#st fanfic

[violettaskies]

Of Books & Beasts

Prompt: virginity

Paring: best friend!steve harrington x f!reader

Genre: romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, one bed trope

Notes: wc 9.1k // my first kinktober story (one of five) // hope everyone enjoys it // it’s very soft // a little scary movie night sleep over // reader falls asleep next to steve and things get a little steamy // i wrote everything to have as much consent as possible // steve is a bit of a perv lol

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // slight somnophilia, dry humping, virginity loss, vaginal fingering // masturbation // smut // 'just the tip' is used once or twice // please let me know if there is anymore that need to be added!

ao3 // kinktober masterlist // full masterlist // lazy ghoul’s kinktober prompts

-:-:-:-:-

The night was meant to be a simple one. After weeks of assignments, exams, quizzes, and extracurricular activities at college, all you wanted to do was relax. Well, you still had one more assignment left to do, but maybe you were able to kill two birds with one stone, right? 

Luckily, this assignment was one that you could easily ask for help with from your friend. Someone who always stole movies for you to borrow on many weekends anyways. With your class being based on books which turned into film adaptations, it means a lot of time spent reading and watching. In truth, you felt bad for your classmates who had to rent out the tapes for extended periods just to finish analysis for assignments; all while you didn’t even need to bat an eyelash in Steve’s direction for him to hide movies in your backpack while his manager wasn’t looking. 

With the theme of this particular assignment matching the season and going with horror films, a movie night was something that you craved. Thick sweaters, even thicker blankets, a bit of hot chocolate, and candy from the grocery store that had the orange and black packaging — they were all of the aspects to the marathon you proposed when you walked into Family Video on a Friday afternoon after you got off the bus. Despite all of your convincing tactics, your friend already had his answer long before you began to ask.

“Anything for you, dove. I’ll get everything on this list for us,” Steve smiled at you, after looking at the assignment rubric, as you stood on the other side of the cash register. 

“Alright, maybe I should place a pizza order now so that we don’t starve during the Friday dinner rush tonight,” you said sweetly as you nervously thought about what to order. 

“Don’t you worry about it, it’s on me. Let me treat you a little.” 

“I’m the one who asked you to have a movie marathon with me, I should really be the one paying,” you insisted while you brought your hand closer to the telephone. 

But, quickly, the man was able to grasp it lightly to stop you from moving towards the numbers. You could never admit just how much your skin tingled at the touch. “I’m serious. This shift finishes in twenty minutes, then I can drive us home and I’m all yours. Do whatever you want with me, dove. I can even help out with your stress relief later. Maybe I’ll bend —” 

“Please don’t continue that sentence,” you cut him off easily. Steve always loved to tease you and any eavesdroppers who may be listening in and theorizing if you two were dating or not. The town is full of gossip fiends. “Any louder and people will start to believe you.” 

The younger Harrington chuckled as he got out from behind the counter to stand fully in front of you. He adored to see the way you outwardly pretended you hated the fake moves he would pull. From him putting his arm around your shoulder whilst walking around town, whistling every other time he picked you up from the city bus stop, to intimidating every guy who looked in your direction for too long. However, both of you never knew the other wished for it all to be real. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll be good and stop teasing you,” he chuckled lowly. 

“Thank you,” you smiled to yourself before looking up at Steve with wide eyes. “So will you also be buying garlic knots tonight too?” 

“Yes, as long as you promise to stay awake until the final movie, sleepy girl.” 

-:-:-:-:-

You, in fact, did not stay awake the whole movie night. It wasn’t Tim Curry’s fault either. Normally, it was tradition for you two to end off every evening like this with one musical or something more lighthearted to offset the mood. But the day just exhausted you from every angle, that once you finally got to relax and watch a movie for leisure — you relaxed a little too hard. Adding the components of the cold pizza and Steve putting a blanket on you while continuously keeping a grasp on your knee, you were bound to knock out before the movie ended. Later, it was Steve who woke you up with a whisper in your ear. The sound shocked you at first, and then when you opened your eyes to see the man kneeling in front of you, it did cause a slightly loud gasp to escape your lips. After some groaning on your end about not wanting to intrude, you finally gave in to the invitation Steve gave to let you sleep over tonight. The main contributing factor had to be the fact that the man had a really nice blanket and pillow set that felt like it came from a hotel. 

However, as you both ended off the night in your room, it was Steve who began to groan — although, it was due to pure frustration.

“I don’t have any clean clothes,” your host said as he rummaged through his drawers. 

“How about any sweater and some of those long johns your mother always buys you?” you giggled as you sat on the bed now, reading a book you recently checked out from the library. 

“Or you could always sleep naked, I heard it’s really healthy for you. Plus, I would not mind at — ow,” Steve was on his little sarcastic joke before you threw an old pair of socks at his head. 

“Maybe I should just head home, this feels like such a nuisance to you,” you smiled and whispered shyly. 

Steve really was trying hard to find you something to sleep in. So much so that it caused some sweat to drop on his forehead. But, truly, the man was standing there trying to work up the courage to ask you to put on one of his old swim team sweaters and a cotton pair of shorts he knew would hug your body beautifully. 

Yes, you have slept over before when you were younger. However, those were all planned out with you bringing something from home. Well, there was one emergency where you stayed the night due to a horrific snow storm; but, Mrs. Harrington was there to give you your Christmas present a few weeks early and allow you to sleep in some pyjamas which were covered in cute bunnies. This was the first time you would be here spontaneously alone with Steve — and god, did he feel like all of his prayers were answered. The amount of times he has imagined you laying on his bed, committing the most sinful acts, in various positions and scenarios, could be seen as absolutely perverted. So to have the opportunity to have you on his bed, wearing his clothes, covered in his blanket; it all seemed unfathomable to the man. 

“Here,” Steve exclaimed quickly so that you would actually stay. “Maybe you would be alright with this sweatshirt and some shorts?” 

“This is more than alright. Thank you, Steve,” You skipped off to the washroom to finally get ready for bed and let your friend change into his own pyjamas. 

However, when you got the clothing on, it was so embarrassing to stare into the mirror. Everything fits fine — and on a normal day at home, you would probably wear something similar. But remembering the fact that you would be sleeping next to your best friend was so nerve wracking. It was just a lot shorter than what you would usually wear around him if you did wear a skirt or shorts. You just thanked the heavens that the blanket would be covering your legs so that you didn’t feel as exposed. 

Not that you believed Steve would try anything; not that you didn’t want him to try anything either. But, you were scared of getting so cold and cuddling too close to him like you did last December during the winter storm. Waking up in Steve’s arms caused your heart to flutter so harshly that your heart rate didn’t go down for days. It made you think about how badly you wished you could wake up to his handsome face everyday. Most especially, it made you think about how nicely his leg felt right in between your thighs, and the way it massaged your — 

No. 

This was an innocent sleepover like the thousands that other best friends have had over the years. All you had to do was sleep next to him with a pillow between your bodies and hope you didn’t accidentally roll your way into his arms again. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the heartbreak of knowing that being entwined in each other’s arms would not last forever. 

“Do you want the left or right side of the bed?” Steve called out from the other side of the door, startling you out of your thoughts. 

“Anything is fine,” you replied whilst opening the door. Seeing that Steve was laying in the middle, ready to roll over to whichever side you preferred. The image of him with arms and legs spread out made you giggle. 

“The left side is closer to the lamp if you’d like to read a bit before sleeping,” he said as he shifted over to the ride side of the bed and patted to your new spot. 

“Are you a mind reader or something?” you chuckled between steps.

Steve put the book in the air as you tucked yourself into bed, a nice distance away from him. Once he saw you were comfortable, he placed the book gently in your lap and said: “no, but I could tell your little nap will probably have you staying awake for the next hour or so.” 

“Oh, if the light is gonna bother you then I can turn it off and head to sleep too.” 

The concern in your eyes was absolutely beautiful. As you started up at him with the lamp glowing behind you, you looked like a nymph in the night. And oh how Steve knew he would be the luckiest man alive to sleep next to you. 

“Go ahead, dove. I can sleep through anything,” he whispered lowly whilst rubbing your thigh that was covered by the thick blanket. “What’s it about anyways?” 

You took a deep breath to calm down before speaking. Steve’s touch caused you to feel warm, even more so when he squeezed your thigh every few moments. “Not too sure about the entire plot since I’m only on chapter two. But it’s about a prince and his beast companion. They’ve been best friends for a long time and are going on adventures. This was in the romance section so I’m guessing the best friends fall in love,” you rambled, getting quieter with the last few words. 

What a dream. 

“Is it dirty?” Steve teased as he sunk further underneath the blanket. 

“No, I-I’ve never read a story like that before,” you said sternly. 

“Oh, I believe you,” his voice got deeper and slower with each word, only indicating that he was bound to fall asleep any second. “Have fun reading.” 

They were the last words he said before drifting off to sleep peacefully next to you. Luckily, that meant it was a lot easier to read the rest of the book until you felt your own eyes start closing and the words on the page started to become blurry. 

It was a beautiful story, full of lore and love, a mix of historical fiction and mythology. After reading and watching stories based on the horror genre for a few weeks now, it was nice to have a little bit of a break and just read about love. Your heart started to feel warm and giddy as each page passed — even going as far as quietly giggling when you felt your cheeks feel warm as a result of the prince’s romantic actions throughout the book. You didn’t even notice that you were sinking further and further into the blanket because you were so engrossed in the imaginary world. It didn’t even matter that the angle made your back hurt a little. 

Well, not really. Once you started to feel stiff, you moved into a straighter position. However, you were interrupted by a low and groggy voice. 

“You want to get under here?” Steve asked you through half-lidded eyes and his arm moving to invite you to move even closer into his body. 

Wordlessly, you accepted the offer and went right up to Steve’s body. The book was on his chest while your cheek was at his side. Everything felt so comfortable and domestic — a part of you wished this could last forever. 

But right then, the storyline of the book went on a different path, to say the least. 

You see, the prince got hurt whilst fighting off some evil spirits. He was bleeding everywhere and in so much pain. But the companion, a beautiful wolf-demon, was able to heal his wounds to the point where it wouldn’t be so life threatening. It was so simple, to use a little magic and bandages in hopes of survival, but the author was able to portray it wonderfully. To thank the woman, the prince moved his arms around her to hold her a warm embrace. It was so sweet, just like the position you were in now. However, it took a turn for the romantics. A little too romantic. An activity you definitely were not currently doing with Steve. 

The man kissed her sweetly: from her shoulders, up to her neck, then finally landed on her plump lips. It was beautiful, so serene, accompanied by a drawing of the two in bed with locked lips and legs. Slowly, she started to rock against his leg, adoring the pressure against the place no one had touched before. As she gasped into each kiss, the prince smiled in tandem. Even moving his hips to help the lady feel more pleasure. You wondered how that felt, it was only a slight movement of the hips — there was no way it could feel that good.

But you were so wrong. 

Just as you tried to move positions, Steve moved his leg upwards, moving his thigh right against your heat. It felt so good, to the point where you bit your lip to suppress the whimper that was about to escape your lips. The man next to you, tried to find a better position to sleep in too, moving his legs some more until it found solace as it intertwined with your own legs. 

Fuck, it felt really good. You tried so hard not to move your hips in tandem so that you could amp up the pleasure. So instead, you continued to read, trying to focus on the writing techniques and nothing else. However, you only began noting the things the characters did with one another. How they whispered sweet nothings as they continued their game to see how long it would take the lady to climax. And you noticed the way you felt warm between your legs, a slight throbbing to seal the deal. 

Maybe in another world you would wake up Steve and ask him to let you out of his embrace so that you could excuse yourself to the washroom and down. But not in this one. In this world, you were at peace in his arms. In this world, you really didn’t care about the throbbing ache between your legs because you were extremely sleepy. In this world, you would convince yourself that it would pass. In this world, the sound of both your hearts beating as one was enough of a lullaby to cause even the most stubborn of characters to sleep. Just as you did now, with the book still on Steve’s chest, and your bodies squeezing closer together. 

-:-:-:-:-

Steve was an extremely heavy sleeper when he was with you. Most of the time, you would be awake first during these little sleepovers and do something before he even pried his eyes open and then decided to keep them shut because of the sun seeping through the windows. It wouldn’t surprise Steve to see you reading at your desk or braiding friendship bracelets when you had that arts n’ crafts phase a couple years ago. This time, however, he was the one who awoke in the middle of the night to movement from beside him. Maybe it was due to some level of paranoia he has gained over the past few years regarding a life that he wishes you would never need to experience. It’s funny that you were reading books with monsters the world has nightmares about, while he was one of the people who was facing them. He wishes so badly to protect you from all of it. So when you started moving in your sleep, something you never do, Steve felt his body wake up in an instant. 

His eyes were having trouble fully opening themselves as he could hear faint whimpering sounds coming from you and slight movements near his thigh. It was enough to turn his head to the left to see what was wrong. But nothing was wrong per se. If anything this was right out of a perverted fantasy he has had millions of times before. 

As his eyes finally came into focus at what was in front of him, Steve could only smile and thank the heavens. You were laying in the same position you initially fell asleep in: book held in your hand, it being face down on Steve’s chest on a particular page, while your own face was on the side of his chest. But, the thing that surprised him the most was the grip your thighs had around his own. Slowly, your hips were thrusting back and forth against his leg, humping over and over. Whenever your body hit the perfect spot against your clit, you would mewl against his chest, sending a vibration through his body. Your hard nipples would poke Steve’s stomach once in a while too. 

Good Lord, he was so distracted by the vision of you thrusting against his thigh, that he didn’t realize just how hard he had become. He only noticed it when your leg tensed up and moved towards his crotch, touching the underside and head in the process. 

You were about to become the death of him tonight. 

Curiously, he picked up the book you were reading to put it on the bedside table, when the words jumped out at him. 

“And then the prince lifted the dress of the maiden beast. How scary she was to the eyes of the kingdom, but how beautiful she looked with swollen lips and lust-filled eyes. She was wet, so wet that it seeped through the layers of clothing.”

Just then, Steve looked down to notice how your wetness was doing the same thing. Your arousal had gone past your shorts and went onto the cotton bottoms he was wearing. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The man skipped a few paragraphs to see just exactly what the prince and his lady were up to. Words of biting, screaming, thrusting harshly against the wall, even scratches along one another’s backs. It was pornographic, it was beautiful, and Steve was shocked that your virgin eyes read through some of this before falling asleep. 

If only he could recreate it with you. Seeing you moan and move to your lust-filled slumber was more than enough of a dream come true to the man. But this was wrong. So wrong. You both were best friends. He loved you, wished he could be more with you. But he believed that wasn’t worthy of you. You were the princess this whole town adored while he was just a former playboy many people seemed to dislike sometimes. There was a part of him that wanted to see how long it would take for you to come against his leg. However, his guilt took over quickly. 

“Wake up, my dove. It’s getting hot in here.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The mixture of blankets and his arousal made Steve sweat through his clothes easily. 

“Hm? What?” You rolled more onto his chest, your weight atop his body nicely. It would have been the world’s most comfortable position, one that would start off most of his perverted fantasies about you; however, he had to stop himself from thrusting against your thigh that was now perfectly on top of his hardness. “Feels so nice, Stevie,” you murmured, still half-asleep. 

“Fuck — you really like that, huh?” The man whispered as you looked up at him with glazed eyes. You were still not cognizant that what you were doing was not in a dream. 

“I feel so warm down there, your leg is massaging me nicely,” you moaned whilst humping some more. “Kiss me, please.” 

Every move you were doing, every word you were saying, every whimper that came out of your throat — the man has imagined it all before. You were all of his greatest fantasies come to life. He wished so badly to ravish you on the spot and satiate all of the pent-up pleasure your body needed to release. Your lips were swollen now from all of the biting you’ve been doing to quiet down your moans; but, good god, the man was going to memorize it all for the sake of his future sessions with his right hand. 

Steve really needed to stop this, and fully wake you up as soon as possible. This wasn’t the normal you, you didn’t even realize exactly what you were doing. “Pretty girl, no matter how much I want to continue this, we can’t.” The words fell from his lips painfully. 

“Why not? You don’t feel good?” You whimpered as you reached up and put your arms around Steve’s neck, stopping your hips’ movements all together. 

“Feels so good, baby,” Steve moaned loudly this time as he thrusted against your leg like he imagined a million times before. It wasn't helping that you thought your face closer to his in order to hear his breathy moans easier. The man was so close to leaning forward and kissing your plump lips. “But, this isn’t a dream, and you’re not fully awake. I don’t want you to regret this—”

The man was going to ramble on and continue to comfort you into waking up fully. However, you got the message loud and clear. So much so, that your heart dropped and you gasped. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll move over t-there — ah.” The moan coming out of your mouth was completely involuntary as you lifted your body up and intended on moving down and away from Steve’s figure. 

