

"Oh, thank God! It worked—it actually worked!" Steve said letting out a huge sigh of relief, the crushing pressure of his plan gone now that you’re here. 

The sound of his voice anchored you. You turned toward the source, your feet moving before your brain could even process the reality of him. You collided in the center of the room, Steve’s arms wrapping around you tightly. 

You pulled back just enough to look at him, his face pale and etched with exhaustion. "What are you doing? Are you using the Ouija board?" 

A million questions spiraled through your mind. Steve hated that board; he was a man of logic and tangible things. 

"I got desperate," he admitted, his breath hitching. "I needed to find you. I couldn't just sit there while you slipped away... to wherever you've been." He paused, his expression flickered with the pain he’s been put through the last few days. "I got to Eddie before I found you."

The name hit you like a physical blow. "You talked to Eddie?"

The way your voice cracked was all the confirmation Steve needed. In that silent, heavy beat of air between you, the truth settled. He knew. He knew about how you’d developed feelings for the boy the rest of the world had branded a monster.

"Oh," you whispered, dropping your gaze. 

"Honey, I need you to come back," Steve pleaded, his grip tightening on your shoulders. He wouldn’t allow himself to give up now. He would fight for you. 

"I don't know how. Steve, I think... I think I’m tied to him. To Eddie."

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What does that mean?"

"I don’t know if it’ll work but I think I know who did it. I know who killed him," you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth. "I think if we can get the rest of Hawkins to see the truth, then maybe I can come back and Eddie can move on…” This had to be the solution, right? At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself when you were alone earlier. “But unless I can wake up, I need you to be my hands, Steve. I need you to prove it."

"How? I don't even know where to start."

"My desk," you frantically said gaze moving towards the corner of the room. "The stack of papers next to my computer.” You both race the short distance to the tiny table. 

You saw his eyes scan the chaotic landscape of your desk until they landed on the folder labeled E. Munson. As he flipped it open, the silence stretched. He hadn't realized how far down the rabbit hole you went.

"I know it’s pathetic," you murmured, watching his stunned face. "I’ve been living in Eddie’s case files for weeks. You probably think I’ve lost my mind, but Hopper let me reopen the case." 

"No," Steve said, his head snapping up to meet your eyes. “This is what you do. You help people. It’s not pathetic. This is incredible. I just didn't realize..."

"I know where the murderer is, Steve. He’s in Hawkins’ Correctional Facility."

Steve blinked, the gears turning. "Okay. He’s in jail already. Who am I looking for? Some drifter? An out-of-towner?"

"Jason Carver."

The name hung in the air like a curse. "Carver? Whoa. Wait. You’re saying Jason Carver killed Eddie Munson?"

"Why is that so hard to believe? It makes perfect sense, Steve. He had a motive."

"No, you’re right," Steve conceded, his voice dropping an octave. "It’s just... how has nobody seen this? How is he sitting in a cell for something else while this stays buried?"

"Because no one can prove it and because no one cares about a freak, right?," you said bitterly. "Who else in this godforsaken town was going to get Eddie justice? His uncle? A few 'freaks' from the Hellfire Club? No one was going to take them seriously. They need a voice."

Steve looked at you, a new kind of warmth, and a trace of something like jealousy, shining in his eyes. He admired the passion you had for your work and advocacy for victims, but he was also annoyed at the amount of attention you put into and gave Eddie. You barely knew him. "You. You are going to do it, Detective."

"Steve, don't—"

"I’m not mocking you," he interrupted softly. "I think it’s pretty badass. You solved a cold case from a hospital bed or in another dimension technically. You almost got yourself killed doing it, but you solved it." He looked away for a second, his jaw tight. "I’m going to bring you back. And then we’re going to finish this."

“I don’t know if this is going to actually work, Steve, but I want to try everything we can to help Eddie pass on,” you whispered.

"It will work and he will. Because of you." Steve assures you, bringing you into his arms again before his time with you is up. 

"So, Steve? Will you go to prison?" You ask, looking at him while resting your chin against his chest. 

Eddie grew restless as he awaited your return.

“Oh, cool. You’re back!” he said, taking a few strides to you. While he was relieved you were back, the heavy expression on your face couldn’t keep him from asking what was wrong.

“I know who did it,” you whispered. You didn’t need to elaborate. He knew who you were talking about. 

“It?” Eddie tilted his head, his dark curls falling over his face.

You reached up to brush the strands away and nodded slowly. “Who?” he asked.

“Jason.”

Eddie’s expression shifted from confusion to a cold realization. “Son of a bitch,” he breathed, a bitter laugh escaping him. He looked away, in disbelief of not putting it together himself years ago. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“No.” He shook his head sharply. “It should’ve been obvious, right?”

“This town treated you so horribly,” you said, reaching your hand out to place it on his arm as a sign of comfort, although it was you who probably needed the comfort with your eyes beginning to swell up with tears for Eddie. “He got away with it.”

“Hey, sweetheart. None of that.” Eddie said, referring to your tears and stepped closer, voice softening. “I’m fine. You’re here with me now. I’m fine.”

You took a shaky breath, the reality of what you had to do pressing against your chest. “Eddie, I can’t stay here.”

“What? Yes, you can. You said it yourself. You’re here now. You can do whatever you want.”

“I want to go home, Eddie.”

His face contorted, a flash of hurt crossing his features then anger. The words just flowed as he spoke, “It’s Steve, huh?” 

“Please don’t bring him into this,” you pleaded.

“But he’s got a role in all this, doesn’t he?” Eddie paced the small space, his movements jagged. He knew letting Steve talk to you would make you change your mind. “King Steve, coming to the rescue of the damsel in distress.”

“He’s not who you thought he was, Eddie. He’s changed.”

“Sure, that’s rich,” Eddie snapped, his voice echoing against the walls. “I’ve known him my whole life and he’s done nothing but made my life a living hell. Why is he the one you're choosing?” The rage just took over him. It was like high school all over again - guys like Steve always won. 

“Because he’s out there helping get justice for you!” You stood your ground, your voice rising to match his. “I asked him to go to the prison. I asked him to get the truth out of Jason. He’s the key, Eddie. He’s the one who can help you finally move on.”

Eddie froze. The anger drained out of him, leaving him looking smaller. “I don’t want to move on.”

“Why? Aren’t you tired of being stuck in this trailer?”

“I was,” Eddie said, his voice barely a whisper. He looked around the room, then back at you. “I was so tired of it… until you moved in. You gave me a reason to stay.”

The honesty in his voice broke something inside you. You stepped into his space, reaching out to take his hands. They felt like mist and ice, but you held on anyway.