“Did that feel good?” Steve teased, now that you were both fully cognizant of your sleeping status. 

“I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry.” If only you could apologize a million times, because you would; your guilty conscience would make sure of it. 

“You probably had some sweet dreams, huh?” 

Just as you were separated from the man, you heard his words and looked over at his figure. Through the dim lighting of the lamp, you could see that he was holding up the novel you were reading before bed, and it was open to the very scene that inspired any of your hormone-induced movements tonight. 

“Oh no,” you whispered. Looking down, there was a wet spot on Steve’s thigh where your heat was pressed against. He was admiring it as if he were memorizing just how it looks. And he was. “This is so embarrassing,” you though out loud

“It’s no big deal, dove. Guys have nudie magazines and a video here and there. I would never judge you for a little novel,” Steve chuckled as he sat up to the headboard to mirror your actions. 

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that in the story,” you whispered. 

“Did you like it?” Your friend was genuinely curious. Throughout your history as friends, you had never even asked him for advice about relationships — this erotic chapter of the novel must have been a shocking first exposure to it all. 

You thought about the question for a few moments. Remembering the emotions and fire you felt in different parts of your body, you could really only tell him the truth. “Y-yeah, I suppose so.”  

“Then don’t feel embarrassed or bad about it,” Steve nudged your shoulder sweetly to make you feel less embarrassed over the situation. “Never thought you were into reading it in front of other people though.”

“Don’t tease,” you pouted, putting your head under the blanket to hide from the embarrassment. 

“I’ll stop, I promise. But, you did give me a wonderful way to wake up,” you could hear him smiling just by the sound of his voice. 

Those words made you slowly peek your way out of the thick blanket to see Steve looming over you with a smirk that teased your soul. The lamp in the room made him glow, while the moon’s beams that were seeping through the blinds made him look like one of the many drawings of the prince in the book you were just reading. It took all the strength within you, not to squeeze your thighs together and satiate the throbbing between them. 

“Let’s never talk about this again,” you whispered, the blanket still covering your mouth. 

“If that’s what you would be comfortable with,” Steve chuckled as he laid back in his spot. 

“Y-yes, I would be.” 

After a moment of awkward silence, you both in regular sleeping positions, Steve wanted to break the ice a bit. “It is a well-written book. Maybe I could borrow it sometime.” 

“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, grabbing a small pillow on the bed and lightly hitting his chest with it.

“Learn anything while reading? You could use me as a practice dummy.” The man laid on his side now, looking at you as he put on a seductive tone. 

“You’re just a dummy, Steve,” you playfully scoffed with a giggle. 

“That was the last one, promise. Sweet dreams, dove.” 

In truth, Steve wanted you to sleep as quickly as possible so that he could make his way to the washroom and get rid of his hard problem. It was hurting now, even as he tried to think about anything else that would possibly subside his arousal. Your movements and moans will never be erased from his mind. Steve’s imagination was running wild with how you actually sounded as you were feeling pleasure. 

No one has ever thanked a book more in the history of mankind. 

“Is that what sex is like?” You whispered into the night, cutting off the man’s thoughts. 

“What do you mean?” Steve replied as he turned to his side to look at you staring up to the ceiling.  

“In the book, they talk about it like it happens so fast and hard,” you said the words with a concerned tone while turning your body towards his to face him. 

“Well, it can be fast and hard if the couple wants it that way. But, taking it slow is nice too,” the man next to you chuckled sweetly. 

You felt dumb asking the question. For years, you have known that Steve was a lot more experienced than you in the department of relations with the opposite sex. There have been countless times where Steve would tell you about any dates that he has gone on, or imply lewd acts he committed with his girlfriend of the week. And all you would do is nod out of pure curiosity. However, this was the first time you outright spoke about sex with him. 

“Right, right, that makes sense. It must feel really nice,” you continued your thoughts. 

“It does. Everything is so warm and wet. The noises too are something you’ll never forget. My hand and imagination does not do it justice sometimes.” Right then, Steve’s mind went through flashbacks of times he has laid in bed with the image of you stuck as his muse. He has imagined the way you would react and moan to things he would do with you. Would you bite your lip whilst looking down between your bodies? Would you whimper in the same way you do when you beg Steve to drive you somewhere and he just had a long day at work? Anything you would do would be erotic, and enough fire for him to reach the happiest of endings. However, by the end, he would pray for the day he could experience the real thing with you.  

“I wonder what it will be like for me,” you giggled, bringing the blanket close to your face again. 

“You got a good idea a few minutes ago,” Steve teased as he looked you up and down. 

All you could do was hit his shoulder then hide your face into it as he leaned back onto the bed. “It did feel really, really nice, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You liked it, didn’t you?” he said, trying to soothe your embarrassment of it all. As he squeezed his arm around you tighter to have you closer to his chest, Steve realized that your bare thighs had found their way around his again. You looked so beautiful cuddling next to him, tightening your legs slowly. “Then, maybe I can help. You didn’t get to finish, sweet girl.” 

The deepness of Steve’s voice resonated through your entire body as you looked up at him with desperate eyes. His proposal sounded so good. You felt this constant throbbing between your legs that only increased ten-fold every time you and Steve accidentally breathed too close together. As you gripped his chest with your hands, and his thigh with your own — you really craved to continue the pleasure you were feeling moments before. 

“I didn’t even know that I started,” you pouted. 

“Oh, but finishing is one of the best parts,” he teased whilst moving his thigh upwards to massage your cunt slowly. 

“Steve—” you moaned like music to his ears.

Your friend began to move his thigh up and down to stroke your pussy, hitting your clit from the right angle to make you bite your lip in between whimpers. He held your face sweetly, making sure that he could see how every movement affected you. Steve was sure that the image of your pupils getting darker would be engraved in his mind forever. 

“My best friend needs help, and you know I would do anything for you,” he whispered, hovering his lips above yours. 

“More, please.” 

“So polite,” Steve teased, quickening his pace and moving one hand to your breasts. “Doing such a dirty thing and now you’re being so nice.” 

“I feel so — I feel like I need more,” you said quietly as if it were a desperate plea. 

Steve squeezed your right breast sweetly, pinching your hardened nipple through the thick sweater fabric. He noted how you thrusted yourself against his thigh and nearly fell onto his lips as you moaned. 

“Is your body on fire? You feel nice, dove,” he smiled, kissing your cheek to tease you. 

“So good. Kiss me, Steve, please.” You weren’t sure what took over your body in that moment, but you gripped onto his hair and leaned your lips towards his. Yet, he was the one who kissed you first. It was a kiss that made the angels sing above you, one that you both have been imagining for years and years. Hearing all of the stories of girls in school raving about his talents with his mouth and tongue — a part of you could never believe that he would be that amazing.

But, you were wrong, so wrong. 

As he kissed you deeply, poking his tongue through to taste you more, you couldn’t help but whimper loudly into the kiss. Steve adored it, promising himself to try everything he could to hear every variation of your beautiful sounds. Just when he brought a hand down to your back, urging your hips to move forwards on his leg, you swear you were about to see stars. This is what all the magazines were talking about. This is what all the whispered conversations during girl talk were giggling about. This is what the novel you were just reading was writing about when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. You remembered what the lady did in the book, and decided to emulate her actions. Although you were slowing down your kisses, your hand found its way to Steve’s clothed hardness. It was nearly peeking out of the sweatpant elastic by now which made you gasp in surprise. 

“God, what did you learn in that book?” Steve moaned as he felt your delicate hand on him. 

“The characters in the story were really good friends too. She was always tempted to be the one who helped him out when he was really stressed out.” You smiled into the kiss, noticing how teasing him only made you wetter. 

You hand gripped his hardness some more, focusing on the large head that could be felt through the fabric.

“Here I thought that was going to be my job tonight,” Steve’s voice was low now as he kissed you down your neck and moved the hand that was previously on your back, to your front. The shorts you were wearing rode up to tighten upon your cunt. The fabric squeezed your clit, and caused your arousal to get all over the place where your thighs met. 

Steve pushed the fabric to the side, noticing how you didn’t wear panties to sleep, and started to lightly massage your clit. “Oh God,” you moaned into his mouth while arching your back. 

The movement made Steve want to lay you down on your back to have easier access between your legs. Although you whimpered in slight disappointment when you didn’t feel the pressure of his thigh, that all went away when the man teased your wet entrance with his fingers before going up to your clit again. 

“No panties, huh? You’re bound to be the death of me.” 

“I normally don’t wear any to bed if I’m wearing shorts,” you whispered, moving yourself to feel his fingers more against your nub. 

“Is it alright if I take these off?” He barely got the question out before you began to nod. 

Looking at you in all your glory was absolutely mind blowing to Steve. He swears that he felt his cock twitch in excitement when he saw your arousal dripping on his sheets. The light from the lamp made you look like you were glowing, and the man was so tempted to taste what he has been craving for so long. But, he took it slow, circling your clit faster and faster as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. As every moan was swallowed by him, Steve began to thrust himself upon the side of your hip to satiate his arousal. 

The moment he stopped kissing you for a moment, he wordlessly looked you in the eye, teasing your entrance now with his fingers. With a nod and smile through bitten lips, you gave him full permission to fill your hole that has been desperately throbbing around nothingness.  

“Feels so good, Stevie. Keep doing that, please,” you groaned as he fingered you deeper and deeper. 

“Are you close, dove? Are you gonna come? You’re so tight, can barely fit these two fingers,” Steve teased as he kissed your neck to make you moan louder. 

“More — need more.” The grip you had on his hair became tighter as you pushed yourself down on his hand, nearly fucking yourself on his fingers. Feeling so stretched out was a brand new experience. You were never one to masturbate, even when everyone mentioned it was so much fun. Everything from seeing a hot guy at the mall, a rockstar who was shirtless on the cover of a magazine, or the angle of a showerhead accidentally focusing on a sweet spot — none of those experiences ever happened in your life. In truth, nothing ever made you curious enough to even try to see if other things would have a similar effect. But something about this night made you want to experience it all with Steve. 

The man quickened his pace with his fingers, using one hand to thrust into you while the other massaged your clit sweetly. Your moans echoed through the room as you arch your back in ecstasy. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your throat made you want to thrust against his hand harder, but you were too overwhelmed to move your hips in tandem. Instead, you lifted up your shirt and started to squeeze your lonely nipples. 

You aren’t sure what took over — all you knew was that everything felt so good. 

“Fuck, you really do have the most perfect tits,” Steve whispered to himself when he got up from your neck. He felt your movements and thought something was wrong. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of your swollen nipples, eager for some sort of touch. When he saw your fingers squeeze your right nipple, he could not handle it anymore and dove down to suck on them, leaving marks on your smooth skin. 

“Steve, everything you’re doing feels so good,” you moaned. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby? I know you can do it.” 

And you did. Loudly. Just those words, working in tandem with his fingers and mouth, were more than enough to make you orgasm into oblivion. Steve had two fingers inside of you whilst his thumb was massaging your clit in small circles. You barely had the strength to tell him how good it felt since you were shaking below him in pleasure. All you could do was grasp Steve’s hair as he kissed one nipple of yours to the next. It was your very first orgasm, and you were welcoming it with open arms. 

“So nice —” you whimpered incoherently. 

Steve kissed you, swallowing in your moans of ecstasy. “I’m never gonna get tired of that sound,” he teased as he took out his fingers from inside of you and just massaged your clit as you got down from your high. 

“So much better than reading a book,” you giggled as your body calmed down. 

“Maybe we gotta find you crazier books then,” Steve smiled with you while kissing your soft lips. 

The kiss became deeper as you embraced one another. Your friend found his way on top of you which felt so surreal. Throughout your friendship, you never believed that some of your naughty dreams that you pushed to the side, would ever come true. Steve was having the same thoughts; however, he never pushed those dreams to the side. More likely, he would take care of any hard problem that was in between his legs. But, kissing you only made him throb harder. Especially now that he knows what your pussy felt like on his fingertips, 

“Again — I can take more,” you whispered between kisses. 

“Needy girl, you really want to?” Steve asked, making sure this wasn’t a dream for him now. 

“Mhm, yes, what if we slipped it in?” your hand moved down his body and to the waistband of his pants. Without even stretching the fabric, you looked up at him with sweet eyes. “Would it feel good too? Maybe just the tip?” 

Fuck. 

Steve needed to calm himself down. He was already on the verge of cumming in his pants, watching you orgasm on his sheets. Even now, as the remnants of your arousal covered his fingers, he wondered how it would feel against his hardness. But, Steve couldn’t do that to you now. Especially knowing the fact that it would be your first time. However, the lust that clouded your eyes as you pouted up at him, was convincing him slowly. 

The conflict on Steve’s face was so apparent that you whispered: “oh, we don’t need to—”

“Fuck, I want to,” Steve kissed you sweetly. “Are you sure, baby? Sure that you can take it all?”

“Yes, yes, I promise you that I can,” you smiled up at him and then bit your lips out of a mixture of excitement and nervousness. 

You kissed one another again, not being to stand the time your lips were apart from each other’s. As you did so, Steve brought his hands under your sweater to nearly rip it off of you — leaving you beautifully naked on his plaid sheets. His hands were calling to him, telling him that one day he needed to take a picture of you like this. But, there is going to be another time, surely. Right now, he wanted to satiate your body’s cravings. As you stared up at him and squeezed your thighs together, Steve was truly about to combust. 

“It’s kinda cold,” you giggled as you stared down at your hardened nipples. Then, you sat up slightly to meet his lips again, but not without whispering close to his mouth. “Can I take off your clothes too?” 

With those words, Steve helped you take off his tight shirt and sweatpants. You’ve been teasingly touching it throughout tonight’s escapades; however, seeing his hardness in all its glory, stunned you. It was a lot thicker and longer than you initially believed. In truth, there were countless moments where you had gotten a glimpse of his size. Like the times he invited you to his backyard to swim, and he always seemed to choose tighter swim shorts every week. Or the one time he forgot to bring a towel into the shower so you brought one to him, thinking that he was going to keep the shower curtain atop his body for some modesty; however, when you were on your way out the room, he let go of the plastic curtain a bit too early and you saw a definite outline from the side of your eyes. Every single time, no matter how crazy the situation may be, you felt warm all over your body. This time, however, seeing the way it hung and the precum leaking out of it, you were hypnotized to say the least. 

“One sec, dove,” Steve whispered as he saw that you were about to touch it. You looked to see that he bent his body to reach his nightstand and take out a little clear bottle. 

“What is that?” You asked innocently as you began to stroke him while he wasn’t looking. 

“I-it’s — fuck — it’s lube. We could use a little if you wanted to,” Steve said seriously before bringing a hand to your arousal and massaging your clit sweetly. “Not sure if we will need much,” he teased. 

Steve kissed you again, having you lay down on the bed fully. He thrusted his hardness against your pussy a few times, seeing how you reacted to the feeling. You adored it, mewling every time the head of his cock coincided with your clit. In truth, you both could have been doing this for the rest of the night until you two came; however, you were throbbing around nothing and you craved to feel more stretched out than with Steve’s fingers. 

You broke away from the kiss, eyeing the bottle of lube curiously, before Steve grabbed it and put it in your hands to look at closer. There were times you saw a similar bottle in the drug store and noticed they were next to the condoms and pregnancy tests. You saw that there were big bold letters on the front: ‘for her pleasure,’ which confused you slightly. But, you decided to give it a try anyways — it must be something good, you guessed. 

“Let's use a little, Steve.” 

“Yeah, sure. You want me to put it on?” He asked sweetly as he outstretched his hand. 

“N-no, I wanna try something,” you smiled up at him before putting a dollop of the gel in your right hand. “You’re so big, Stevie. You’re gonna stretch me out so good.” 

Your words were hypnotizing the man above you as you circled your hand over his cock and stroked a few times. And to think that he believed that he was to be taking the lead tonight. 

“F-fuck, dove. Your hands are so soft.” Steve’s moans were making you wetter by the second. You felt your heat throb harshly around nothing, before you moved your hips upwards a little and guided his cock into you. 

Just the tip — you said the words before. 

But, fuck, it felt so nice that you both needed so much more. Steve stayed still above you as he watched the way you move your hips to bounce on his cock from below. Inch by inch, you thrusted yourself upon his lube-covered hardness, causing moans to echo through the room as you got stretched out. 

This was so much better than you both could have ever dreamed of. 

“So hard,” you whispered as you got in the last inch and took all of Steve’s cock in. 

“You’re taking me so well, dove. So fucking wet,” he said as he kissed you and let you get used to the large size. 

“Feels nice.”  

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Steve whispered as he kissed your lips one last time before moving his mouth down your neck and finally thrusting his hips into you. 

Everything seemed to amplify ten-fold. All of the pleasure, moans, tingling, stretching — it all felt so nice. It was if you two were the only people in the world, with the sky changing from a navy blue to a bright orange. Sweet nothings were whispered into the air as you both wanted to give each other the poetic justice you deserved. 