“Eddie,” you said softly. “I know I didn't know you when you were alive. And yeah, you absolutely terrorized me when I first moved in. But you’re so special to me. You hit me harder than anyone I’ve ever known.” You felt tears prickling your eyes. “I would love to stay here. My heart hurts for the life you didn't get to live. Maybe in another world, we would've had a chance. But it was wrong of me to give you false hope and stay here when you know I still have my own life to live.”

Eddie looked down at your joined hands, accepting your decision, “I do. I know.”

You leaned in, closing the gap between your lips, a goodbye disguised as a promise.

“I’ll never forget you, Eddie Munson.”

A thick pane of plexiglass separated the two former kings of Hawkins High, but the tension between them was enough to shatter it.

Jason Carver looked different. Prison did a number on him since he last remembered the Golden Boy. The varsity jacket was gone, replaced by a drab orange jumpsuit, but the self-righteous fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed. He sat down, the phone receiver clattering as he picked it up.

“Harrington?”

“Carver,” Steve replied, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth he usually carried.

“What an unusual surprise.” Jason leaned back, a smug smile on his face. “Still hanging around Hawkins, huh? Love this shithole that much?”

“I’m not here for small talk, Carver.” Steve gripped the receiver tight. He could feel the slight itch of the wire taped to his chest - a wire that led directly to Hopper, who was sitting in a surveillance van just outside the gates. It took a while to get him to agree to this, but with proof of your findings and one mention of your name, the Chief of Police knew he couldn’t turn away. 

“Okay, so what do I owe this lovely visit? Come to talk about the good old days? Back when people actually respected us?”

Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes but instead narrowed them as he leaned in. He needed to push the right buttons. He needed Jason to feel superior. “I’m going to get straight to it. I can help you, but I need you to be honest with what I’m about to ask you. Can you do that?”

Jason sat there for a few seconds, seemingly contemplating this whole interaction. Why does Steve care? Then again, he’s been here a few years and he can confidently say he hates prison, so he takes the bait on a faster ticket out. He lost his glory days, his girlfriend, his freedom. What else does he have left? 

“Did you really kill Chrissy? People are talking again, Jason. They say you snapped.”

Jason went stone cold. The smugness vanished, replaced by an  anger that made his knuckles turn white as he gripped the phone. “Of course not, you asshole. I loved her.”

“It was just a question,” Steve said, raising a hand dismissively. “If you didn’t do it, then why are you here? Why take the fall?”

“I didn’t. This town is corrupt!” Jason hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating pitch. “Hopper and his goons weren’t doing a damn thing to get Chrissy justice. We all know who really killed her. They wanted to prolong it with useless trials and bullshit. They were going to let a monster walk free.”

Steve felt his heart gallop. This was it. “The actual murderer? You know who actually killed Chrissy? Come on, Jason. Everyone knows you’re just in here because you couldn't prove it was anyone else.” Steve pushed. 

Steve wasn’t wrong. Jason was found guilty of Chrissy’s murder. He knew he couldn’t control her anymore and the closer they approached graduation, he knew she’d be leaving him and he couldn’t take that. His male ego wouldn’t let him have it. Him believing he could pin her murder on someone else, someone like Eddie Munson, showed the type of God complex he possessed. He didn’t expect the town to give the freak a fair trial. He believed Eddie was guilty of corrupting his girlfriend and he was outraged. 

Jason slammed his free hand against the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “I had to take care of him myself.”

“You were found to be Chrissy’s murderer by the court, Jason,” Steve prodded, his voice smooth and doubting. “What do you mean you 'took care' of him?”

“Someone had to take Munson out and I knew it had to be me! He corrupted her!” Jason barked, the confession spilling out of him like venom. He leaned in close to the glass, his eyes manic. “I cornered that freak. I watched the light go out of his eyes, Steve. I gave Chrissy the peace the police wouldn't. I killed Eddie Munson, and I’d do it again a thousand times over.”

A heavy silence followed. Jason looked triumphant, as if he expected Steve to nod in solemn, comraderic approval.

Instead, Steve cracked a slight smirk. It wasn't a friendly smile; it was the look of a man who had just won a game the other person didn't even know they were playing. He reached up and lightly scratched at his chest, right over the hidden microphone.

“Thanks, Jason,” Steve said, his voice now chillingly calm. “That’s exactly what the Chief needed to hear.”

Jason’s face drained of color. He looked at Steve’s chest, then back at his eyes, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. Before he could scream or lunge at the glass, the heavy steel doors at the back of the room swung open. Two guards marching toward him.

“Eddie’s name will officially be cleared,” Steve said, standing up but not before leaving him with parting words, “And you? You’re never seeing the sun again,” then hanging the receiver back on the hook. 

As the guards hauled a shouting, struggling Jason Carver away, Steve walked out of the prison. Before he meets up with Hopper, he looks up at the bright, afternoon sky. 

“We got him, Honey,” he whispered. “You did it.”

There was a moment where the urgency to return to the hospital, to the beeping monitors and Steve’s worried face vanished. 

The "other side" didn't matter anymore. When the trailer didn't feel like a cage or a crime scene, but a sanctuary. 

The stress of the real world didn’t exist here. The endless bills and late payments you could barely scrap up the money for. The late nights at the station that made you feel your aspirations to become a detective seemed far away. The guilt you felt for blowing people off because you were exhausted. The confusing feelings you had towards Steve. None of those were here. The world had a way of wishing you’d just disappear. Perhaps, this is what you were looking for when you left home and set out to Hawkins. Maybe you needed to encounter Eddie to find solace. But did you have to be dead? Almost dead. 

A few days had passed, and you thought more and more about the plan you and Steve concocted. Was it worth trying? What if it failed? What would be your next move? How long could you afford to be hooked up at the hospital? The damning thoughts earlier were going persistent each time. It had to work. 

You gasped, clutching your arm. The warmth of Eddie’s body, still encapsulating you, suddenly felt fleeting. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Eddie’s eyes widened with immediate concern.

“My arm,” you whispered, the pain making your vision swim. “It’s… it’s like I’m being pulled. I think-“ the pain was so intense you couldn’t finish your sentence, but you both knew what was beginning to happen. You just didn’t think it would be soon. Your body was calling you. Your life, your future was tugging you away from this suspended reality.

You leaned your forehead against his chest, the faint chill of his form a stark contrast to the burning pain in your arm. “I don’t want to leave you yet.”

He squeezed his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever had before. “I know, sweetheart. God, I know. But you said it yourself. You have a life to live. And I… I’ve lived mine.” He pulled back, holding your face in his hands and leaning in to kiss your lips. His touch was cold, but tender. 