Steve kissed you every time he heard your moans get louder and louder, wanting to taste your ecstasy. He moved back and forth from kissing your lips, to your neck, to your breasts. It all made you grip his hair tightly no matter where he was focusing on your body. 

“Keep going please, Steve. Everything feels so full,” you screamed incoherently.  

“God, you're throbbing around me. I don’t think I can take it.” The man above you was thrusting into you at an increasingly faster pace, missing the feeling of your warm pussy every time he was even an inch out of you. 

“Steve, I wanna feel you cum,” you whispered before grabbing his hair to have him stop sucking on your nipples in order to look at you. 

He adored how needy you were. “Dirty little mouth, Princess.” 

“Need more — need you to go faster.”

“You know I've been dreaming about this moment time and time again. Who knew all it would take is a dirty novel, isn’t that right?” Steve teased as he reached town and pinched your clit playfully. 

“You’ll never regret driving me to the bookstore from now on,” you giggled in between whimpers.

In truth, you didn’t notice the way you were moving yourself upwards to meet his thrusts. It made Steve bite his lip to stop himself from cumming inside of you prematurely.  “Dove, you're taking me so well — fuck — better than I’ve ever imagined,” he moaned. 

“What have you imagined? What were we doing?” you asked it so innocently, stroking his chest as he continued to thrust into you. 

Where did you learn how to do that? — was what he really wanted to ask. Instead, his mind started to blurt out his fantasies. 

“Sometimes I’d have you like this: fucked out and cock drunk in the middle of the night. Other times it would be me bending you over while you’re studying. Always wearing those tiny skirts with the slit.” 

“For you, I wear it for you. I know the yellow skirt is your favourite, isn’t it?” You teased him now. 

You always noticed the way he would ask you pick things up from the floor, mention that your shoes were untied while he was standing behind you, or the way he would always take off a piece of lint from the back of your skirt — even if you had just used a lint roller on it a few moments before. He loved the way the fabric would sway, and you loved the way he looked at you. It made you feel so warm even on the windiest and coldest of days. 

One thing was for certain, it definitely felt like such a tease in comparison to how your heart and body felt right now.  

“You little minx,” Steve moaned as he thrusted into you faster. 

“Do you think I don’t imagine you ripping my skirt into a million pieces every time you stare at me?” the words fell from your lips breathily while Steve’s pace increased more and more. “You’re not so good at recognizing mirrors in front of you when you’re staring at the back of my tiny skirt, huh?”

“God, you like it when I’m being your perv, naughty girl,” Steve stated.

“Makes me feel nice. Just like this.” 

Just then, Steve made sure that his thrusts and massages on your clit were working in tandem with the way your pussy was throbbing on his cock. He could tell with the way you were arching your back more and closing your eyes, that you were bound to orgasm soon. “You’re so beautiful, dove. So beautiful and taking me so well.”  

“Oh my—” your voice sounded so sweet as you looked up at him with desperation in your eyes. 

“That’s it, let it happen,” Steve grunted, making sure to stop himself from cumming so that he could time it with yours.  

“Faster, please,” you nearly screamed now as everything was hitting you in all the perfect spots. 

Steve took that as his sign to move faster: from his hands to his hips. He loved to see the way you were reaching your climax on his cock — an image he would never get out of his mind for the rest of his life. You were squeezing his hardness tighter and tighter, with your moans getting louder in tandem. And so, Steve angled his cock upwards to try and hit your sweetest spot inside of you. 

And he did. 

Good god, he did. 

“That’s it, that’s my dove.” He chanted over and over as you were shaking beneath him, orgasming harder than you did previously. 

“S-Steve, fuck.” You rarely swear, but to know that he was the one to cause this little word to fall from lips with such grace — it was the final straw for Steve. 

He began to cum inside of you, your pussy milking him with each thrust. All of his arousal was filling you up to the point where it started to spill out and glisten all over your thighs. “So tight,” he whimpered above you. 

For a few moments, you both came down from your highs. With a few thrusts and kisses, you allowed your bodies and heart rates to calm down as one. It was beautiful and so bewitching to experience it all. You weren’t so sure what it would be like now. Being friends for so long meant that you both knew so much about each other. However, now, you two seemed to see a lot of each other too. There was no turning back to what it was before. Not after everything felt so good in this way. 

You both looked into each other’s eyes before kissing sweetly, enveloping each other in one last kiss before breaking apart under the morning sun’s rays. 

“You are so beautiful,” Steve whispered as he moved to lay next to you. 

“So are you,” you smiled while cuddling close to him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked sweetly, kissing your forehead in the process. 

“Yeah, I guess I feel a little sore,” you giggled as you moved your head upwards to feel your lips on his again. 

Steve gasped into the kiss, breaking it apart to get some tissues from his nightstand. “Do you need a bath, some water, or food?” He asked whilst wiping the remnants of his climax away on your thighs. 

“I’m fine, Steve, I promise.” You smiled as he looked at you with the biggest hazel gaze. 

Truthfully, you looked like a goddess glowing next to him with the dawn reflecting on your skin. He wasn’t sure if there were enough words in any dictionary to describe your beauty. Maybe not even from the book you were reading before bed. “How about you sleep for a bit and then when you wake up, I’ll have all your favourite breakfast foods on the kitchen table?” The offer was so tempting coming from Steve’s lips. 

“Hmm, what if I want to help you?” You giggled. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be separate from him for too long. The place in between your thighs was begging for his touch again. “There is a scene in that book where the prince and the lady were eating breakfast and then—”

You stopped speaking when you saw Steve reach behind him to find the novel on his nightstand, before flipping pages in the book to see what you were talking about. “Maybe you should read this story to me another day and I can help you every time you get really excited during a scene,” he winked. 

“Another day?” 

“Yes, for now, we could get started on writing the beginning of our newest story, dove. If you would like to, of course.” Steve whispered the words as he hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with each breath that tickled your skin. 

“I’d really, really love that,” you smiled up at him, bringing your arms around his neck in the process. 

If one thing was for certain after tonight: both of you found comfort and love in each other’s arms — and later on in a few different sections of the book store too. 

-:-:-:-:-

#my writing #writing #st fanfic #st fanfiction #fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #LazyGhoulsKinktober2023 #friends to lover #fluff #fluff and smut #best friend!steve #innocent!reader #perv!steve harrington #perv!steve harrington x innocent!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #afab reader #slight somnophilia #just the tip #st #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #my fic #writing prompt #steve harrington #set before season 4

[yellowsweater-bluevest]

“I don’t think I’m straight.”

Steve had reached that conclusion exactly ten seconds before saying it out loud. Laying upside down on the couch of his house with his best friend draping her legs on top of him.

“Is that what you were thinking about?” Robin asked, not lifting her eyes from her book.

“Yeah, it just makes sense.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve hummed thoughtfully. Did he want to talk about it? Was it important enough? Did it change anything?

“I feel the same,” he said. “I thought being gay would feel different.” For a second, Steve was sure Robin would tell him that was a stupid thing to think.

“Are you gay?” Robin asked instead, because she is Robin. She was able to ask something in a judgemental tone without being judgy.

“I'm not straight.” he repeated.

“Pretty sure there are more than two options.” She explained with a joking tone. It was lucky, she thought, that she found a zine hidden in a library when she visited her aunt in Indianapolis.

“How do I know what I am?”

“I don't know, actually,” she said, putting her book down. “I've never seen what the big deal with men is.” Robin explained, crossing her arms. “That's how I knew.”

“I definitely see the big deal with women,” Steve responded simply.

“What about men?”

“I think I always saw the big deal, I just pretended it did not exist.” Steve explained.

“Oh, sweet old denial.” She teased. “How do you feel about this?”

“I would feel better if I had better taste.” Steve deadpanned, causing Robin to laugh and kick him. He slid out of the sofa dramatically to the floor. “Kicking me while I'm most vulnerable, Buckley? I see your game.”

“I have been bidding my time to find your weak spot, Harrington.” Robin joked lightly, jabbing Steve’s legs with her foot. “You will fall, Steven!”

Steve retaliated by pulling her into the floor.

“Look who's falling now?”

“Whatever,” Robin pushed herself to sit upward, sitting on the floor with her back against the sofa. Steve mimicked her with his back against the coffee table. “Who is the guy?” she asked.

“I don't wanna tell you,” Steve whispered, more out of respect for their tradition than anything else. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“Of course I will,” she whispered back. Steve reached for her hand to intertwine their fingers and she held him without batting an eye. “That’s kinda my job as your soulmate.” Steve chuckled. “I have to make sure whoever it is doesn’t mess up our vibe, you know?” He didn’t.

“I’m sure he won’t."

"Are you really gonna make me guess?" Steve lit up at the suggestion. Before he could speak, Robin continued "I'm not gonna guess, just tell me."

"Are you afraid of getting it wrong and looking like a fool?" He teased.

"It's Eddie." She answered less than a second later.

Steve did not respond, shocked at her quick response.

"Who's the fool now, Steve?" The smile on her face was infectious to Steve, who poker her with his foot.

"How did you do that?"

"By having eyes."

"What do you think?" She closed her eyes and hummed as Steve waited for her response.

"I think he looks at you the same way you look at him."

"I should ask him out."

"I can be your wingman!" She exclaimed.

"Oh, my god, yes!"

"We have to make a plan," Robin yelled. She jumped to her feet, letting go of Steve's hand, and dashed up the stairs. "I'm going to get some paper."

Steve stayed behind, sitting more comfortably on the floor, and removing the magazines they had on the coffee table off.

They made a plan, that ended in more of a disaster which is a story for another time. There is only one thing that is important.

Eddie said yes.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #st eddie munson #st steve #st4 #stranger things 4 #fanfic #st fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #arin writes #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #stobin friendship #stranger things robin #st robin #robin buckley

[theoreticslut]

「 jealousy, jealously 」

eddie munson x henderson!fem reader

summary: you were a part of hellfire long before your brother and his friends got to high school, yet they fit right into the club while you get pushed aside. 

requested: no

word count: 6.4k

warnings: light angst, jealousy, brief arguing/raised voices, lots of fluff, kissing, fake gagging, few curse words

a/n: i apparently can’t write short fics for eddie, but i don’t think anyone is complaining about it. plus, i think the fics are freaking adorable & i’m highkey kinda proud of them. so i hope you continue enjoying them, as i’ve got plenty of ideas for him with more coming daily. if you’ve got an idea you’d like done (for eddie or any other st character) feel free to send it my way & i’ll give it a go. also, i couldn’t think of a better title than this, but the actual fic has no purposeful inpsiration from the olivia rodrigo song. i hope you enjoy it regardless! Xx

Part 2 out now!

You groan as you see your brother and his friends make their way through the cafeteria towards you. Knowing it was their first day of high school, you had no doubt they’d try to sit with you. It’s not that you don’t want them to, but you’re terrified that they’ll embarrass you in front of your long-standing crush and dungeon master.

It had been a few months into your freshman year of high school when the small group of friends you’d found yourself in started ranting about how weird and creepy the Hellfire club - and their leader, Eddie Munson - was. You didn’t quite hold the same opinions, though, since you’d been playing the game for a few years by then. In fact, you had only recently given it up when the friend you played with moved towns.

It was during one of your free periods when their ranting became a bit annoying to you. You had started correcting and fact-checking them, forgetting that Eddie shared the study hall with you. You never even gave it a thought that he could hear the four of you talking until he stopped you at your locker after that period - the day, luckily, being over.

He wanted to know how you knew so much about the game which is when you admitted you had played. Of course that knowledge completely floored him. 

When he was able to pull himself back together, though, he offered for you to join them at lunch the following day to meet the group and see if you wanted to become their newest member. You agreed, and within the week found yourself a permanent part of hellfire with your own shirt and everything.

It’s been two and a half years since then and you were still a part of the group, happily devoting your Thursday evenings to play the game. Within these past couple years and all the Thursdays you’ve spent in his presence, though, you found yourself falling hard for Eddie.

It’s nearly impossible not to when he’s so charismatic and funny. Not to mention how kind, passionate, and beautiful he is. You’d swear he was a fucking angel, regardless of the image he tries to portray.

“Y/n! Can we sit here with you? Please?” You hear your brother almost beg, catching your attention as your heart starts to race.

You’ve never mentioned to the group that you have a younger brother, especially not a younger brother that also plays D&D. You knew they’d want to be introduced to him, and you fear that he'd slowly come to replace you in the group.

“Who’re these kids?” Eddie questions, hands clasped in front of his face as he looks between you and the three younger boys standing behind you.

“Uh, Dustin, here, is my brother.” You start, nodding towards him as he smiles.

“A-and these are his friends, Mike and Lucas.” 

“A young Henderson…hmm? Tell me, do you guys play?” Eddie asks the three boys, catching them off guard, their mouths opening and closing as they figure out how to answer.

“They do. They’ve been playing for a few years.” You answer for them, motioning for them to just sit down.

“Thank you.” Mike and Lucas mouth, having sat on the same side of the table as you with Dustin.

You sigh, smiling lightly as you nod to them. Of course you don’t want to upset Eddie, but you’re also not going to leave your brother and his friends to fend for themselves.

Wanting to move on, you take a bite of your lunch, hoping that Eddie leaves the topic of the boys joining you alone. Having known him for three years, though, you should know that he can’t.

“You’ve never mentioned having a brother, Henderson.” He comments, and you can practically feel his eyes on you as you stare at your food.

“The topic never really came up.” 

“Not even when I’ve mentioned wanting to find new members?” He lightly smirks, curious as to why you’d keep such a thing secret. 

Surely you realize how great having a brother that plays D&D is? Within the year most of you will be graduating, and he needs someone to pass the dungeon master title on to. Your younger brother and his friends just starting high school couldn’t be a better option.

“Figured you’d find him and his friends soon enough anyways.” you comment, still not looking up to the curly-haired adonis.

“Hmm, well they’ve saved me the work of searching them out by coming over here. Welcome to hellfire, boys.” 

“Wait, you’re just letting them join?” Gareth questions.

“Yeah. You’ve seen Henderson play. If they know her then they’ve got to be good.” Eddie smiles, making your cheeks flush.

“They’re good, but not on my account.” You mumble.

“Nonsense. Still can’t believe you wouldn’t tell us about them before now, though.” 

“How come you haven’t, y/n? I mean, you talk about them all the time.” Dustin asks, before taking a bite of his food. 

At his statement, the rest of the group seem to perk up, curious to know what you say about each of them. 

“I do not. I’ve only mentioned the club a few times.” You huff, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit more.

“Only a few times to mom and I, but I hear you on the phone with your friend talking about them every week.”

“First off, why’re you even listening to me on the phone? Secondly, the only reason I talk about the club is because I’m updating her on my life.” 

“Got a rather boring life then.” Dustin quips and you simply gawk at him, not believing him right now as a few surprised chuckles leave the rest of the boys.

“Shut up and eat, Dustin. No one asked for your input.” 

You watch him shrug before turning to Mike and Lucas while you stick to staring at your food, feeling the group's eyes on you. It’s bad enough you’re the only girl in the group, you didn’t need them to know you talk about them on a weekly basis.

Little do you realize that Eddie can’t help but find himself smiling at this new side of you. He’s been intrigued by you ever since he first heard you correcting your friends back in your freshman year. He couldn’t believe that such a beautiful girl would play the game he loved.

Of course, after watching you play and just spending time with you during lunch, he’s found himself crushing on you, even if you still remained a bit of a mystery to him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you of his feelings, though. Not once in the three years he’s known you.

Hearing that you talk about the club, though, makes his heart race. You really enjoy their company so much that you’d talk about them to a friend? It’s insane to him, and yet it makes him feel giddy. He can’t help but wonder what you’ve said - about the club or about him.

~.~

“Lauren, I’m telling you! For as long as I’ve been a part of the club, my brother joins and suddenly that’s all they care about. They all like my brother and his friends better than me.” You sigh, turning onto your back as you stare at the ceiling.

“I highly doubt that, y/n. I’m sure it’s just that your brother and his friends are still new.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Laur. I mean, it’s not like I really bring anything to the group.”

“Y/n, you’re the only girl.”

“That doesn’t mean anything though.” You almost whine. 

You hate to admit it, but you’ve been feeling left out of the club ever since your brother and his friends joined a few months ago. You had the feeling that this would happen, even though you hoped it wouldn’t.

It’s not like you really bring anything to the group, though, now that you’ve introduced Dustin, Lucas, and Mike to the club. Your character isn’t super powerful or helpful or anything. You’re not the best roller. You’re just there...seemingly wasting space.

“Pretty sure it does. I mean, the way you’ve talked about…what’s his name, Eddie?”

“What about him?”

“The way you’ve talked about him, it sounds like he likes you.”

“No. No, he doesn’t. I’m sure of that. He barely talks to me.” You sigh, rolling over onto your stomach as you bury your head into the pillows.

“Y/n, hon, boys are terrible at talking to the girls they like!” Lauren laughs, and you know she’s shaking her head at you.

“Not Eddie. He usually can’t stop flirting, and yet he doesn’t flirt with me. I don’t even think he’s ever actually called me by my name, Laur. I’m just...Henderson to him.”

“Maybe you make him nervous.”

“Me? Make him nervous? Laur, you’ve lost your mind!” You scoff, knowing you could never make a guy nervous. 

Guys don’t even notice you, for crying out loud. How can you make them nervous?

“I don’t make guys nervous. Guys don’t even notice me, Laur. I’m not you.”

“Okay, now you’re just being down on yourself and I’m not going to have that. If this Eddie guy can’t see how fucking amazing you are, then he just doesn’t deserve you. Alright?”

“Not alright. I want him to like me. Like, a lot.” You pout.

“I’m telling you he does. If I’m wrong then I’ll drive myself down there and let you have free go at me. How’s that?”

“You know I’d never do that to you, but I’m telling you that you’re wrong.”

“Sure, I like him, but I know it’s never going to happen.” You sigh, twirling the cord as you stare at your bedspread, still laying on your stomach.

“What’s never going to happen?” You hear Dustin ask, making you jump and drop the phone.

“Dustin, get out of my room!”

“But it’s time to go! We’re going to be late if we don’t leave, y/n, and I don’t want to upset Eddie by being late.” He rambles, and all you can do is roll your eyes.

“Fine. Go get in the car. I’ll be right down.”

“Don’t forget that we’re picking up Mike and Lucas. And don’t forget your folder!”

“I won’t. Now go.” You groan, rolling back onto your stomach and grabbing the phone.

“I’m sorry, Laur. I’ve got to go.” 

“Time to go see your man, huh?” She teases and you roll your eyes, attempting to fight back a blush.

“He’s not my man. Never will be. I’ll call you later, though, okay?” 

“You better! Love you.”

With a ‘love you’ of your own you hang up the phone and roll off of your bed. Grabbing your backpack and a sweater, you slip your shoes on before grabbing your keys and leaving the room.

You really kind of hope tonight’s game goes by quickly, not wanting to be in Eddie’s presence longer than necessary.

~.~

Eddie can’t help but frown as he watches you tonight. He’s been noticing how you’ve been seeming more and more down, almost seeming to pull into yourself and away from the group this past month.

You’ve been quiet lately, which isn’t terribly out of character for you, but it seems different than normal. You don’t quite have that same brightness to you that Eddie’s come to look forward to each day.

“Henderson, is everything alright?”

At his voice you’re pulled from your thoughts, turning to look at the beautiful, curly-haired man that makes your heart race and palms sweat.

“Mhm. Fine.” You hum, nodding and sending a small smile in his direction.

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm.”

As you hum, you turn your attention back to your clasped hands on the table as you zone back out to Dustin and the rest of the group chattering around you.

“Little Henderson, is something up with your sister?” you hear Eddie question as he turns his attention to your brother. 

“Unbelievable.” You huff, shaking your head and crossing your arms as you slump back in your chair.

“Excuse me?” 

“Nothing. Never mind.” You mumble, staring at the table in front of you as you chew on the inside of your cheek.

All you did was zone out for a moment. You don’t understand why he’d have to ask Dustin what’s wrong when that’s all you did. It’s not like he’s ever actually taken notice of your emotions before to know that something is wrong.

“I think she’s upset about a guy.” Dustin speaks up after a moment and you can’t help but scowl at him, brows furrowed in shocked anger.

“A guy?” Eddie questions, almost seeming surprised.

“Yeah.” 

“It’s not about a guy, Dustin. Maybe try keeping your head out of my business.” You retort, jaw tensing in anger.

“But you were saying something about liking someone and how it’s not going to happen.”

“And I told you to stop listening in on me when I’m on the phone.” 

“Then what’s wrong?” Dustin questions, seeming like he genuinely wants to know which irritates you slightly. Why does he have to be so caring when you’re trying to be angry with him?

“Doesn’t matter.” you state, wanting the conversation to be over.

“Yes, it does.”

“If I wanted to tell you, Dustin, I would. Just leave it.” 

“G-guys, can we…can we get playing again?” You hear Mike stutter out and you let out a deep breath.

“Yeah. Sorry for getting off topic. Let’s play.”

“Are you going to be alright to play?” Eddie questions, looking you over, seemingly studying your body language.

He’s never seen you upset before, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going on. It’s not like you to be angry and short with others. Not when he’s always seen you as the happy, upbeat one of the group. 

Could it be a guy like Dustin suggested? Or is it just that you’re not feeling well? Either way he can’t help but want to know.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this going again.” you answer, not bothering to look at anyone but rather as the table and your hands. 

“Henderson-“ Eddie starts, but you quickly cut him off, taking him by surprise at the sheer frustration coming from you.

“Do you not want me playing right now? I said I’ll be fine. Believe me, will you?” 

“Alright. Where were we?”

You let out a breath as you all slowly get back to the game, although you can feel the tenseness of the air still lingering. Attempting to ignore it, you force yourself to focus on what Eddie and everyone else is saying, hoping to god the campaign isn’t much longer.

~.~

Taking your seat at the lunch table, you feel Gareth and Jeff’s eyes on you. It’s like they’re not sure how to talk to you, almost afraid that you’re still as touchy as you were last night during the game.

“I’m not going to bite your heads off, you know.” You comment, not bothering to look up at them as you shove a forkful of food into your mouth.

“You’re sure?” Gareth questions, eyes wider than normal as he still seems cautious.

“Mhm. I just wasn’t feeling great last night.”

“Okay. You’ve just…never been like this.” He states and you know he’s not wrong. Ever since you first joined the club you’ve been quiet and almost demure, not wanting to create any issues. 

You shrug, acknowledging his statement, but leave it unanswered. There’s not really anything to say to that. Not when the entire reason for your irritation is kind of embarrassing and childish.

The two of them don’t seem to mind though, going back to talking amongst themselves as you eat in silence, waiting for everyone else to join the table.

It’s not like anything really changes once everyone is there. They all chat amongst themselves while you keep to yourself, only giving short replies when talked to. You simply eat in silence as you let yourself fall into your thoughts, not wanting to make the atmosphere tense like you had last night.

No one seems to mind, though. At least you don’t think they do. Not until Eddie slides into the empty desk next to yours in your shared study hall at the end of the day.

“Hey, Henderson.” He greets, voice lowered so as to not get yelled at by the teacher or to potentially get on your bad side.

“Hey.” 

“What’s…what’s going on lately?”

“What do y’mean?”

“You’ve been quieter than usual. Not as happy either.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Eddie.” You mumble, not wanting to share what’s been going on.

“No? See, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Something’s bothering you.” 

“So what if there is? I’m not telling you unless I want to.” 

At your reply, Eddie simply sighs, and you can’t help but feel a little rude. It’s not like he’s done anything, it’s just your stupid thoughts and feelings getting in the way.

“Alright then. I’m not going to push for an answer. I just...I need to know that whatever it is won’t be interfering with the campaign.” 

“It won’t be. Not from here on out.”

“Here on out?”

“I’m quitting the club. Been thinking about it for a while now.” You admit, watching his face fall at your words.

“Henderson-“

“It’s y/n, Eddie.“

As the words leave your lips, the bell rings to signal that the day is finally over. Without hesitating a second, you’re up from your seat and walking away, leaving Eddie confused and scrambling to catch up to you.

“Y/n?” He calls, chasing you from the classroom and towards the doors, not caring that he needed to stop at his locker.

You see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike waiting by the trash can at the edge of the parking lot, and you sigh. You really can’t wait to get home.

“Y/n?! What’s brought this on? Why do you wanna leave the club?” Eddie calls as he continues to follow you towards the parking lot.

“You’re leaving hellfire?” Dustin questions, him and the other two boys having heard Eddie.

“Just get in the car, Dustin.”

“But you’re leaving hellfire?! You can’t just do that!” 

“Exactly! Why’re you trying to leave?” Eddie questions, panting lightly as he finally catches up to you at your car.

“I’m not trying to leave, Eddie. I am leaving. I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. Sorry.”

“No. You can’t just leave. We haven’t finished the campaign yet.”

“You’ll figure out how to continue it without me, I’m sure.”

Of course he’d just be upset about the game getting messed up and not about you actually leaving. Why would he care when he’s still got Little Henderson there? 

“I’ll return my shirt next week.” You state, moving to get into the car.

“Th-that’s not necessary. Hold onto the shirt. Keep it for memory’s sake, I mean.”

“If that’s what you want.” 

Eddie nods, watching you, seeming as if he wants to say something else but he can’t bring himself to.

“Is that everything?” You question, wanting nothing more than to leave.

“Yeah...Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah. See you around. Come on now, Dustin.”

“You two need rides?” You question Mike and Lucas, almost seeming to ignore Eddie as you get in the car. They shake their heads and you nod, closing your door as you wait for Dustin to do the same.

Soon as he does, you’re putting the car in reverse and backing out as you had already started it. You really didn’t want to be there any longer than you already had been.

As you pull out of the parking lot, though, you can feel Dustin wanting to ask questions, but he seems scared to anger you, so he stays quiet. His questions simply swirling around his head, instead.

~.~

“Wait, you did what now?!” Lauren questions, almost screaming into the receiver.

“I quit the club. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.”

“But you enjoyed it.”

“I enjoyed it when I hadn’t been shoved to the background. I enjoyed it when I actually felt like a part of the club.” 

“So talk to them? You don’t just quit something because it stopped being fun.”

“I think that’s precisely what you do when a club stops being fun, Laur. Besides, it’s not like they miss me.” You huff, pulling your feet towards your body as you lay on your stomach, softly kicking them in the air.

It’s been just about a month since you quit the club, and while it saddens you a little, you’ve also felt the tiniest bit of relief. You don’t have to try so hard to keep your crush on Eddie hidden anymore. You don’t have to spend every lunch period listening to the guys talk about whatever it is they do while you sit to the side. You don’t have to feel like the outcast in the group of outcasts. 

Sure you miss playing the game, but it’s not the end of the world. You’ve found other things to keep yourself preoccupied. Mostly just listening to music and doing your homework, but you’ve found yourself picking up art as a hobby as the days dragged on, slowly starting to fill and old sketchbook you’ve had lying around.

~.~

“It’s still so weird that y/n isn’t here.” Gareth comments as the boys watch you sit at a different table once again. They don’t know why, but they keep hoping this has just been some kind of nightmare and that any day you’ll actually sit back down with them. It just doesn’t make sense why you’d leave them all so abruptly. 

“Yeah. It is.” Jeff agrees, sighing as they see a smile form on your face with a laugh falling out right after. It’s been way too long since any of them have seen you like this, and it kind of hurts.

“She still wears her shirt a lot.” Dustin informs, looking at the older boys - Eddie included - as they watch you.

“She does?” Eddie questions, the bit of knowledge somehow lifting him up a little.

He hated hearing you say you were quitting, and he hated it even more when Monday came around the week after and you didn’t sit with them. Nearly three years you had sat by his side and suddenly you weren’t there anymore. It felt beyond wrong, but he didn’t know what to do to fix it, if there even was anything that he could do.

“Yeah. She seems to wear it all the time now. I’m honestly not sure when the last time was that she didn’t wear it.”

Eddie nods, smiling lightly at the thought. He can’t help but wonder if there’s anything different he could have done to keep you from leaving. Was it something he had said? Or done? Was it just him?

“She’s been acting weird since she left. I heard her on the phone the other day-“

“You really should stop that, Dustin.” Eddie pipes up, but the younger boy doesn’t seem to hear.

“She said something about how she couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine after mentioning to her friend that she quit.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve never known her to pretend about anything. I don’t know what she was talking about.”

“Because then she said something about enjoying the club when she felt like a part of it? She’s always been a part of it though.” Dustin continues, frowning as he eats his food.

He may not understand what you were talking about, but Eddie has a sinking feeling that he does. He really hopes he’s wrong though. 

He doesn’t want to admit that he was giving your brother and his friends more attention than he’s ever really gave you. It’s not that they’re better than you in any way, honestly. It’s just that they’re boys. 

He’s always hesitated in giving you attention during meetings or at lunch, because he didn’t want anyone to catch onto the crush he has on you. He was afraid that if Gareth or Jeff knew he liked you, that it’d make the atmosphere awkward. 

Even by keeping you at a distance, though, the two guys picked up on Eddie’s crush. It’s not in his character to be quiet or reserved in the slightest, so when they noticed how he constrained himself in conversation with you, they knew something was up.

Still, Eddie could never allow himself to act the same way with you like he does with Gareth and Jeff, and now your brother and his friends. He wanted you to like him, so he kept himself from being sarcastic and outspoken with you. Hearing Dustin talk though, Eddie has the suspicion that his plan may have backfired.

“Your sister still picks you up from the meetings, doesn’t she?” Eddie questions, already planning out what he wants to say to you when he can get you aside for a moment.

“No. Nancy’s been dropping me off or I’ve just been riding my bike.” 

“I’ll be driving you home tonight then.” 

“O-okay?!”

Eddie chuckles lightly at Dustin’s excitement, but he never takes his eyes off of you across the cafeteria. He needs to talk to you, and he’s hoping that tonight he can do just that.

~.~

“You know it ain’t easy, running out of thrills. You know it ain’t easy when you don’t know what you want.” 

You hum, laying on your bed as you listen to the drums, guitar, and vocals of Europe fill your room.

“What do you want?” You question, mirroring the song, your foot tapping against your bedspread as you close your eyes.

“Woah-oh-oh, you want to rock now, rock the night, ‘til early in the morning light. Rock now, rock the night.”

“Woah-oh, woah-oh, yeah!” You sing, smiling lightly. 

It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to just relax and enjoy listening to your music without worrying about homework or being late to hellfire. One of the plus sides of quitting the club - you finally get time just for yourself.

Hearing a knock on your door, you hum loud enough to acknowledge whoever is at the door.

“y/n? You’ve got a visitor.” Dustin calls, gently opening your door.

“Who?” You question, sitting up on your bed, nodding as Eddie comes into view behind Dustin.

“Oh…hi.”

“Hi. I-is it alright if I come in?” He questions, pausing in your doorway.

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

As he makes his way inside, you situate yourself in your bed so you’re comfortably sitting up.

“Do you…” 

At Eddie’s voice, you look up to see him questioning you about your door, going to close it before swinging it open.

“You can close it if you want. I don’t care.” 

He nods, softly shoving the door to close it, not quite giving it enough force to close all the way so there’s a little crack left open.

“So what’re you doing here?” You question him, watching him as he looks around, seeming a bit out of place with your soft white walls and contradicting decor.

While he may fit into the plethora of rock band posters covering your walls and the many records and cassettes you’ve got laying around, he doesn’t fit in with the florals and stuffed animals you’ve got elsewhere in your room.

“I, uh, I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?”

You can’t help but chuckle as he spots the bralette hanging out of your dresser, you having been too lazy to tuck it back in earlier, and seems to pale in horror. For seeming so confident and cocky, he sure doesn’t look it being in a girl’s room.

“You can sit, you know.” You offer, motioning to the chair you’ve got in the corner of your room.

“Yeah, okay.” He mumbles, taking a few steps over towards the chair before sitting on the edge of the seat.

You watch as he takes in your room, fidgeting with his hands and rings as he does so. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was nervous to be here.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Uh, well, w-we really miss you being in the club. G-gareth, Jeff, and I. I mean, s-so do the younger ones, but…”

“But you three miss me more?” You question, eyebrow cocking in disbelief.

“Well, yeah…yeah.”

“Okay.” You deadpan, not sure what he wants in reply to that. It’s nice to hear that they miss you, but it doesn’t really change anything.

A brief moment passes where you watch Eddie, waiting for him to say something else. Taking in his mannerisms and body language, you can’t remember a time when Eddie’s ever looked so nervous and unsure of himself.

“D-dustin was saying you felt left out? Of the club?” Eddie clarifies, drawing up just enough courage to look at you.

“He was listening to me on the phone again, wasn’t he?” 

“Y-yeah. I tried telling him to stop, but I don’t think he heard me.” he sighs, chuckling lightly in nerves as you shake your head.

“I don’t think he’ll ever stop, if I’m honest. He’ll be traumatized one day or another I’m sure.” You laugh, shaking your head at the thought as you smile.

“It’s true though? You…you felt left out?”

“Yeah. It’s dumb, I know, but you guys took so easily to Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.”

“I get it, they’re great kids, and they play D&D…but it’s like they didn’t even have to try to fit into the group.” You sigh, knowing it’s about time you share at least part of the problem.