“Eddie,” you whisper against his lips, his image beginning to blur as you reach out for him, only for your hand to pass through him again. You could faintly hear him thank you for everything before the darkness of his world imploded around you, replaced by a blinding white light and the sudden, overwhelming sensation of falling.

To everyone else, "waking up" was a miracle. To you, it felt bittersweet.

The dull ache of your arm was a reminder of a reality you had grown to dread. 

Living was exhausting. Living meant waking up every day in a world where justice was a fairy tale. Living in the trailer park, people looked at you with pity. This town judged you harshly and you were stuck in it. The reality check was more than just physical pain; it was the realization that life required a bravery you weren't sure you had. And you were scared of the silence that would follow when you finally couldn't feel him anymore.

Coming back to your body felt like putting on a heavy dress. The silence of the "in-between" was shattered by the harsh, rhythmic beep... beep... beep... of the heart monitor. Loud and mechanical, it pulsed in time with the throbbing ache behind your eyes. The clinical smell of bleach and antiseptic replaced the woodsy scent you were growing accustomed to.

For a split second, you felt a phantom pressure on your hand - the lingering sensation of Eddie’s fingers you yearned for before the cold reality of a hospital bedsheet took its place. You gripped the rough, white sheets to ground yourself.

Your eyelids felt glued shut. A groan catching in your dry throat as you fought the heaviness.

"Steve?" you croaked.

Beside the bed, there was a frantic rustle of fabric and the sound of a chair scraping harshly against the floor. A hand, warm, solid, and shaking, grabbed one of yours. 

"I'm here. I'm right here," Steve’s voice cracked. He sounded like he hadn't slept in a week. "Don't go back. Stay here with me, please.” He pleads noticing your eyes struggling to stay open. 

When you finally forced your eyes open. The fluorescent lights were blinding, making you wince, but as your vision cleared, you saw him. Steve was leaning over you, his hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes, looking exactly like the man who had just used an Ouija board to talk to you from another dimension, went to prison to extract a confession from a murderer - all for you.

"Did you...?" you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs. 

Steve let out a breath that was half-sob, half-laugh. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper—the top sheet from your E.Munson file.

You closed your eyes for a moment, a single tear slipping out. You were back. But as you felt the warmth of Steve’s hand, a small, hollow part of your chest ached for Eddie. Not only could you still feel the faint, ghostly echo of his kiss on your lips, but as your other hand untwisted itself from the sheets, your palm revealed something hard in it - something obsidian. 

Some days have passed as you eased back into the real world. 

Ever since you returned, there was an air of delicacy around you. Especially now, as you carefully sit on the edge of the couch, your hands fidgeting with the ends of the blanket that Steve fetched for you. Steve, who had been with you all through physical therapy and staying with you in the trailer the last few days. He hasn’t left your side since being discharged. 

"I thought I lost you," he choked out, his voice shaky. While it has been a few days, you both haven’t had the time to really talk about everything. "Honey, I would’ve spent every second of the rest of my life looking. I’d go through wherever it was you were…hell, I’d go through hell too. I’d buy every Ouija board on this planet and scream your name into the void to find you.” 

Taking your hands in his, gripping them with enough pressure to convey his emotion, “I’d do it all over if it meant you ended up back here with me. I love you. I love you so much." Your heart skips as he repeated it. You’d never said it to each other until now. Somehow, you knew he always did though.

When you looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time without the fog of your own pride or the walls you’d built to protect your heart, you noticed that the thing, the person, you’d been searching when you left home was in front of you, looking at you the entire time you’ve been in Hawkins.

Love wasn't a destination you had to earn, it was the man in front of you. Steve had fought through another realm and an evil of this one for you. You could now confidently allow yourself to be loved by him, and more importantly, finally love him back with everything you had - what he deserved. 

The realization hit you hard, your first instinct was, pushing your lips against his in a bruising kiss. His lips reciprocated instantly. His hands let yours go to cup your face as he kisses you with the same sense of urgency. "I love you, too, Steve," you mumble against his lips. "I think I always knew.” 

A smile spreads across Steve’s face as he lets out a breathless sob, the relief of knowing the feeling was mutual. 

“Hey, wait right here” he says, suddenly remembering the bag he placed on your counter. 

He retrieves a small cardboard box from it and takes his seat next to you once more, “I got you something.” 

"What’s this?" You asked curiously.

"Just a little something," Steve muttered, a faint pink tinting his cheeks. He always got nervous when you opened any of his gifts even though you liked every one of them. He put a lot of thought into them and they never missed because he paid attention.  

You pulled back the flaps of the box and out with the layers of tissue paper. When you see the ceramic item, your breath hitches. It was the same mug that Eddie had knocked over due to his jealousy of Steve. You still remembered the sound of it shattering.

You stare at it the same way you had the original. In awe and flutter, the familiar weight in your palm, it wasn't just dishware; it was a piece of Steve. You and Steve.

"Steve," you said lightly, thumb tracing the vinyl of the silly words on it. 

"I figured I’d replace the broken one." He said almost nervously, as if afraid you’d hate it. You could even hear his heart beating.  

You turn to him and smile assuring. “I love it,” you say, planting another kiss on his lips. “Thank you.” You realize there was no sense in mourning the broken pieces of your old life...because like a broken mug, you could pick up the pieces and start new. 

The wind at Hawkins Cemetery always seemed to blow a little colder than anywhere else in town. 

Eddie’s grave had once been a site of vandalism, but today was different. The news of Jason’s confession had hit the Hawkins Post that morning. Eddie Munson was no longer a murderer; he was a victim.

"Looks like someone got here first," Steve noted, gesturing toward the now clean headstone and fresh batch of flowers in the center. 

"We did it," you whispered, the words catching in your throat as you clutch the lone ring in your jacket pocket. 

Steve stepped closer, looking down at the grave. "I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, Munson," his voice was low and sincere. "I spent years being a dick to guys like you just because I thought I had to. Rest easy, man." 

You reach out to take Steve’s hand in yours - the same hand that had held yours while you were drifting in the dark, the one that saved you.

"You're not a ghost anymore, Eddie," you murmured, “I hope you’re happy.”

A sudden, sharp gust of wind swept through the trees. It didn't feel like the chilling, spectral kind from the trailer. It felt cool and calming. And you could’ve sworn that for a fleeting second, the faint familiar scent that once comforted you, wafted by, giving you all the assurance that you needed. 

Life had moved fast after the trial. 

A couple of years later, Steve now wielded a whistle and a chalkboard, finding peace and fulfillment in helping kids navigate the same hallways and field he once had. 