“No. No, it’s not dumb. I’m sorry we made you - I made you - feel that way.” Eddie sighs, catching your line of sight in his, wanting you to realize how sincere he’s being.

He never wanted to make you feel left out, it’s just his stupid feelings that got in the way.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyways.” 

“It does matter, though. We’d - I’d - really like you to join the group again. It’s not the same without you there, y/n.”

“I’m sorry. I just, I really don’t think joining again would be good, though.” You admit, knowing that if you joined again you’d still just be upset that nothing will ever come from your crush on him.

“How come? I-is there something else that’s been bothering you about the club? I want you to feel welcome.”

“No. No, It’s nothing about the club, Eddie. There’s just a lot of things going on personally that’d make it hard.”

“That guy issue?”

“What?”

“Is it anything to do with that guy issue Dustin mentioned?” Eddie questions, and you can’t help but gawk at him.

“Does he not like you playing or something?”

“What? No.” you answer, shaking your head incredulously, wondering how Eddie got it into his head that you’d ever be wanted by someone. Has he never actually watched how other guys interact with you?

“Then what is it? Why won’t you come back to the club?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just...can’t. It’s better if I let you guys enjoy it yourselves.”

“It’s not better, though. We all want you back, y/n.”

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, not knowing what else you can say. 

A moment passes where neither of you say anything and you start to think that maybe you’re done talking. Before you can say anything of the sort though, Eddie’s asking a question.

“Tell me, is there anything I can do? Anything that would make you want to come back?”

“No…no, there’s nothing you could do, eddie, I promise y-“

“There must be.” He argues, wanting nothing more than to find something he can do to get you to come back. 

He misses you more than he thought possible, and he just needs there to be something - anything - he can do.

“There’s not, though.”

“How come?”

“What?”

“How come there’s nothing I can do? Are you just that dead set on not coming back? Even though we all miss you?”

“If I could, trust me that I would join the group again. I just, I can’t right now, Eddie. I’m sor-“

“Why can’t you?”

“Because…because of you.” You sigh, fed up with him pushing for an answer.

“Me?”

“You, Eddie. I can’t come back because of you. Because if I did then I’d just get all upset again because my heart is dumb and doesn’t know how to listen.” 

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, taking a deep breath as you look at him. You can’t seriously be getting ready to tell him this, but you are. You don’t see any other option right now.

“I like you, Eddie.” You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I like you, but you don’t like me. I mean, it’s obvious between you never talking to me or looking at me and how you’ve always called me Hender-“

You gasp, moaning lightly as you get cut off by a pair of lips on yours. Eddie was kissing you to shut you up.

At the realization you can’t help but panic, not understanding why he’d do this when he doesn’t like you. 

“Eddie!” 

“Fuck! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just, you were rambling and saying I didn’t like you but I do! I do. I like y-“

It’s his turn to gasp and groan into the kiss as you pull him to your lips, one hand tightly grasped in the front of his shirt while the other drapes around his shoulders, holding him close to you.

As he realizes what’s happening, he relaxes into the kiss, his one hand coming up to caress your cheek as the other holds himself up on the bed.

It’s not until you’re both out of breath and gasping for air do you actually pull away from each other, your hand relaxing against his chest as he lowers his from your cheek.

“Woah.” He sighs, trying to catch his breath as he chuckles lightly, studying your face.

“Yeah.” You murmur, ghosting your fingers over your lips as if trying to remember if that actually just happened.

“Uhm, so I like you. If-if that wasn’t obvious.” He stutters and you chuckle, smiling at the curly-haired dork.

“I like you too.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. Made you feel left out when I was just too nervous to admit I liked you.”

“I’m sorry I got all moody and quit the club because I was jealous of my brother instead of just telling you how I felt.”

“So…does this mean you’ll come back?” He asks, hopeful, as he kneels in front of you.

“You’ll stop treating me differently?”

“Mhm. Trust me when I say there’ll be no pushing you away after that.” 

“Mm. Don’t be treating me specially either just because we kissed.” you lightly chuckle, cocking a brow as you chew on your lip to hold back the smile wanting to light up your face.

“Can I treat you differently if I ask you to be my girlfriend?” he questions, a wide, goofy smile filling his face as he looks at you.

A smile grows on your face at his sheer happiness, drawing a light chuckle from you as you reply to his question.

“Not during game play. We don’t wanna be unfair to the guys, do we?”

“Mm, you’re right. If I promise to not treat you specially during gameplay then will you be my girlfriend?” he asks, really wanting to hear you say yes. He’s only liked you for nearly three years, frequently imagining you as his girlfriend the entire time.

“I would really love for you to be my girlfriend, and I your boyfriend. It just. It sounds really nice.” 

“You ramble a lot. You know that?” You giggle, tucking some hair behind his ear as a blush dusts over his cheeks.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Sometimes.” You smile, biting your lip to keep from kissing him again.

“So…?”

“If you promise not to treat me specially during the game, then I’d love to be your girlfriend, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” He questions, as if he doesn’t believe that you’d agree.

“Yeah.”

With the word out of your mouth, his lips find yours again, pulling a chuckle from your body as he slowly lowers himself on top of you, pinning you against your mattress as he kisses you, one hand cupping your cheek as the other rests on your waist.

“Did you-ew!” You hear Dustin call from your doorway, fake gagging as he sees Eddie on top of you, effectively startling the man back into kneeling at the end of your bed.

“Did we what, dustin?” You ask, leaning around Eddie’s body to look at your brother still standing at your doorway, one hand plastered over his eyes.

“I wanted to see if you two had figured things out, but it seems like you did.”

“Yeah, we did, little henderson. Your sister is coming back to the club.” Eddie shares, smiling at you as he situates himself on the bed beside you, Dustin uncovering his eyes in excitement at the exact same time.

“Can you please get off of my sister?” he begs, shielding his eyes again as eddie places a soft kiss to your lips in his own happiness of you coming back to the club.

“But I like being close to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?! You’re dating my sister?!” Dustin exclaims, a look of pure shock and disgust on his face.

“Is there a problem with it, Dustin?” You question, watching your brother almost seeming to pout.

“I guess not. Just…don’t be gross when I’m around. Please?”

“We’ll try not to be.” Eddie states, smiling at you as Dustin nods, giving a small okay before leaving the two of you alone.

As the door closes, Eddie’s looking back at you, both of you chuckling.

“Guess you were right in saying he’d be traumatized one day.” He chuckles, leaning down to give you another kiss, never realizing just how amazing it’d feel to have your lips on his.

You can’t help but smile into it, enjoying the feel of his body on yours. You’ve only been imaging this moment for nearly four years. You’ve got to say that nothing you imagined could ever live up to the reality, though. Kissing Eddie is like a little slice of heaven, you swear.

It certainly took you long enough to get here, but now that you’re here, you don’t ever want to go back.

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[mysticmunson]

between four walls (e.m.)

a/o/b: alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader

summary: when you disappear from school for a few days, eddie is a bit bewildered, until he has a sneaking suspicion.

warning: a/o/b, smut, language

an: hi friends, thank you so much for another follower milestone! i asked what you would like next and this won! i've been working on a/o/b fics off and on for a few months, i think its very fun so feel free to message me ideas about them for blurbs! all my love. xx elora.

The sticky air of Hawkins, Indiana made Eddie’s slovenly curls cling to his neck, likely getting tangled in his beaded, silver chain as his sneakers padded across the rubble. The last place he wanted to be was in Hawkins High, the fluorescent lights bouncing off the cream walls too poignantly and banners announcing peer events. 

He had always had a distaste for conformity, but after presenting as an Alpha, he clandestinely craved a sense of ordinariness. His toes pressed against the tip of his sneakers, his favorite leather jacket felt tighter, and his skin felt like the fizz on a freshly opened Coca-Cola. Sensations fluctuate depending on the day with his body attempting to steady itself as his mind tries to comprehend his new demeanor. 

While every day had been weird since that fateful day last month, his friends tried to maintain normality by focusing on Hellfire or acknowledging how his buff physique made him look menacing, but things had been slightly off with you. 

Every day you sat beside Eddie, even if he assured he wouldn’t be upset if you decided to relocate to avoid the relentless teasing he faced, but you stayed. After years of friendship, you chose to ignore any conflicted gazes, opting to enjoy your company. With satin ribbons in your hair, flowy, floral dresses that rest just above your knees, and your soft skin that always smelled like vanilla from your tube of hand lotion, he felt protective over you.

So when you moved from his left to the very end of the table, each inch felt like miles, cursing himself for feeling so intensely. Always admiring your beauty from a respectful distance, he adamantly maintained the friendship boundary, learning the line and fighting to take a step over.

As he sat in his math class, he awaited your arrival to your assigned seat at the second row of wooden desks, but the bell rang and it remained empty. This was the third day in a row, the first time you had even missed a full day, always finding some hidden strength to persevere through most of the school day. Hell, you often grilled Eddie on his lack of punctuality when it came to his education. 

The hairs on his arms stood up, his foot tapping relentlessly against the freshly waxed tile below, trying to rationalize your behavior and disappearance. Plucking the loose threads on his ripped jeans, he couldn’t bother to even think of equations. 

Your lack of communication had him on high alert, resisting the urge to confront you in fear of scaring you. He didn’t feel a need to worry about it until he presented, his voice dropped a tad lower, his facial hair growing faster which left him with consistent stubble, and his eyes felt sharper despite their baby-like softness. 

As class ended with Eddie not retaining a word of information, he looked at the double doors sending sunlight through, thinking how easy it would be to drive to your house and find out what was wrong. Why you hadn’t been answering his calls, why you weren’t at school, and why you even missed Hellfire. Granted, you didn’t know much about Dungeons and Dragons and usually just sat and watched, it felt peculiar to see your chair empty. 

Meanwhile in a quiet house at the curve of a cul de sac, you laid in bed wearing a shirt a size too big and underwear, leaving your mouth open to breathe. The fever encompassing your body added to your discomfort, tears selvage as your tired eyes stare at the wall, hoping that you would be back to normal soon.

Initially convinced it was a stomach ache, an awful flu that had you withering away in your bed, flustered as could be with clammy hands. But your gut wasn’t repulsed, it was the opposite, despite your body feeling like it was on fire as you laid in your bed, alone. 

It had been two miserable days since you presented as an omega, leaving you stranded with nothing to assist yourself. The clock only seemed to be moving slower as you could barely sleep without finding yourself in the depths of another dream, a dream of him.

“I’m glad we checked on you, you look like hell.” Robin joked, walking through your bedroom door with Nancy right behind. Even in your delirious state, you knew they typically didn’t hang out together, furrowing your brows. 

“Steve’s in the car waiting,” Nancy responded to your voiceless query, reaching her hand up to your forehead with a frown. “Shit, you’re burning up, have you gone to a doctor?” 

You shook your head, burrowing half of your face into your pillow with a deflated sigh, “I feel like shit and my stomach hurts, but not in a bad way, but so much that it is painful?” You stuttered in confusion, eyes hazy and unfocused. 

Robin fiddled with the various knick knacks in your room, lifting a pair of earrings to her in the mirror. Nancy stood back, looking at you with a thoughtful expression, rubbing her chin almost comically. 

“I also just want to call Eddie, but I keep feeling like I’m going to cry if I do. I talk to him everyday! It’s not my period either, I don’t know what's happening!” You exasperated, clenching your sheets closer to your chest as Nancy’s features clenched, sitting on the corner of your bed. 

Eddie had been your best friend for years and your longing crush for most of them. Conversations on the phone were routine for you, usually playfully arguing about something meaningless or watching a tv show while giving commentary. 

“Sounds like you're presenting, dude.” Robin laughed, turning around, only to be met with your fear filled face and Nancy’s “Did you seriously just say that?” expression that Robin had experienced frequently. 

With your parents being an alpha and omega duo, the chances they gave birth to one was highly likely, it was something you had expected. The days prior had left you anxious and exhausted, believing it just to be school related and nothing to note. 

“What?” You mumbled, sitting up, breath picking up as tears welled up, “Eddie’s an alpha, right? Oh my God!”

“Hey, hey! Calm down, you’re fine.” Nancy assured, pushing your shoulder gently back, looking at Robin for some form of support.

“I just want Eddie, but I-” You whimpered, hands coming up to your face before a random flannel was thrown at you from Robin. 

His flannel. 

His fucking red and black flannel he had accidentally left last weekend, you could’ve cried when you smelt it, the pain intensifying, but also blooming peace. 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.” Nancy stroked your hair, even her heart breaking a bit at your muffled sadness. “Just try to relax, drink some water, and distract yourself. Okay?” You nodded, thanking them through the fabric in front of your face. 

As the girls trudged down the stairs, Robin looked at Nancy with a bewildered face, the front door closing behind them.

“We should tell Eddie! Apparently it’s fucking brutal the first time around!” She kept her tone hushed, Nancy sighing as she looked at the grass beneath our feet.

“She’s had a crush on him for years, Rob. What if something happens and it ruins their friendship? We have to let nature run its course. If she calls him, so be it, but we can’t be the ones to make that call.” Nancy sighed, opening Steve’s back seat door and piling in, Robin filing in the front.

The days for you were fairly torturous, only comforted by the smokey scent of the old flannel and the fantasies you entertained. Your mind began to run as you envisioned Eddie in all his alpha glory, which you hadn’t had the honor of seeing since he immediately goes into hiding when his rut hits.

His broad shoulders, firm grip that is free of rings since his hands swell, his plush lips cascading down your frame. The thought alone made you whimper, opening your eyes to glance at your pink phone, your shaking hands not even able to spin the dial. Your wooden bedside table felt miles away as you stared at it, tears pooling in your eyes at your helplessness. 

Part of you hoped he noticed your exodus while the other hoped things would go completely back to normal when you returned. The concept was naive, knowing there was no way you would be able to go back to a regular friendship with him, a thought that plagued you as soon as he returned to school after his first rut.

The front doors of the school couldn’t open quick enough, having not spent a week apart throughout your whole friendship. Even when your family would go out of town, you would call and talk on the phone as if he were right in front of you. 

His shoes squeaked against the freshly waxed tile of Ms. Green’s history class, Eddie strolling to his assigned seat towards the front. His chest was broader, thighs a bit thicker, and his face had a certain maturity that you didn’t recall. He turned over his shoulder, ignoring the stares from everyone else and locking eye contact with you, giving you a grin that you exchanged. 

When you walked out of class, he yanked you into a hug playfully, laughing in a huskier tone. For a moment you felt dizzy, shaking your head and pushing the unwarranted anxiety to the side. He was your best friend who you had seen shitfaced, crying at romcoms, and shared his bed when you didn’t want to go home. 

Things felt different though, never having been friends with an Alpha made everything novice. Each interaction with him made you shiver, feeling light headed with a subtle pain in your abdomen. So you forced space between you, keeping conversation to a minimum and avoiding him if possible. You assumed the pain would subside after a few days, but every time you tried to inch closer, it came crawling back.

In the solitude of your bedroom, your mind drifted to Eddie, starting with the curiosity of where he was or who he was with. Then the thought of him with someone to help him through his rut crept in, bringing a wave of sadness with it. Your feelings for Eddie were prominent for a long time, but you feared losing your best friend, choosing to have him as a pal than not at all.

You thought of him buffing up even more than when he was at school, remembering when you felt his crotch pressed against you when he scooted past, the prominent bulge gathering your attention. Envisioning the chance to touch him made your mouth water, trembling in your pajamas at the thought of his arms holding you and pressing his chest against yours. The way his dick wouldn’t fit your hand, having to use both to fully wrap around it and pleasing him. 

The idea anyone else did it made you feel sick, grabbing his sweatshirt he left over once and inhaling the scent. The seemingly innocent action made you feel like a pervert as his perfume lingered faintly on the cotton. 

Those thoughts felt like pure cotton candy to the ones you had now, of how he could walk in and do whatever he wanted and you’d love it. No matter what action he was committing, you would cry and beg for more. Even the idea of him being in the same room as you had you whimpering, twisting and turning with huffs of built frustration. 

Nancy and Robin stopped by a few times to check in on you, knowing you were too overwhelmed to make yourself food or get water. The school hours they had would usually sync with your nap time as you always woke at random moments in the night. Eddie had mentioned you to Robin that morning, wondering if she had seen you, which she attempted to deflect. 

“Why don’t you and Wheeler sit with my boys today?” 

Nancy almost killed Robin for saying yes, not because of Eddie’s reputation, but because she knew Robin was close to breaking. Always going soft after seeing you, saying how they need to just get you help and speed up this process.

So with sandwiches in hand, they sat quietly as the members of Corroded Coffin conversed about the latest Hellfire meeting. The younger boys were on a freshman field trip, conveniently leaving room for the girls to sit. Eddie snacked on the cold cafeteria food with lingering eyes on them, their skin crawling at the information they knew. 