You, on the other hand, had traded your amateur sleuth files for a badge. Your hard work and time had proven you worthy by Hopper, who aided & guided you in the direction to officially becoming a detective for the Hawkins PD. It wasn't always easy, especially with how deep you went in, treating every victim like Eddie, save for using the Ouija board, and every time you cleared a case, you felt the weight of it drift away, reminding you of the purpose. To make sure no one else ended up forgotten like Eddie was.

You’d finally managed and were convinced to move in with Steve into a new house. The dirt at the trailer park had always felt like it was clinging to something dead compared to suburbs that smelled of freshly cut grass. Right now, it smelled of a faintly sweet scent of cedar from the nursery you had spent all weekend painting, staring intently at the designs you had free handed. 

"Hey, detective. You’re overthinking again. I can hear the gears turning from the hallway."

Steve teased and leaned against the doorframe, still wearing his Hawkins Baseball pullover. A whistle hung around his neck, and his hair was windblown from a long afternoon on the diamond. 

"Are they crooked? I’ve been staring at them so long, you’d think I was trying to solve a case,” you ask, referring to the stars you drew on the wall, a hand resting on the gentle curve of your stomach, "Old habits die hard, I guess."

Steve walked over, wrapped his arms around you, his expression turning serious but infinitely tender. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "The only thing you need to solve is this little one’s name,” his hand resting over yours on your bump, “...and maybe what’s for dinner.” That last bit earned him a light slap. His expression softens instantly as you look up at him, dipping his head to give you a quick kiss.

“They look just fine, Picasso.” He assures you, squeezing the embrace lightly. "Think they’re going to be a shortstop or a cop?"

"I don’t know, but I hope they have your hair," you laughed, a hand reaching over so you could run your fingers through his floppy hair. 

“And your spirit,” he adds, resting his chin between the crook of your neck as you lean back into him, the pair of you stare at the drawings on the wall. 

You sigh gently, swaying side-to-side. "Whatever they want to do, I just hope they’ll be happy.” 

There was nothing wrong with his BMW, so you were a little confused. He had the best car from the lot, courtesy of his parents, and while your own car was still holding its own, you remained steadfast in your refusal to mooch off their wealth, which they’d grown indifferent to. You knew they meant well in their own way. They gave Steve everything he wanted and only the best for him, but you just weren’t cut from the same cloth. 

“Where did you get that?” your first reaction was to question it, although you already had a good feeling from where. 

“At the dealership,” he answered simply. 

“Okay, not what I meant, babe. I mean how and why?” you clarify not one for playing dumb with him at that moment. 

“My parents wanted to surprise us,” he explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to do. 

“There’s nothing wrong with the car you have,” you noted.

“Had,” he corrects you before revealing the fate of his car, “they traded the BMW.” 

“What?” you exclaimed, taken aback. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Come on, it’s just a car. People trade in for new ones all the time.” Everything was just that easy for the Harringtons. “Okay, not everyone...or all the time,” he admits, seeing the unamused look on your face. “I didn’t know you liked the BMW that much.” 

“It’s not that…I don’t know,” you trailed off, trying to not sound sentimental. “We just had a lot of memories with the BMW.” 

Steve’s expression softened as he started reminiscing about the nostalgia tied to his old car. He picked you up for your first date in that car. He drove you to work with that car when yours would inconveniently break down. You both went on several road trips in that car. Among a lot of other things…in that car. 

“Couldn’t they have given us something else? Like…I don’t know, a house in Chicago maybe,” you unrealistically suggest, but wouldn’t completely put it past them. 

“What’s wrong with the house we have right now?” He asks, failing to grasp your point. 

“This is your parents’ house!” You remind him, gesturing toward the big house behind you. 

“They barely live here. It’s practically ours.” Steve reasons. 

“Not the point,” you say, hands on your hips, not amused by that answer either. 

“Whatever. Let’s take this for a spin.”

You sigh and reluctantly make your way to the passenger side, where he held the door open for you. 

~

Steve took the long way to everything during the whole drive and you were getting bored fast. Admittedly, the ride was smooth and the seats were very comfortable. You struggle to keep your eyes open and head up right, trying to not doze off. 

It was such a mundane thing, Steve driving around town with one hand on the wheel while the other on your thigh, sometimes in your hand. You didn’t think much of it at first, but when you start to feel him get a little too handsy, you rouse awake. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Well, you mentioned how we have so much history with the BMW…I was thinking maybe we can make some memories here,” he shrugs casually, continuing to drive through the backroads. 

“I’m not having sex with you in this car just for that reason,” you retort. 

“Why not? It has a self-driving feature,” he counters like that would help his case. 

“That still doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay attention to the road.” 

“How is you giving me road head in the BMW going to be any different in here?” 

“Steve!” You yell appalled by his bluntness on the topic. 

“If anything, it’ll be easier for me to keep the car on the road.” He’s really trying to upsell you on that self-driving feature, “…and the windows are tinted. No one will see us.” He can see the gears in your head turning, contemplating your next move. You just need a little nudge and Steve knows how to push your buttons. 

“You can’t tell me that car sex isn’t hot.” His hand sliding further up your skirt. He can feel the heat radiating from your core through the thin barrier of your underwear, which boosts his confidence in his plan. He has to bite his bottom lip to conceal the smirk. 

There were so many things wrong about this like endangering not only your lives but others, getting caught, and wrecking the car to name a few, but despite that, he’s right; you can’t deny the idea. It was dangerous but also thrilling. 

You huff at his triumph, unbuckle your seatbelt, and turn to face him. Giddy, he pushes his chair back to make room for you, but at enough distance for him to ensure he can still reach the steering wheel should he need to. 

“You’re taking us home right after this,” you demand, watching him nod his head eagerly, then reach to grab him. “Shit, Steve,” you pull your hand back not expecting him to be half hard already. 

“What? You’re the one that put the idea of us fucking in a car in my head. I can’t help but think about it,” he says defensively, trying to shift some of the blame on you. “Plus, your legs look really nice.” 

Shaking your head, you refocus your attention on undressing his lower half. Steve raises his hips as best as he could to help you tug his pants and boxers down enough for his cock to spring out. 

You wrap your hand around his length, giving it a light squeeze before pumping him in a gradual pace you knew that got him going. You watch his lips part at the sensation you’re conjuring from him, and it only encourages you to continue. Seeing Steve come undone is one of your favorite things. 

Leaning over the console, you get closer, poke your tongue out to swirl it around the head, collecting the small bead of pre-cum pooling from the slit. Your mouth waters at the taste, hungry for more, so you skip the teasing and go right for it. Steve sighs when you take him in your mouth, your lips enclosed around his cock.  

You look up high to the left to see he’s thrown his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, so you pull yourself off him. “Hey! Eyes on the road!” He jolts, your warning ringing through his ears, straightening up a bit and a hand back on the wheel. 