Thankfully, the talkative nature of Gareth and Jeff derailed everyone’s attention, only noticing the 5 minutes left when Nancy took a glance at her watch as they went to throw away their trash. With freedom at their fingertips, it only seemed pleasantly ironic for it all to come tumbling down when Jason Carver appeared.

The potent bags under his eyes made him resemble a tortured Greek God, bronzed skin under the sun kissed hairs on his head. Eddie opened his mouth to begin his tangent, feeling his legs twitching to hop upon the tabletops, even though his recent development made him a bit calmer.

“Where is she?” Jason asked, not even glancing at the man beside him, locking on the girl's enlarged eyes. 

“Who?” Robin questioned, providing an awkward smile that made Jason scoff, wishing his skills developed enough to find you himself.

Jason was one of the other alpha’s at school, his rut helping him with sports and wearing it proudly on his sleeve. His progression made sense, fulfilling the family history of powerful alphas, but he had yet to find an omega to care for. Or even just to hold him over as most went into seclusion during their heats.

He wouldn’t have even known if a fellow member of the basketball team overheard the girls talking in hushed tones in the hallway, presuming no one could hear them over the sounds of chatter and clashing lockers. 

As if intended, the bell rang loudly, everyone standing to return to class. Jason kept his intense gaze until his friends yanked him away, pestering him for information about that night's practice. Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver as he looked at the both of them, smelling a tinge of anxiety on them, a convenient sense he inhabited. 

“You guys have 10 seconds to say why Jason Carver just said her name.” He responded with fraudulent tranquility, his black lunch pail secured tightly in his palm, holding his ground despite the varying rushing bodies beside them. 

After a moment of silence, Nancy found herself surprised at her lack of a quick rebuttal, something about the look Eddie was giving her making her freeze. It wasn’t one of infatuation, more akin to fear as his tensity remained.

“She presented!” Robin sighed, shoulders relaxing as if pounds had been removed from her chest. Her friend smacked her arm, watching as the man across from them went stagnant. Despite the fleeting deliberations, all the girls across from him saw was his clenched jaw and his eyes diverting to the spot you typically sat.

“As what? And why the fuck does Jason Carver know before me?” He gritted out, clenched fists glued at the side of his thighs.

The bell signaling class started went off, jolting Nancy and Robin from their subtle haze, trying to think of anything to divert his attention. However, Robin couldn’t stop thinking about how you were crying for him, that you would feel infinitely better if she just mentioned the slight detail.

“I don’t know how he found out Eddie-” Nancy snapped, becoming irritated with the theatrics, wishing she was just in algebra class for the first time ever. 

“As an omega!” Robin blurted, Eddie’s eyes widening as his fists loosened, “She presented and has been a mess! She’s too emotional to do anything, just wallowing away and whining for you.” The last part trailed off, but Eddie understood it clearly, his instincts that just were beginning to sprout commencing to full bloom.

With tunnel vision, he found his way out of the school, not caring if any teacher saw him. His mind was on you. You, who had been crying in pain for him for days and no one cared to mention it. 

The way to your home went by in a blur, glad he knew the route well enough to not maintain complete fixation on the journey. His respiring didn’t cease as he sped down the old roads, trying his best to avoid the potholes or random piles of trash. 

He barely put the car into park before he was racing up your driveway, putting his hand behind the potted plant at the right side of the maroon door. With the key in hand, he was soon in, putting it in the nearby bowl at the entryway table. The house was quiet, everything in a perfect state, making him remember your parents were out of town for the week. 

The aroma reached his nose like a tidal wave, unfamiliar yet agrestal as he saw the light glowing from under the door at the end of the hall. His socks hit the carpet as he yanked his shoes off, promenading down the beige carpet with small floral detailing. 

The door opened when his hand gripped the bronze handle, finding you asleep in an oversized shirt, curled in on yourself with his lapsed flannel. A warm spread across his chest and his groin, stifling the animalistic noise fighting through. Approaching you, he pushed the hair from your face, feeling the intensity of your fever on his shaking palms.

His scent made you stir, squeaking as your body searched for the touch with the twist of your neck. He trailed his finger down the bridge of your nose, noting the small pores he had never been able to see before, trailing to your cupid's bow. 

Your eyes fluttered open as he knelt beside you, cupping your cheek gently as if you were fine china. Your pupils were dilated, practically encompassing your whole iris, and he could feel your internal heat increasing with his proximity. 

“Eddie.” You mumbled, confused if this was a cruel dream that your hormonal mind was conjuring, but he smiled, his thumb brushing past your bottom lashes. Lunging forward without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him on the bed, legs squirming with the growing discomfort between them.

As his body enveloped yours, he clenched his eyes tight, feeling the profound burst of testosterone. His stupor was interrupted when he felt a surge of wetness on his jeans, pulling away to see the slick that seeped through your thin cotton panties and to your mattress.

Wanting to avoid any embarrassment on your part, he smashed his lips to yours, keeping a steady hand on your jaw to maintain the pacing. There was no time to think about what you were doing or what your friendship would be after this, just the need to be close.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you, my omega.” He puffed as you whimpered, sitting up on his knees to pull off his shirt, initially going to throw it on the floor until you snatched it to bring to your nose. He plucked it out of your grasp with a teasing smile, putting it above your head beside your white pillows.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, inching it slowly up your body, revealing the skin he had been dreaming of. Discarding the old cloth, he stared in hunger at your chest as his hands grasped the mounds of flesh upon them. Wincing at your cry from the abrupt touch, simultaneously becoming harder beneath his constricting jeans.

Managing a way to strip them, he was left in boxers that did little to conceal his arousal, yet all his attention was on the sea between your legs. The fabric was so wet, the baby pink went to a darkened tone, making him rip them off.

“Oh, this cunt is just drooling for me, isn’t it?” He chuckled, running a finger through your folds before slotting it between his lips. Gasping, you reached to grab him, which he obliged. His lips met yours like slotted puzzle pieces, shimmying off his last article of clothing.

“Alpha, please.” You mewled, eyes wide as your lips hung open as he grabbed his length. The growl that escaped was impetuous, your nipples skimming across his milky chest, his hand stopping your jaw from when you tried to look downward.

“You’re okay, omega- Shh, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” He says softly, thumb stroking across your scorching skin, applying slight pressure.

He had always been well endowed, but after his presentation, things became more intense, especially when he was aroused. Eddie thought the idea that alpha’s couldn’t be with beta’s because it was dangerous was just dramatics, but when he came to full hardness with his knot in place, it made sense.

The last thing he wanted was for you to see him below right now, knowing your brain was already scattered and that he didn’t want to scare you. As an omega, your body was made for this, it was begging for it. It just took a little getting used to. 

His tip had barely probed your walls before you winced, clutching onto his shoulders like a lifeline. Though he knew you were in slight discomfort, something brought him amenity knowing he was going to help you feel much better.

Protruding further in, he slowly rocked his hips back and forth, pressing wet kisses to your skin and savoring the essence coming from it. He thought he could become high on you alone as you basked in his own scent, feeling as if it coated you from head to toe. 

“Feelin’ okay?” Eddie mustered, jolting his head back slightly when you started nodding profusely, making him chuckle and go deeper.

“You f-feel so good, so so good. Y-your cock,” You cried out, the tears tumbling down with mixed moans, “You’re so pretty and so n-nice to me, s-so nice even when you don’t-t have to be, which is so nice of y-you.” 

“Baby,” Eddie’s chest constricts and he smiles down to continue, only realizing he had inched his way fully inside when his balls bounced against the swell of your ass. A loud moan that vibrates within his chest comes out, making you grip to him more securely. 

“S-so big and full, so full, I don’t want you to leave, please.” You whimpered, hand reaching to feel his hair, “You m-mean so much to me a-and I l-love you. Thank you, thank you.”

“Sweetheart, shh, it’s okay.” He coos with a huge grin, almost laughing with how precious you are to him right now, “I love you too, I’m not going anywhere.” 

The first orgasm you experience hits you like a sucker punch, his words of affirmation being the final straw, shaking like a leaf against his firm chest. Your mind goes blank as you let out a string of noises, feeling the way he feels inside you in such intense detail. Your eyes reopened as you whined at the pain still persisting, which Eddie was mere moments away from solving.

He never thought he’d be able to see you like this, not even as an omega, just in general. Your iris’ so wide, he could see his reflection down to the small lines next to his lips. It felt so natural to be inside you, to be protecting you and fulfilling your needs. The thought that Jason Carver almost made it here made his blood boil, thrusting sharply out of instinct, before focusing on you.

“Want you cum, Eddie, want your cum, alpha. Please, please, please! I’ll be good and do whatever you say, you can do whatever you want to me, just, please!” You cried out, sending Eddie to his final straw, his knot snapping loose with a potent moan. 

Sublime existed within you, he thought, his mind going completely blank as he pumped you full of his release. Your sobs had turned into subdued mewls as your body felt relaxed for the first time in days, clutching to Eddie with your face in his neck.

Groaning like an old man, he managed to roll onto his back with you still attached and startled by the movement. “It’s okay, just get comfortable, sweetheart.” He murmured, yanking your blue quilted blanket over the both of you despite the sweat, already expecting your come down to be reasonably harsh.

To say Eddie wasn’t the best student was valid, but he did pay attention in health class, learning the dynamics of alphas, omegas, and betas. There was something so intriguing about it to him, thinking it was intricate enough to be a part of Dungeons and Dragons, when a brave warrior saves a helpless civilian. 

Even back in the freezing classroom, he felt his heart clench at the explanation of omegas while some tried to joke about it and laugh. Describing the genuine distraught they endure if they’re without a caretaker, a toy being a last resort because of how much emotional support they would need afterwards. 

Alpha’s could get away with going solo, a bit pent up and lonely, but nothing like omega’s who became practically helpless. For an auxiliary learning experience, they played a video of a female omega in heat for the room for pre-presenting 18 year old boys. There wasn’t any sex, but it was how emotional she became after just a few minutes, only finding peace when a man came in and picked her up, her alpha. They played one of an alpha, but the pretense didn’t last nearly as long as he could smell out his omega in the room from the start.

The worry that you had been in here for two days plagued him as you took deep breaths on his chest, his knot gradually diminishing. He squeezed you tighter unintentionally, angry that he didn’t know sooner, that he didn’t realize it or that no one told him. 

“Look at me.” He stated, a bit too sharp than intended, your obedience falling into place as your chin rested against his chest. Your cheeks were still wet, sniffling as the aftermath endured, looking with distressed eyes.

“Don’t wait to call me, okay? It doesn’t matter if you’re embarrassed. You could’ve hurt yourself.” He exaggerated, regretting his tone as soon as your lip began to wobble, “Hey, sweetheart, hey. It’s okay, I’m not mad, I just don’t want you to be in pain, okay?”

You nodded as he rearranged you both, his length slipping out, much to your dismay. But the need to nest festered within seconds as he went to go get you both drinks and snacks, grabbing his shirt and flannel. Even his jeans joined the pile as it surrounded you, nuzzling into the cotton of his top, toes flexing in delight. 

He entered with some water, granola bars and bananas, somehow remembering they were a positive supplement for after a heat even though he forgets his own house number sometimes. Chuckling at the sight, he sat against the headboard as you shuffled into his side, curling up. Holding the cup to your lips, he swiped the spare stream that dripped down your tongue before drinking some himself.

Handing you a piece of the fruit, he opened his snack, but kept his attention on you as you looked downward. His fingers found the loose strands of hair by your ear, stroking them rhythmically as you finished and handed him the peel. You both sat contently as the wrapper and peel were thrown into the bin, but he could feel the slump of your frame, assuming you hadn’t got much rest the past few days. 

“Go to sleep, omega, I’ll be here. You’re safe.” He assured, scooting farther down so you were both lying on your backs, wrapping his arms around you. 

The sleep was like no other before, instantly submerged into tranquility of varying levels, Eddie being exhausted and waiting till you were out to fall. While you slept, your body still buzzed with nerves, still coming to terms with the new elements surfacing. 

Stirring awake in the dark room, you rubbed your eyes and smelled the pheromones exuding from Eddie’s sleeping body that you could now process. The discomfort between your legs surged with wetness, worried you would wake him and he would be displeased at how early it was. The red clock blinked at 5:43am, the sun wasn’t even beginning to show.

Mistakenly peering down at his boxers, your mouth watered at his bulge, feeling an encompassing need to see it. You wanted to press kisses all over him, around the coarse hairs below his belly and sucking on his tip to taste his arousal.

Eddie woke up to quiet fussing, feeling you twist against his chest and look up at him, shocked to see his eyes opened. He could see the guilt right on your face, to which he silently shook his head with a smile, stroking your head. 

“Alpha, ‘m sorry, I need your c-cock, please.” You begged, wiggling down to his waistband, pulling out his half hardened length, “S-so big.”

He knew he only had a few minutes before you wouldn’t be able to have him in your mouth anymore, becoming too thick for your throat, so he let you indulge in this. You wanted this, he could see the drool dripping down his shaft as you sucked him, but he also knew this wasn’t going to do anything for you emotionally.

“My pretty, sweet, omega.” His voice coaxed in a morning gruff, “Can have this for just a minute, okay? Did so good yesterday, so proud of you.” 

He saw your eyes haze over, eyelids drooping as you hummed around him, his hips resisting the instinct to snap forward. Your repeated suckle made him thicker, unbeknownst to you as the action only soothed you, ignoring the growing pain between your legs.

His hand intertwined with yours as he looked out the slit of the curtains of the window, the orange rays of the sun just cresting the Earth. Something about waking up before sunrise felt forbidden, like the world wasn’t awake yet, that this was stolen time. Time where only you and him existed.

The ache of his knot began to form as he reached down to pull you up, only to hear a yelp. He flinched, looking down to see your wide eyes with his dick between your lips. He forced his growl down to not give you mixed messages, only raising his brows and curling his finger up to him. 

When you failed to do so, he lifted you despite your begs, laying you down and hovering over. He hushed you, feeling himself throb against your pretty thighs, ones he definitely wanted to explore more when you weren’t as sensitive. If he were to love on them now, he thinks it’d feel more cruel to you than anything.

You wiggled beneath him, faint pleads escaping your lips as his scent covered you, not being able to comprehend all the feelings that swarmed you. Eddie managed to throw off his boxers, caging you in beneath him as his necklace trickled on your sternum. One of his arms went downward, grabbing the base of himself and giving a few tugs.

“I know what you need, omega.” He gritted, his tip sliding between your silk-like folds with ease, making him shudder. Somehow this managed to calm you down slightly, knowing he knew what to do, even just based on pure instincts.

Slotting inside you, he shut his eyes and moaned, your wetness helping to aid the size of himself. Your moans may have been considered singing if anyone heard the way they flowed together and he wondered if it just sounded that way as your alpha. 

“Alpha, please, need your knot. Need so many.” You begged, breaths shallow as your body began to shake, already succumbing to your first orgasm. He couldn’t help, but chuckle at you, nuzzled into the crevice of your neck as he kissed the skin softly.

“My sensitive girl.” He mused, pressing himself further to rub at your clit, making you jolt. His speed increased as he felt himself growing impatient. He could last longer than this, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to try and prolong it, especially when it helped make you feel safe.

“I’ve got a rule, omega,” Eddie began, your eyes wide like saucers as you looked up, “You have to come twice every time I knot, okay?”

Your petulant whine sounded through the room before he hushed you with his own lips, his hand going between your legs to rub at the bud of nerves. Your legs shook profusely against his hips, not expecting the added pleasure that left you speechless. 

“Come with me, baby. Gonna fill you up, give you my knot.” He growled, gripping onto the headboard to thrust faster than before, “Fuck, need to fill you up. My omega.” He watched as your tits bounced in rhythm, your orgasm sneaking up on you.

His knot shot into you with velocity, covering your walls completely as you mewled, coming for a second time as your back arched. Eddie thought he almost dented the metal headboard, his hands a mix of red and white as he let go, twitching from the intensity his body was encountering.

Peering down, he saw your eyes shut, mouth opened as you caught your breath with just the tip of your tongue poking out down the middle. He smiled, pushing the hair from your face and kissing you. His knot was still throbbing as it deposited completely within you, hoping he’d be able to keep doing this. Now more prepared for when he rolled onto his back, you just adjusted to be comfortable, hoping he wouldn’t get soft too fast and you could continue this close.

The first presentation was usually a false heat, it has all the same symptoms, but there is little chance of pregnancy. It was one of the reasons he wasn’t too paranoid about giving you his knot, since that is what sedates omegas, but he didn’t want to be too risky. His heart bursted as you settled in his arms, wondering what would happen after your heat was over, trying to assure himself you wanted him. You whined for him and he wasn’t going to let that go.

The next few days consisted of waking up, having sex, Eddie cooking for you, and naps. It was like a slice of heaven in four walls, embracing the affection you were both giving each other. 

He had gone back home once to grab clothes, cigarettes, and some notebooks to work on his campaign and music. He had given Wayne a call the first day, saying he was out for the night, but would be back home soon. He hung up before he could hear the response, but knew he’d have to face his uncle eventually. They were close, practically father and son, but they weren’t open in that nature.

He pulled up to the trailer, seeing the familiar truck in the dirt in front, taking a deep breath before stepping on the damp ground. Opening the door gently, he spotted his uncle asleep on the recliner as the news played softly on the TV. Going straight for his bedroom, he shoved as much as he could in his duffle bag.

Truthfully, he was missing you more than he wanted to admit. It was only minutes, yet, he felt a pain in his chest that you were alone. He did wait for you to fall asleep as you tried to act okay with him departing for an hour, untangling your arms and legs from one another. 

How he managed to quickly pack his bag with minimal noise was a mystery, but he was grateful, hoping to utilize whatever freetime he had with writing or planning. He even brought some extra shirts for your nest as those were your favorite and his jeans kept rubbing weirdly against your cheeks. Racing to the front door, he had almost escaped as his grasp reached the handle.

“Where were you at and why aren’t you in school, boy?” Wayne grumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes as he laid back. Something about his demeanor could make him seem laid back, but he meant business when it came to Eddie’s future and he didn’t want to add another senior year.

“It’s excused.” Eddie responded cooly, mentioning quickly that he stayed at your home, leaning against the door and rocking on his heels. His nonchalant attitude made the older Munson open his eyes, looking with a squint as he adjusted to the light and to whatever game he thought his nephew was playing at.

Awaiting the explanation, Eddie imagined the ground swallowing him whole, teleporting him back to your cute bedroom with frills and stuffed animals. But no, he was standing in front of his uncle, who was in no mood for shenanigans after an exhausting shift. 

“She presented. The school excuses both, uh, parties.” Eddie mumbled, the rubber of his shoes touching as he looked down at them, not seeing the way the man in front of him straightened up. 

Humming in response, Wayne sat in thought as the boy refused to make eye contact, unsure as to what his reaction would be. How does one react to something like this?

“Takin’ care of her? She’s a sweet girl, always liked her.” Wayne mused, making their eyes finally meet. While the question could’ve been interpreted in a more vulgar way, he knew what he meant. Meant that he was actually taking care of you as an alpha should, not just to get laid.

“She is and yeah. Feeling better now, didn’t get help till two days after. She asked for me.” He trails his words with pink cheeks, kicking himself for saying too much, but Wayne gives a small chuckle. Not at what he said, but at how much Eddie’s demeanor reminded him of when he was young.

“Alright, alright. Standin’ here looking like a prisoner, go.” He laughed, not really needing any other information as Eddie left within a blink. 

The drive back to your house was tortuous, practically smelling you on his clothes in a way that became addicting. With little shame, he inhaled in his shirt deeply while at a red light, the car behind him eventually honking to send him forward.

It was crazy to him that yesterday morning felt so long ago now, that the conversation with Nancy and Robin wasn’t even 24 hours ago. He knows news is never expected fully, but this took him by surprise and made him feel less guilty about getting off to the thought of you during his rut. 

He wondered if that’s why you popped in his head no matter how many times he tried to distract himself, your pretty face dewy as he fucked into you at a, seemingly, unforgiving pace. His hands all over your body and you reacted instinctively to them before he filled you to the brim with his knot.

The thoughts ran through his brain until he pulled in your driveway, grabbing his bag and the spare set of keys that used to reside behind the large flower pot. The muffled sounds of music could be heard from your boombox as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes. Jumping over steps until slipping on the edge, he caught himself by the rail, puffing with annoyance.

A whine rang through his ear like church bells, adding to the ache between his legs that he hadn’t noticed before. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you immediately lit up at his presence, holding open your arms. Plopping down the bag, he dramatically raced towards you while crouching and swooped you into his arms with a laugh.

Litters of kisses were left on both sets of skin, feeling an overcast of warmth as you returned to each other. He only pulled away to drag his bag closer, rummaging through it before lifting up an old Hawkins crewneck sweater, slipping it on you over your large shirt. You practically melted at the way his scent took you, shrinking your head, arms and legs until you were in a tight ball within it. 

“Glad you like it, baby.” He chuckled, kissing the patch of your hair that peeked through as he unloaded some of his clothes. It was almost comical how little articles he brought, knowing that most of their days would not involve clothing at all or would only be on long enough to be taken off. 

Putting it in a neat pile by your dresser, he dug in his bag to see the condoms made specifically for alpha’s, dreading the fact he would need to wear them soon. He decided to keep it hidden, not wanting to upset you when you weren’t using them yet. He could hear the soft snoring from the tucked away ball on its side, biting back a large grin.

Shimmying off his clothing besides his royal blue briefs, he molded himself around your frame and lifted the blankets over top. He felt your arms wiggling before a practically inaudible whimper as it dawned on him that you couldn’t feel the arm holes in your slumber.

“Goofball.” He mutters to himself, unable to help the smile and pink cheeks as he uncurls you to bring to his chest. Your lips puckered briefly against his peck, the subconscious kiss making him want to squeeze you in joy. He liked existing inside these four walls with you.

taglist plus friends :) : @steeldaisies @meaganjm @masterofmunson @downbythebay4 @femalefilmaker @wiltedwonderland @yourthebrokengirl @jessyballet @iheartyouyou @gloryekaterina @missscarlettangel @variety-fangirl @wigglywoos59 @thegirlblogstuff @lovelyladymayyyy @strawwberrry @ktjmac @dovesnrosesnreblogs @fknemily @spn-obession  @imagine-all-the-imagines @fangirl-hoe @deementedforeverr @hellfire-in-hawkins @indouloureux @andvys @lilacletter @prettyboyeddiemunson

#eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fic #elora writes #eddie munson gif #wayne munson #stranger things 4 #st fanfic #rockstar eddie munson #corroded coffin #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson lives #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader #a/b/o smut #stranger things aob

[opudraws]

This is a tiny comic strip based on my prediction on how Stranger things season 5 might turn out (SPOILERS AHEAD OFC)!

Ever since I came to learn that Will probably would have a major role in the next season, my head has been filled with so many theories and concepts and I just couldn’t help but draw them out lol I absolutely adore Will Byers.

I personally think the Mind flayer has a mind of its own and is a separate being from Vecna. Vecna created it as one of his soldiers to fight for him and bring him preys- is what I think but I could be dead wrong lol. And just like how it controlled Will in the past, what if Will's hidden power allows him to control the mind flayer in reverse? That, if, Will has any power in the first place of course. These are my mere imaginations hehe let me know what ya'll think! 🦋

#will byers #will byers fanart #stranger things #st au #eleven #jane hopper #vecna/henry/one #vecna #st fanfic #st analysis #st art #my art #fanart #digital illustration #byler

[slavicviking]

Dipping my toes in the ‘oblivious Eddie has no functioning gaydar which results in mild miscommunication’ genre of the Steddie experience, hope you enjoy!

Ao3 extended version

“My, my, are my eyes deceiving me? Steve Harrington himself has graced these sinful halls?”

Instead of a sneer Eddie’s been expecting, Steve’s face lights up with a smile. He lifts his hand to wave at him with much more enthusiasm than expected. Which is… weird since they have maybe talked once when the guy picked up Eddie’s new freshmen from Hellfire. Well, almost as weird as meeting a Harington in a gay bar itself. 

“Munson, hi!”

A little dumb-founded, Eddie waves back weakly, his eyes catching the sight of Robin Buckley at the bar behind them. Ah, so there’s the reason Harrington’s here.

“You’re here as an ally, I presume.”

“Uhm, yeah I guess so?” Steve pouts, confused, before smiling again. “You too, then?”

“Sure, let’s say that.”

“Hey, you should sit with us,” Harrington grins as if that’s actually a good idea. Before Eddie manages to think of an excuse, he’s being dragged towards Buckley by the sleeve. “Come on.”

“Munson,” Robin nods at him in greeting, something akin to a mischievous smirk on her face. Why, he doesn’t begin to understand. 

“You look good, by the way,” a deep voice whispers into his ear as they set off towards the tables and Eddie has to do everything for his soul not to leave his body. Steve… is being way friendlier than expected. But that’s what it is, he has to remind himself before it gets too dangerous, just guys being dudes.

The ‘us’ in question turns out to be more than just the bizarre Harrington-and-Buckley duo. There’s Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers and some tall guy with the best hair he’s seen, not counting Harrington of course, bless his hair-sprayed soul. They don’t seem all that surprised he’s here at all which - fair enough, but also that he’s here at this table and that he doesn’t know how to explain. Nancy Wheeler, though, ever the enigma keeps shooting him loaded glances. He’s pretty sure she sniffed out his embarrassing crush on, ugh, Steve Harrington and she’s- Jealous maybe? Probably? As if there is a universe where he, Eddie Munson, poses a threat to someone like Nancy fucking Wheeler. 

Steve sits himself closest to Eddie, maybe because he’s feeling guilty - as he should be - about throwing him into a table full of basically-strangers or maybe for a different, Harrington-unexplainable reason. The point is, he’s close, Eddie can smell his aftershave and cigarettes and it’s the best and worst thing that’s happened to him. 

He keeps talking, too, asking Eddie questions about DnD (and isn’t that a head-scratcher in itself) and what conditioner he’s using because he really likes his hair (as if Steve wasn’t the embodiment of every shampoo commercial ever made). The gin-and-tonic Eddie’s been sipping must’ve been stronger than he thought because he swears he hears Steve saying something like ‘I don’t know, I think you’re really pretty’ at one point. 

Eddie is starting to wonder if Harrington, perhaps, has been replaced with a pod person.

There’s a few more attempts at small talk from Steve but Eddie’s too confused and trying so hard to not be hopeful because a second edition of a pathetic crush on a straight dude (Steve, his mind supplies helpfully) is going to be too painful. Harrington seems kind of down afterwards, sliding off his chair and towards the bar which leaves Eddie with an infamous Buckley glare. Followed by an aggravating assault to his shin. 

“Ow, Jesus, what the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Robin is quick to retort. “What’s your problem? I thought you had a crush on him! It’s frankly kind of fucking obvious.”

Okay, whoa, rude. 

“I don’t,” Eddie sneers back but falters when she levels him with a blank stare. “Fine, I do. Whatever. Way to kick a man when he’s down.”

“Dingus, he’s been all over you for the last hour. He’s been flirting like crazy and you, for some reason, keep shooting him down, what the hell?”

“But-” But he’s straight. Right? He turns to see Steve at the bar and - oh, there’s some guy with curly hair touching Steve’s arm and Steve’s smiling and blushing and- “What?”

That won’t do.

“Go get your man,” Robin says, practically shoving him off his stool to emphasize her point. Eddie scrambles from the floor, ignores the intense looks from the rest of the table and marches towards the bar.

“I’m coming, Stevie.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #st fanfic #ficlet #my writing

[mixsethaddams]

You expect me to believe that Eddie Munson, freak of Hawkins High, heard that King Steve himself was selling ice cream in a dumb little sailor costume, and didn’t go to see for himself? Steve’s fall from grace would have been the only news worth knowing for the other students, especially the ones that were without doubt in the firing line of the rich kids and jocks.

But if Eddie turned up at Scoops Ahoy one day with the full intention of making fun of him, only to turn around at the door as soon as he caught sight of the shorts because god damn, then thats his own business.

#steddie #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #st fanfic #steve x eddie #headcanon #steve stranger things #steve and eddie #stranger things #steddie fic #scoops ahoy #babygirl steve harrington #seth writes

[queer-coded-camaro-driver]

Info About the 80's As Provided By My Dad, Who Graduated High School in 1987:

No boxers, no briefs, ONLY tighty-whiteys.

The Satanic Panic was something discussed primarily by adults to try and sway more voters toward Reagan.

EVERYONE had their ears pierced. Men, women, everyone. My Dad still wears his little diamond stud sometimes.

Crop tops and tube socks were a popular combo for high school and college guys.

Long hair was masculine and having decent hygiene was a big deal.

You took a girl to the roller rink on the first date to show off and then to the drive-in on the second date if she wanted to make out.

Here are some good metal bands to include in your fics: Judas Priest, Queensryche, Slayer, Ozzy, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Saxon, Scorpions, Ratt, Quiet Riot, Joan Jett, Pat Benetar, and Alice Cooper.

Vinyl cost between $1 and $4 on average.

Minimum wage was around $3.50.

Jorts for men. Good fuckin' lord the cutoff jorts for men...

The stoners knew everyone and everything.

If you're writing a fic or making art and have any questions for Mark about your Historical Accuracy, please feel free to send me an ask and I'll text him.

He thinks this is fun.

#stranger things #netflix stranger things #the 80's #80's aesthetic #back to the 80's #rock and roll #metal music #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #st fanfic #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #historical accuracy #stranger things shitpost #stranger things meme

[mrsbrookemunson]

I've seen a few stories about the reader being Eddie's secret admirer but what about the other way around? Eddie is your secret admirer and leaves you little notes in your locker. He praises you and encourages you-- maybe a little pick-me-up when you're feeling down. Occasionally he'll slip small gifts into your backpack. Anything to see you smile :)

I love this idea. This is going to be a little self-indulgent, not gonna lie.

Warnings: TOOTH. ROTTING. FLUFF. a lil angst, insecure reader, no use of pronouns, no use of 'y/n', Eddie's a little bit of an idiot, very low-key stalker!Eddie, Robin, mentions of unrequited feelings (it's rumored he likes Chrissy), not proofread so most likely grammar and spelling errors (sorry)

Word Count: 3923

Eddie Munson was absolutely enamored by you. He didn't quite know what it was that drew him to you. You weren't part of the popular crowd, you only had your small group of friends, and you always seemed to be so... self-conscious - or so he noticed.

Maybe that was where he got the idea in the first place.

He noticed you were especially quiet one day. Head down, headphones over your ears as you wrote seamlessly in your journal. He wondered what you were writing about, what you were listening to, and why you had a small frown etched onto your face.

Had someone said something to you?

You suddenly raised your hand.

His head snapped forward.

Had you caught him staring? Were you going to say something? Humiliate him? He pictured a thousand ways this could go.

"May I go to the restroom, please?" you asked, timidly.

But, that wasn't one of them.

"Quickly please..." the teacher granted.

You got up and walked out of the classroom. Eddie glanced over at your journal, a pen in between the pages, bookmarking where you left off. He bit his lip, concentrating on something before a lightbulb lit up in his mind. He glimpsed at the teacher than at the door before ripping a small piece of paper out of his notebook. His tongue ever-so-slightly poked out as he scribbled down something in a hurry before leaning over to slip it in between the pages of your journal.

The bell rang right when you stepped back into the classroom, giving Eddie the perfect opportunity to leave undetected. He smoothly slipped passed you, your shoulders brushing each other's. It sent sparks up through his body. The feeling lingered and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

He wanted to watch your reaction, but that would risk giving him away. He forced himself away, already planning his next plan of action.

You on the other hand were in shock.

Good job on the test. I saw you got an A. You're too smart for the rest of this school... and too pretty. - Love, your secret admirer <3

Your eyebrows furrowed a little. Neither one of this person's statements were necessarily true. There were people way prettier than you here, not to mention smarter. But, nonetheless it was nice to hear. It brought a smile to your face, but it slowly fell.

Surely, this is a joke.

You were surprised to say the least the next morning when you opened your locker and a note fluttered down, out and onto the floor. You leaned down to pick it up and carefully looked around whilst standing upright. You unfolded the piece of paper.

Did I mention you were pretty in my last note? I did't mean to sound creepy - not to say you aren't pretty because you are very pretty, I could stare at you all day. Don't read that. - Love, your secret, not creepy, admirer :)

You giggled at the slight awkwardness the writing held. It was almost endearing. Key word: Almost. You still couldn't help but think this was some kind of joke.

"What's that?" Robin asked, pointing to the note in your hand.

"Wha-oh nothing!" You stuck it in your pocket.

"Oooo, does someone have a secret admirer?" she teased

"What?! No, that's-that's silly," you denied "It was just trash, something from an old assignment."

"Uh huh, sure."

"Robin!" you scolded, annoyed. "I'm being serious."

She put her hands up in surrender. "Whatever. You. Say."

You rolled your eyes, as the two of you began to walk side-by-side to your first period.

"But, if it is a secret admirer, who do you think it is? Who do you want it to be?"

"Look." You stopped walking, cuing Robin to also stop. "Even if it is something, it's probably a joke. One of the jocks playing some cruel prank on me." You glanced behind you and saw none other than Eddie Munson standing there staring at you. You smiled when you met his eyes.

His eyes widened a slight blush creeping up onto his cheeks, as he rushed off.

Robin caught the interaction. "What was that all about?" she asked, excitedly.

"Nothing!"

"What if it's him?"