You’re soon bobbing your head up and down his length, a hand assisting in the job before you slowly start taking more of him inch by inch. He bunches up your hair in his hands to get a good view, sneaking a peek while still trying to keep his eyes trained on the road. Feeling the head of cock hitting the back of your throat stirs something animalistic in Steve. You have to keep your hands on his hips to force them down, so he doesn’t lodge himself any deeper than you could handle. 

“Fuck. You’re so good at that.“ His voice drones with the sloppy sounds from working your mouth on his cock. 

You hold him in place for a few seconds until you pull away, in desperate need for air, a mix of fluids running down your chin, but continue fisting his cock, feeling him grow harder.

Satisfied, you carefully maneuver over to him, claiming his lap as your new seat. It’s an awkward angle, but nothing new to you both. You hike your skirt up and push the slit of your underwear to the side. You let out a long moan as you lower yourself down on his thick cock. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you close your eyes to focus on the sensation wracking through your body, doing your best to ignore the sting from being stretched out. 

“Yes,” he lets out as you’re fully seated on his thick cock, allowing him to bask in the warmth of your wet and inviting pussy. “You’re so tight,” he whines, feeling your walls contract around him involuntarily, waiting patiently for you to get used to his girth. 

It’s always a bit of a struggle, but once you get accustomed to him, you pull your face away, brace your palms on his clothed chest and start to bounce on his cock. High enough to keep the tip snuggled inside and low enough to feel his balls press up against the bottom of your ass. He looks down, gawking at the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in you. 

“You’re so wet,” he says, licking his lips at the delicious sight. “You like riding my cock don’t you?” He knows you do. Your juices make certain of that when it starts overflowing that it starts to drip down his balls, soaking his seat. 

He’s just eating up the effects that his words have on you, the vulnerable look displayed on your face, so different from the one that was reprimanding him earlier. “Making such a mess,” he chastises, grabbing a hold of your chin forcibly to look at him. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open from the orgasm building up in you. Once he has your attention, his stare is intense as he gravely speaks out, “my dirty girl,” before smashing your lips together, his tongue inviting himself in your mouth seeking your own.  

It’s not enough for Steve to be just content with his cock buried deep inside you, he pulls your top down, your breasts spilling out. “God, I love your tits,” he groans, taking his other hand off the wheel so he could get a good fill of them in his hands. 

Moaning at the sensation when his mouth latches onto them, teasingly nibbling the hardened buds, you get more heated. You start grinding on him, your hips swiveling in circular motions. He loves when you do this because it allows him to feel every part of you, sending him into overdrive. 

“That’s it, grind on that cock, baby,” he mumbles against your chest, his hot breath fanning your skin.

“It’s so good,” you praise his cock. You let out a choked gasp when you ground harder, switching from circular to back and forth motions, “you’re so deep.” Feeling your body shiver, you try to memorize the angle where he’d just probed at, desperately needing him to hit it again. 

Your efforts proving futile, Steve notices your hips losing its rhythm, so he decides to take control. Sneaking his hands around to grope the globes of your ass, he draws you in closer to him, thrusting his cock deep inside to find it for you and judging by the volume of your moans getting louder and louder plus the way your walls contract around his member, he’s found your sweet spot. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” your voice wavering. You use the bit of strength remaining in your legs to sit up to focus on him. “Steve, I’m gonna cum,” your warning pushing him to drive it home.  

“Oh, baby,” he coos, bringing a hand up to push away the sweaty hair matted on your face. He loved watching you unravel too. He grips the side of your hips, fingers digging into your skin, not a care given about the marks they’d leave, and starts lifting you up and down his cock. 

“Right there! Fuck, yes. Steve, baby, right there.” 

“Yeah? You got it, baby.” He pistons his hips up into you, loving the way your breasts bounce from his harsh thrusts. “That’s it. Fucking come all over my cock…I’m right behind you, honey.” 

Your thighs clamped around his hips, hands twisting his shirt from the tight grip you held, you let out a silent sob as your orgasm rocks through you. Steve makes good on his word because as your walls start pulsing around his cock, it’s enough to make him come. His arms tightly wrapped around you, keeping you close and rooted down, he stills. Sensitive, you flinch and groan in bliss from feeling, the throb of each spurt of his cum shooting deep inside you.

When you both come down from the high, your body is slumped over him. Steve tilts your head leaning in to kiss you tenderly. He pulls away, a soft smile adorns his perfect face as you gaze lovingly at him. You almost forget that you’re in a moving vehicle until the warning noise breaks your catatonic state. 

“Shit,” he panics, letting go of you, quickly reaching over to align the wheel, almost crushing you in-between. You shoot him a threatening look to which he returns with a sheepish smile. 

“It’s cool! We’re alive aren’t we?” 

Shaking your head, Steve hissed as you carefully removed yourself from him, quickly sliding your panties back in place, not wanting to make a bigger mess than you already have or leave any stains before you climb over back to your seat. 

He pulls his pants back up on his own as you try to fix your appearance, but the post-coital glow doesn’t allow you to. He doesn’t look any more innocent either and he doesn’t care. These memories are yours alone. 

“Can we please go home now?” You ask, buckling up again. 

He looks over watching you draw a small heart on the foggy passenger side window, one of your quirky ways of expressing your love. 

“Yes, honey,” he says with a sweet smile, reaching over to hold your hand, and then taking the shortcut back home. 

First, it was the air conditioning unit acting wonky. You kept the place at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies or wrapped up in blankets. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there, the technicians couldn’t find a single problem with the system and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine. 

Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.

The most bizarre thing though, was things disappearing and reappearing. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from where you left it and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never had to search too far because there they were. Maybe it was all in your head? 

The eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would trail behind when you felt that breeze pass over. You couldn’t pinpoint what it exactly smelled like, a composition of something woody with amber undertones that suggested a sense of strength and warmth from its presence. One thing was for sure, it wasn’t any like your fragrances nor was it from the only person that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost a calming one to you.  

You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. You came to the conclusion you were living with a ghost. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. If anything, it helped you out more than bothered you. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or move out, but you’d worked too hard to get here and you weren’t going to let whatever entity run you out of your new home. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

Pulling the Ouija board out from the box, you place it on the table and it seems to have a hold on you. How do you prepare yourself to summon a ghost? You don’t know how long you’d been staring but it was only when the sudden knock on your door does the spell break.

You get up and make the short distance to the front door and you’re briefly greeted by your close friend Steve. Your relationship with him was close to the point where you’re not even bothered that he just makes his way inside as if he lived here with you. He’s so busy rambling about something, probably about his latest shift at the video store he worked at, that he didn’t notice how uncharacteristically quiet you were being. 

“Whoa!” He exclaims, stopping in his tracks once he sees the Ouija board laid out. Its presence was enough to effectively cut his story short. “What are you doing with that?” He asks, pointing at the object and taking a few steps away from it.  

You roll your eyes, sitting back down and reaching into the box to pull out the remaining piece, the planchette. 

“What does it look like I’m going to do with it?” You say, staring up at him blankly. 

“Shit,” he starts, running his hands through his thick hair, “okay, uh, I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were this spooky,” he says, his eyes bugging out in disbelief. 

He stands in place as if the items in front of you were cursed, but seeing that you hadn’t actually begun anything yet, there’s a bit of relief. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural. It was just wild that it was happening to you. 

“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Steve warns as he cautiously makes his way back closer. 

“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking the now empty box aside.

“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!” 

Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.

“I need to find answers, Steve!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his, if not, louder. Your once calm demeanor switching to an intense one, cutting the tension of what you were going to partake in had brought about. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own place.”

Oh yeah, he knew. Steve was the only friend you could confine in and the one person you could share your stories about your home and the experiences in it.

“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove this theory. He could see the inner turmoil you were facing and the vulnerability that cracked through your exterior after your outburst. 

“I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.” If the frustration wasn’t visible in your features, it definitely was in your voice. 

“Look,” Steve says, voice now careful, ”why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” You knew this offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Hawkins and were looking for your own place, Steve had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent…and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him. 

Steve was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and even though you'd both crossed so many lines already, a part of you feared crossing anymore would jeopardize it. Worse, what if whatever it turned out to be would just fail miserably in the end. Then where would that leave you both? He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Steve knew you simply weren’t ready and he was willing to wait. 

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face, the kind that made you feel guilty, and went back to fidgeting with the planchette in your hands. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety. He’d always been protective of you and hated seeing you upset. 

The nights he had spent in your trailer nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening to you. Steve wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out today like this. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.

The crack of thunder in the sky, slightly rattling the trailer, indicated a storm was coming and you took that as an excuse to convince Steve to leave for the night. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Steve, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page. 

“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up , walking over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Steve wasn’t mad. He knew you weren’t going to change your mind this time, but he could be patient. He was always very patient with you.

He reluctantly nods, defeated, before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but it mostly muffled against his biceps. You bask in the warmth of his embrace for a few lingering seconds, inhaling his fresh, clean scent, one that was a complete contrast to the one you were used to smelling inside your trailer, before pulling away and playfully shoving him out the door. 

As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jump, head snapping at a sudden crashing sound from the kitchen area. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you, on your last birthday from Steve, shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor. The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house just didn’t like Steve… You shook your head at that last silly thought and sighed preparing to clean up the mess. 

The gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the once clear sky and with the sounds of the fast raindrops against the windows and pavement, the lag in thunder chasing the flashes of lightning, you didn’t waste time on the mission.

What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with something so what could’ve been scarier than that. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would they be like Casper?

Would this even work? The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended. You’d seen The Exorcist and not to mention this kind of activity was very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now…

The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.

You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? There wasn’t exactly a guide on etiquette for communicating with the dead. You did your fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.

You take a deep breath in and out then begin to summon your supposed roommate.

Eddie felt bad. 

He felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t. He remembered when you were given that mug. He saw the way your face lit up after reading the stupid text on it that only you and the person who gifted it to you understood the meaning behind it. 

He didn’t like Steve and he certainly didn’t like how Steve made you feel. Steve made you feel all sorts of things and Eddie knew that, which explained why Steve never experienced anything unusual in the house because Eddie didn’t like seeing you with him. He chose to not be present in Steve’s presence. Most of his kind would make it a point to make it known they hated them, but Eddie didn’t want to spook you. 

He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young, barely in his 20s before he left an ongoing cold case behind, providing no closure for his friends and his uncle.  

But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. He’d grown so attached it outraged him to see any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his home.

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of years. He tried his best to communicate with his uncle before he finally managed to move into a better place. He was proud of Wayne for working hard to get a real house for himself. He took assurance that he was able to live more comfortably now. He should’ve known his own flesh and blood wasn’t bothered or spooked out by his attempts to get his attention, so when he left, Eddie was alone for nearly three years. No one was exactly in a rush to move into a trailer, his trailer, until you came into the picture. That day you walked in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well…ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.

He tried to subtly help you with everyday things. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.

He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Steve. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Steve was already gone.

Eddie followed you back into the living room, watched as you lit the candles scattered around and dimming the lights. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. You deserved a nice night in. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently. He was already trying to guess what kind of movie you were going to turn on but when he saw what was laid out in front of you as you sat back on your couch, his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.

“Oh no,” he says as he stares at the Ouija board on the table. Eddie starts pacing in front of you, his hands bunching up his hair in a panic state. Anyone that had ever set foot in this trailer to scope it out knew this place gave off a spooky vibe. This was a tough trailer to sell because not only was it unsettling but so was the story behind it, which it was unbeknownst to you why it was so affordable. You weren’t stupid and you knew there was something or someone lurking, so this was almost bound to happen. 

“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette. You’d close your eyes to mask your fear so that should anything bad happen you wouldn’t have had to stare death right in the face. 

“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you were willingly reaching out to him. He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone in years, so now given an opportunity to do so gave him a sense of elation. 

“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Eddie argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.

He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately and effortlessly move your hands to slide the planchette over the word ‘YES’.

Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you received an answer. Now that was not your imagination. This wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you either. You’re frozen, but look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, however you don’t see anything.

At least that’s what you think. On the contrary, you’re staring right at Eddie or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock for two reasons. 

First, he was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. Secondly, he was in awe. He knew he was attracted to you, but even though you couldn’t see him, he could see you clearly and you were so beautiful to him.  

He’s scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time it excites him that he’s successfully communicating with you.

You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you thinking that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? If you were to get hurt or anything, you’d deal with Steve later. You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.

“What are you?” You ask next.

“What am I?” Eddie repeats the question, “I’m dead, sweetheart.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette still. The corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, had him comparing it to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff…either way he felt very blessed to pull such a thing as a small smile out of you. 

“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Eddie said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a real conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six months.

A particular flash of lightning followed by a clamorous thunder startles you, breaking you away from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the night.

When your heartbeat finally returned to its steady rate, you got up to turn on the lights. You made sure you blew all the candles out and doors were locked before turning in. As you walked the path to his old bedroom, Eddie watched you look back to the living room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew who it was directed towards - it was meant for him.

The days that followed, you were growing more and more curious. In your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.

You went from door to door of the trailer park doing your own investigation on who used to live in your trailer. You got mixed reviews from the neighbors, but you believed you got the gist of it down.

The trailer originally belonged to a man named Wayne Munson, who took in his nephew becoming his sole legal guardian. You dug deep at the local library, sifting through old Hawkins newspaper archives, to find out that his nephew had commonly gone by the nickname ‘Eddie’ and he wasn’t too far away in age from you. He went to the same high school as Steve, where he struggled in graduating, had a reputation of being a delinquent and someone who participated in satanic practices. The worst of his offense was being linked to the murder of a beloved teenage girl, Chrissy Cunningham.  

The accompanying images of the girl and boy in the newspaper clippings, you assumed to be Chrissy and Eddie. She was undeniably pretty and he was…cute. The tips of your ears burned and turned red as you caught yourself staring a little too long at his picture. 

Why’d that make you feel weird? You’re thinking things about someone you’d never met. You didn’t know anything else about him and what you had learned, it didn’t sound good either. That couldn’t have been the same Eddie in your trailer, right? 

To your surprise, Chrissy had brutally died in your very own living room. Were you living with her? Something didn’t make sense though. What was her unfinished business? All the things you picked up on from the TV or movies, was that most spirits that wandered had some sort of “unfinished business” that prevented them from moving on. Right? 

The news seemed adamant that it was Eddie who killed her, but it was her own boyfriend, some star athlete, Jason Carver, who had been found guilty of her murder. Eddie had been acquitted but the twists and turns never stopped as you read he himself had been found dead inside the trailer a few weeks later. The puzzling thing was the autopsy proved it wasn’t by suicide. He didn’t do this to himself. The saddest thing, aside from the loss of two young lives, was his uncle being the one to discover his nephew lifeless in their home. No one was ever charged for his murder and it didn’t look like there was a rush to locate the killer, which angered you as you continued reading. The real killer was possibly still out there free to live the rest of their life. 

You’re so engrossed with your findings you barely paid any attention to Steve when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls, which seemed uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.

Steve was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.

“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Steve shouts, fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were hyped about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place. 

He looked around the small space seeing your notes scattered throughout the coffee table, some spilled on the carpet. There were so many he couldn’t see the Ouija board still laid out. It was just buried underneath. 

“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him. “Did you know? Did you know Eddie? Or what happened to him? Did you know that he and someone else died right where we’re standing?” This was the first time you asked him about the person Eddie was, not the ghost. You wondered why he didn't say anything? He’d lived in Hawkins his whole life. Surely he’d had to have heard about this. It’s a small town, people talked.

“I barely knew him,” Steve sighs, guilty but admits, “he wasn’t exactly popular or well liked by most because of how different he was.” You watch as he brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, “but even I didn’t think he was capable of doing that stuff to Chrissy.” He was trying to erase the crime scene the media had released to the public from his mind. “I swear I didn’t know this was his trailer though. Like I said, I barely knew the guy.” You can hear the sincerity in his response and nodded. Had Steve known, he’d most likely had pushed harder for you to move in with him. 

“What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace…and so will he,” you start to persist. 

“You’re not going to be able to convince Hawkins that Eddie Munson didn’t kill someone,” he says bluntly. “You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Steve reminds you. “I’m just worried about you,” he brings his hands to your arms in an attempt to comfort you. 

“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Eddie.

You were relieved that the conversation with Steve didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.

So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to the dead?

Take two.

You sat perched, trying to hype yourself up to communicate once more. Eddie, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that they’re here.

“Chrissy?” You ask, your fingers firmly on the planchette. You hadn’t figured out which one was actually still here or if both were. 

Your hands move over to the answer, ‘NO’. 

Shit. Eddie thought to himself when you said Chrissy's name. How much did you know about Chrissy? If you read anything about that night in the papers then it surely wasn’t good. What did you think of him now? You probably thought he was the devil. He thought you were going to end this, cut ties with him, cleanse the house or even move out after discovering it’s been him this whole time. The realization that you were living with a monster. 

“Who are you?” The last revelation had to be obvious, but you needed confirmation. Eddie had nothing to lose, physically, but if this was the last time he’d get to communicate with you, he’d take every second until you stop. Your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘E-D-D-I-E’.

“Eddie,” you whisper. Boy, did Eddie like the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“Is anyone else with you?” The answer points to ‘NO’. He was alone. 

“How did you…die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.

The letters ‘M-U-R-D-E-R-E-D’ give you your next answer. It was indeed him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.

“Did you knock down my mug?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.

“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.

‘S-O-R-R-Y’.

The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.

“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Steve another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.

Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Eddie and you weren’t sure of what to ask next, but you didn't want to stop talking to him.

Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.

Eddie watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your worries and pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.

With your hands back on the board, you ask, “are you still here?” Eddie responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.

“Can you show yourself to me?” There is the ultimate question and Eddie can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.

“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown, defeated at his response.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. He was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to those nearby, he was never successful.

You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.

There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine. You flinch and your hand rises quickly to warm the spot. What was that? You didn't feel that when using the Ouija board. Was that Eddie?

Eddie almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. All he did was caress your face and it was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.

You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.

It sucked for Eddie because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.

“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again to the open area, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.

However, Eddie still needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’ on its own. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.

The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.

Feel? You definitely felt a presence and a touch, but now it was confirmed. He was trying to communicate through touch.

“Yes, I felt you!” you let Eddie know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.

“Touch me,” you requested.

Eddie is stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling the soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it’ll stop your wandering eyes.  

You are still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke, his comforting scent invading your senses. It was him. It had been him this whole time and he’s definitely here in front of you.

“More,” you say barely above a whisper, not paying mind to the coldness.

Fuck. Eddie inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.

He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?

“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Eddie doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips back on yours, but with added pressure, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.  

Eddie’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.

When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, disregarding the temperature, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.  

Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.

Eddie or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Eddie, you were suddenly hot all over.

Flustered, you pulled down your shorts on the way to your bed, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.

Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you need them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Eddie got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.

No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit. Using your slick, you begin to rub slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, resurfacing now coated by your own wetness as you use it to an advantage in invigorating your bundle of nerves.

Eyes closed, you start to think about Eddie. How his skin would feel against yours. How you’d tangle your fingers in his wild hair. How his hands would feel on your sensitive parts. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Steve or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him to get you through the finish line. 

The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.

And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you…The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy.

A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then you hiss at the abrupt familiar cold sensation that runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Eddie was here. You pick your head up, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.

It shoots a wild pang through Eddie's chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed a few significant things in his life already. He missed graduating high school. He missed a chance to get a better car. He missed a chance to sell out venues. He missed playing music. He missed his uncle. He missed his friends. He missed Hellfire. He missed out on someone like you. He missed a chance to develop a deep connection with someone. Life was so cruel.

Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Eddie. The feeling had you wishing he had lived to one day cross paths with you. Would he have still been in Hawkins when you moved here? Would you be neighbors, friends or more? Would it have been him and not Steve? All the could've and would’ve scenarios sprouting in your head. You got too attached learning about him. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.

Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Eddie’s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt minor stings at how cold his touches were in the beginning, for the first time, Eddie felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.

His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature felt good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body.

Cool air brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Eddie never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.

“Eddie,” his name slips past your lips breathlessly when he makes contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his mouth back to ran a long, flat strip over your folds, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.

The cold, with each bit of contact from Eddie, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Eddie uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking deeper into your pillows.

There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Eddie, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack, pulling your shirt over your head to grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.

Eddie’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves, squirming from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn’t require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he finally dips his tongue inside your wet hole and back out, before capturing your clit between his lips, sucking on it. The sweet suction sensation on your clit as his lips enclose around it.

“I-I need...fuck,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Eddie’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down hard on your bottom lip, you could taste a hint of copper already, trying your hardest to not let out a crazed scream.

Eddie doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they and his tongue take turns in you. The addition of his thick fingers start taking you closer to your impending orgasm. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the filthy things he would say or do.

He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. He could feel your walls closing in tight around his digits, your wetness pooling around them and spilling, he almost loses control of your withering body. When you reach your peak, your mouth and eyes snap open, a choked gasp transitioning into a straggling loud moan, pupils blown, the sweat beads trickling down, and your back arching up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed when your orgasm rocks through you before you come back down releasing choppy breaths from its intensity.

Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Eddie one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. His fingers slowly slipping out and the puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Eddie is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.

For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d always hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth or wherever he was, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough. 

Eddie would die happy.

A/N: Reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated. 🥹 Do we want a part 2? Let me know! Thank you for reading! 🫶🏻

He nearly knocks heads with Steve as he crashes into the counter, startling Robin at the register. 

“Jesus, dude, what’s the rush? We still have half an hour before we close,” Steve says, annoyance seeping in.

“Did you guys know you have a fucking movie star in your store?!” Eddie whispers loudly disregarding Steve’s remark and the weird stare from Robin. 

Bewildered by this question, the two exchanged confused looks in response to his words. The store was so dead, and your hushed presence as you browsed through their selections, had caused them to forget they weren’t alone. As far as they were concerned it was just Eddie inside the building with them. They just wanted to close up shop and go home.  

You weren’t looking for any movie in particular actually, but when you noticed Family Video now had added an adult section you were curious to see the collection they offered, even more that some of your films made it on the shelf. 

You didn’t care that your face was on display, especially in a small town of close minded people to see. It was your life after all. You were here for a good time, not a long time, right? Not to mention it was kind of an ego booster to know that the people who didn’t give you the time of day now wanted you or at the very least, good or bad, thoughts of you invaded their minds. It was sadistic and at the same time amusing because oh, had the tables turned. 

A smirk etched its way upon your lips as the realization washed over you - you had made it…in some sense. Perhaps not to the heights of stardom, but in that moment, it felt as though you were on top of the world, a quiet victory.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was a fan of your work, a fan of your movies. It had all started when he rented a different tape starring his then former favorite actress. You were in the bonus scene included. You instantly stole the spotlight for him that instead of finishing off to a full movie, he managed to with a short three minute preview of you. It didn’t take him long to make a connection as to why you looked familiar.

Going back to her closing duties, Robin turns away from the conversation as Steve holds his slightly irritated gaze at Eddie trying to make sense of what he was talking about. 

“Who are you talking about?” He asks, response laced with confusion seeking clarity. 

Eddie’s disbelief was evident as he blinked once, then a few more times, and shaking his head, unable to comprehend that they were unaware of the other person that was in the same building as them. 

“Y/N!” He finally answers them, “Y/N is here,” he says again, pointing discreetly in the direction of the secluded area of the store, the pair realizing it was from the adult section. 

Met with blank stares, Eddie let out a sigh of defeat escape his lips, shoulders slumped in the process, displaying clear disappointment in his friends. You were a big thing to him and the lack of shared enthusiasm only deflated his mood. The disconnect between their understanding of your presence and his own excitement weighed heavily on Eddie’s spirit as he quickly realized that they didn’t recognize you. 

“Y/N. Y’know…Hawkins High Class of ‘84. Pornstar Y/N,” Eddie hints.

“Pornstar?” Robin questioned, surprise evident in her voice. 

“Y/N? Sweet, quiet, Y/N?” Steve asked, seeking confirmation as if he couldn’t believe what his friend was saying. 

“Yes, that Y/N!” Eddie affirmed. 

The same sense of smug satisfaction stayed with you and only increased with the conversation you overheard when you made your way to checkout. 

As you eavesdropped on Eddie’s hurried conversation with Robin and Steve, you couldn’t help but be intrigued by the intensity and urgency in his voice, especially when he was talking about you. The words spilled from his mouth in a rapid succession that left Steve and Robin struggling to keep up. 

“Hold up. Did you say she’s a pornstar now?” Robin asked, needing further clarification to which Eddie nodded in response. 

“Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asks only to be met with Eddie’s widened eyes conveying a “how else do you think, idiot?” kind of way. 

“Oh! Ew, dude!” Steve yells, expressing his disgust before backing away. 

“You had to ask,” Robin chuckled, finding the situation now amusing. 

“Come on, man. Grow up. It’s totally normal,” Eddie retorted, debunking Steve’s appalled demeanor. Robin nodded in agreement. 

“Still, I don’t want to think about it,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms. 

“Whatever. Did you guys know she was even in here?” Eddie asked. 

“No. I guess we forgot when you got here. She’s probably been here for a while,” said Steve. 

“She got here a little before you did,” Robin suddenly recalls,  "I remember now because Dingus flirted up a storm with her.”

“Don’t start with that,” Steve quickly defends himself, “I wasn’t the only one doing the flirting,” he added as the two revived their unsettled debate from earlier. 

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, silencing the two, “She’s been in here that long and I’ve been walking around this place like a damn tool wasting my time?” he exclaimed in frustration. 

“Well, what would you have done if you knew I was here?” You piped up, throwing Eddie a curveball, your smooth voice catching all three of their attention. 

Eddie spun around, his mouth opening and closing without uttering a single world. He struggled to grasp his own thoughts, attempting to decide on his next move. Every ounce of self-confidence he just had seemed to evaporate from his being as his eyes traveled up and down your figure.