"Who? Eddie?"

"Yes, Eddie!"

You shook your head. "No. That can't be possible, wasn't it rumored he liked Chrissy a couple of months ago?" You started to walk again.

"Firstly, that was a couple of months ago, and secondly, it was 'rumored'. It was never confirmed."

"Doesn't sound unreasonable to me," you said, not trying to sound too upset. "Guys like Eddie, don't like girls like me."

"You want it to be him, don't you?"

"Forget it, it's not important. What is important is the Econ test."

Robin groaned loudly, reluctantly stepping into the classroom. You turned back to where Eddie was previously standing and with a loud sigh you entered the classroom.

Eddie's eyes were glued to you in the cafeteria. You were cheerfully talking to Robin about something and his heart couldn't help but flutter at the way your eyes lit up. What he'd give to be able to talk with you, and listen to that sweet voice of yours for hours.

He watched, intently, as your eyes suddenly caught your reflection on something. He saw the way you slumped before attempting to sit up more. The grimace on your face growing more evident by the second.

Why the Hell were you looking at the love of his life that way?

He ripped out a piece of paper and wrote something down. Standing up, he stormed out of the cafeteria and to your locker where he slipped the note in. He scanned his surroundings and saw no one around to ruin the secret before it had really even started. Whistling, as he goes to his locker. He opened it when a note fell from it. He picked it up and read it.

Meet me in the woods at 12:15 tomorrow. Bring whatever you have. - C.C.

C.C.? His eyes widened in realization.

Chrissy Cunningham wants to do a drug deal?

You smiled, softly, when you saw your secret admirer had left you yet another note.

No matter what you think, you look absolutely beautiful today - and everyday. I like you in blue. - Love, your secret admirer <3

You felt as though you were in a daze. You looked down at your blue sweater which - until now - you felt like a blimp in. Guess, whoever your secret admirer is thought otherwise. You bite your lip and tucked the note in between the pages of your journal where you'd keep - like all the rest of them - it there for safe keeping.

"Anymore love letters?" Robin asked, scaring you.

"Don't do that!" You put a hand over your heart as if it'd help slow it down from its rapid pace. "Yeah, if you consider them love letters."

"Do you want me to try to help you figure them out?"

"If you say-"

"I'll start. Eddie."

"Robin!" You slam your locker and walk away. "It's not him."

"Talk to him, be friendly, see what happens-hey, I might be right!"

"That would be the first."

"Hey!" She grabbed your shoulder to stop you. "I know it's really hard to be brave because you're scared of what the outcome could be, but think about it-if this person is being genuine, you might have something really special here."

You sigh. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Robin grins, widely. "Now, start with Eddie."

You roll your eyes. "Fine, but only to get you off my back, and cross him off the list."

It can't be him, it's impossible.

You sat down at your usual seat, now being awkwardly aware it's next to Eddie's seat. You pull out your journal, smiling when you see the note previous notes you've received. You turn back to your backpack to grab your pen but are surprised to see that there is a new set of pens next to your pencil bag. You pull it out and observe it. They were nice, really nice. One in blue, pink, red, black, orange, green, and purple. A note attached to them.

Thought you might like these since you write so much. I noticed you color code things sometimes so I bought you a couple of different colors to give you some options. Hope you like them - Love, your secret - now broke - admirer.

You laugh, pleasantly surprised. You remembered leaving your backpack on a chair in the cafeteria that morning while you used the bathroom. You tend to forget to go at home due oversleeping, leading to the frantic rush of trying to get ready in time.

Eddie perked up hearing the sound of your laughter beside him making him look over. His breath hitched in his throat - you liked his note, you liked him present, you were liking him. He cleared his throat. "What's that you got?"

You froze for a moment. "Huh?" You looked at Eddie.

He pointed toward the note. "Got a secret admirer or something?"

You bit back a smile. "Something like that." You couldn't hide your giddiness.

Eddie found it absolutely adorable. "Any ideas of who it is?"

"Nope, not a clue." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Wouldn't be you, would it?"

Eddie nearly choked, but he somehow held his composure. "Sorry, sweetheart, but it is not."

You shrugged, not even noticing the slip of the pet name in his answer. "I figured."

He gave you a confused expression. "You-you figured?"

"Well, yeah, everyone knows you-" you leaned closer toward him. "You like Chrissy," you whispered.

He gaped at you. "Chrissy?"

"Yeah."

"Where on Earth did you hear that?"

"People were talking about it a couple of months ago. Don't tell me it's not true."

His posture straightened. "What if I told you it wasn't?"

You weakly smiled. "I'd call you a liar," you replied, softly. Paying attention to the teacher as she started the class.

It made it so you didn't catch the way Eddie sunk further into his seat.

What had he done?

That was his chance to tell you how he felt, and he blew it.

Chrissy Cunningham?

Now, all he thought about for the rest of class was the fact that he was having a drug deal with his so-called 'crush' tomorrow in the woods.

Wasn't it obvious he was in love with you?

The answer is no, no it wasn't because if it was maybe you would've already pulled the plug and ask him out, but you hadn't and you wouldn't especially not after his lack of denial for liking Chrissy Cunningham.

Robin was wrong.

"You were wrong," you said to Robin, passing by her quickly in the hallway.

It was the next day, the bell for the lunch period had rung just a few seconds ago and you were briefly explaining your avoidance to your best friend.

"But, I'm never wrong!" she claimed in a shout over the crowd. "He's lying!"

You rolled your eyes, leaving the hustle and bustle of students going to the cafeteria. You needed to be alone. Alone in your thoughts, where it's just you and your journal... and maybe a few tears.

Because though Robin may have been wrong about it being Eddie, she wasn't wrong about you wanting it to be Eddie. You had gotten a note from your secret admirer yesterday before school ended saying,

I know you don't know who I am, but I need you to know I like you... a lot. And I know we don't talk that much, but I want to, because you are so amazing and why wouldn't I want to be with you? Who wouldn't want to be with you? Everyday I question myself on why I haven't bit the bullet yet and asked you out and it's because I'm afraid. Of how you'd react, of how others would react, and I don't want to risk having you hate me. Which I doubt you would anyways because you're you, the nicest person I've ever spoken to. So, please, give me time to work up the courage, don't give up on me, I don't think I could take it. I'm done now, maybe this scared you off - probably scared you off... um... bye- your secret admirer.

You thought back to how your heart squeezed as you read every word. You wished you knew who it was, so you could put their mind at peace. So, you could put your mind at peace.

You found yourself in the woods, setting your stuff down on the wooden table that was placed in the most secluded part of the area. Hardly no one goes out there. It was a place you could allow yourself to pace around and think things through.

Who is it?

That was the number one question. You attempted to conjure a mental list of possible candidates but you always drew a blank every time you tried.

Who would ever like-

You screamed as your back collided into something behind you. You spun around.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Eddie chuckled, holding out a hand.

"Eddie? Wh-what are you doing out here?"

"Confidential," he said, analyzing your overall physical presence. "You okay?" he asked.

"Define 'okay'." You dryly laugh, sitting down at the table.

He frowned and sat across from you, setting his metal lunchbox next to your stuff. "You want to tell me about it? Or do I have to guess?"

You rest your forearms on the table. "Do you ever feel like-like you don't fit in?"

He looked taken aback. "On-like-a daily basis," he answered, a wide smile taking over his face, directed toward you. "You forget you're talking to 'the freak', sweetheart."

You groaned softly.

That made his smile falter. "Why d'you ask?"

You shrugged, suddenly your hands become fascinating as you stared at them fidgeting. "Guess I haven't been feeling-" You cleared your throat, "-great about myself lately, that's all?"

He propped himself up slightly on the table. "Something happen?"

"More like someone." You glanced up at him to gauge at his expression. It held concern. You carelessly threw your hands up. "You know that admirer I spoke about the other day?"

He nodded, slowly. "Yeah."

"I've been wracking my mind trying to figure out who it is, and I just... can't. Sometimes I believe I'm a little unlovable at times."

"What?!" he blurted. "Sweetheart, that's not true, you are so lovable!"

You grew very confused by his sudden outburst, but he didn't seem to catch on as he continued.

He stood up and walked over to your side of the table to sit next to you. To have your full attention. "You are smart, funny, talented and so, so beautiful." Your heart skipped a beat. "God, who wouldn't want to be with you?"

Your eyes shot up to meet his. "What did you say?"

"Huh?" He tilted his head. "You-you didn't hear any of that?"

"No-yes! I mean what did you say at the end?"

"Who wouldn't want to be with you?" he repeated unsure.

Why wouldn't I want to be with you? Who wouldn't want to be with you? You recalled from the note.

"Eddie?" you called out in the same tone as his previous one.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to ask you this one last time, and I want you to tell me the truth." You took in a deep breath. "Are you the person who has been writing to me?"

He suddenly turned pale. His eyes nervously flickered away from yours. "Ummm..." He couldn't seem to form any words. "Maybe-well-I-um..."

You shifted a little closer to him.

His eyes moved back to focus on you and how close you've gotten. "Hi," he whispered, taking in every single inch of your face. Every flaw and imperfection.

So goddamn beautiful.

He exhaled shakily. It fanned your face causing your eyes to flutter shut. Both of you gravitating toward each other unknowingly. Your noses barely brushed each others when another voice broke the silence.

"Am I interrupting something?"

You abruptly moved away from Eddie and met the eyes of none other than Chrissy Cunningham. You gaze averted to Eddie who looked rather frantic and disheveled.

"Confidential," he said.

Oh.

"Oh," you said aloud. "No-I-um-I was just leaving." You rapidly gathered your stuff.

Eddie watched helplessly, instinctively reaching out to grab you, to stop you, but you dodged it. He got up to try again, this time he was able to catch your hand, gently grasping it. He leaned toward you. "It's just a drug deal, I swear," he said, lowly. "You have to believe me." His eyes pleaded.

You dared a glimpse at Chrissy. She looked uncomfortable as she scanned her surroundings as if anyone could be watching. At that moment it didn't seem like a lie, but at the same time your mind brought you back to the rumor, and the fact that you didn't know if that was a lie or not.

You formed your lips into a tight-line. "I'll see you around, Eddie," you bit back before pulling away and storming off.

Eddie debated on running after you, but instead he took in a sharp breath before shooting a fake smile at Chrissy. "So... let's get started, shall we?"

Your foot tapped against the tiled floors. Peering straight in front of you, not really paying attention to the lesson. How could you when you felt Eddie's eyes on you the entire time next to you? From your peripheral vision you saw Eddie writing something down on a sheet of paper. He slid his foot over to nudge yours, trying to get your attention to take the paper out of his hands.

The devil won the argument in this case as you carefully grabbed it and set it down on your desk.

Can we talk, please?

After reading it, you grabbed your pen and wrote back.

What is there to talk about?

You handed him back the sheet of paper without looking at him. You heard him sigh loudly along with a scribble of something. He pushed the paper back into your hands.

I need you to know the full story. Five minutes? That's all I'm asking for.

You thought through it. You clicked your pen twice then wrote a response.

Fine.

He let out a breath of relief.

Thank you. Meet me by my van at 4pm.

Your eyebrow quirked up.

Are you planning on kidnapping me?

If that's what it takes to get you to listen to me Does 4pm work for you?

I read that. And yes, that works for me.

Eddie's hope grew a little at your words. He prayed - to whichever god was out there, ones in which he didn't believe in - that he didn't ruin what hasn't even had the chance to begun.

'Cause God, he's in love with you.

You stood by his van with your arms crossed. The front of your shoe kicking a nearby pebble. Eddie rushed over to you.

"You're late," you said.

He looked down at his watch. 4:10, he read. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Being late or....?"

"Everything," he paused. "You know when you told me that thing about me liking Chrissy I knew I messed up."

You shifted your weight to one side. "How so?"

"Because, I thought it was so obvious how I felt for you. I thought people saw it from miles away, but I guess showing my feelings is just another thing I fail at doing in my life."

You frowned.

He continued, "I hope you know now that I've always liked you." He bit his lip. "Man, I think I liked you before I even knew I liked you." He chuckled. "I was scared though, even if you said you felt the same I was scared you'd back away once you realized what a freak I am. I'm not someone who can give you everything you've wanted... but I would try."

You smiled a little. "Eddie, I don't like you because I thought you could give me the world, I like you because-as corny as this sounds-you are my world. I never believed in the how soulmates thing, but ever since I met you, it was always you. And I have to admit I wanted you to be my admirer so bad, but my life-it never seems to go easy on me, so the first thing I thought was that it was a joke, and then when it seemed to be becoming more real and Robin of all people was telling me how she thought it was you... I didn't want to give into the hope. Then you told me it wasn't you, and I didn't have any proof to convince me otherwise."

"I'm your world?" he asked, breathless.

"That's all you got from that?" you joked.

He shook his head. "No, but it definitely was the part that lingered the longest."

"Eddie, I-"

"I meant every word I wrote, and it wasn't even half the things I've wanted to say to you for so long. Because there's so much I want to tell you, and we have so much to make up for, but that's only if you want me."

You opened your mouth then closed it. Finally you spoke, "Where do we start?"

He broke out into a large smile. "You mean it?"

"Yeah," you reply, mimicking his smile.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments.

"You can kiss me now, if you want," you said.

"Oh, thank fuck," he breathed.

He leaned in, cupping your jaw to bring you lips to meet his. You breathed him in immediately, the smell of cigarettes, cologne, and a hint of mint clogging your nose. Delightfully suffocating you in his warmth. You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer as the two of your fell in a fast rhythm, making up for at least some of the lost time, then slow and steady to savor the moment as this was something neither one of them every wanted to forget. Ever.

A note fluttered out of your locker.

"Another one?" Robin groaned.

You picked it up with a lovesick smile plastered onto your face. "Don't sound so annoyed Robin, you should be pleased."

"Just because I'm always right, doesn't mean I like to be always right."

"You're right. You love to be always right," you quip back, unfolding the piece of paper.

Morning sweetheart, just wanted to say I love you and I can't wait for our date tonight. - Love, Eddie.

"Why can't he just tell you that when he see's you at school today?" Robin asked.

You dreamily sigh. "He wanted to keep the memory of how we got together alive, so we decided to continue writing each other notes. It doesn't matter what we say in them." You eyes met Eddie's figure a few feet away from you. "It's the thought that matters." With that last word to Robin, you run toward Eddie who immediately picks you up and spins you around.

"How are you doing today?" he asked.

"Good!" you chirped. "I got your note."

"Oh, did you? Have any thoughts about it? Responses?"

"A few..." You smiled, and pecked his cheek, making him blush profusely. "I love you too."

#eddie st4 #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie fluff #eddie angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson oneshot #st fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie munson x you

[blueywrites]

turtle dove and the crow, part one

A 1940s Farm AU, featuring bsf!neighbor!eddie x fem!reader

story tags: 18+ (minors dni). smut; true love; unexpected pregnancy; angst, angst, angst; parental issues; corporal punishment; scheming, plotting, and betrayal; hurt/comfort; period-typical stigma regarding unwed pregnancy; angst with a happy ending.

chapter tags: 18+. oral (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | interlude | part four | part five | epilogue | playlist

PART ONE: THE HOLE IN THE LEAVES (15.1k)

And the sweat will roll down our backs

And we’ll follow animal tracks

To a tree in the woods

And a hole in the leaves we’ll see

The bright baby eyes of a chickadee

Animal Tracks — Mountain Man

“Mama!” 

Your call flattens in the August heat, weighed down by thick, humid air and the drone of the cicadas chirping outside the open window over the sink. You cup your hands around your mouth to make sure she hears you; you don’t want her to accuse you of galavanting if she finds you gone. “I’m gonna take Guinnie out now!”

You drop your hands and wait for an answering call, scrambling to pick the broom up where you’d leaned it against the wallpaper as you hear the brisk shuffle-thump of her footsteps approaching the kitchen. She appears in the archway, hands on hips and eyebrow cocked.

“Y’finished sweepin’ yet?” she asks you, turning a discerning eye to the floorboards to search for any errant specs you may have missed.

“Yes, Mama,” you reply obediently, knowing better than to even think of sassing her. You know if you sass her, there’s no way you won’t end up confined to your room for the remainder of the day, less supper and having foiled your own plans before they’ve even begun. “I was just looking to take Guinevere out to the field with a blanket and my book now I’m finished with my chores for today.” 

Her discerning eye flicks from the spotless floor to you, and you resist fidgeting with your dress's cotton skirt under her sharp gaze, which lingers for a moment before she humphs. “Fine, then,” she says, and you’re about to beam before she continues as if returning to a subject you’d been discussing before. “And I mean it, missy. Y'arent to go off with Wayne's boy anymore, y'hear?" She shakes her head in preemptive consternation. "Off in the woods gettin’ up to God-knows-what. It ain't appropriate at your grown age.” The irrythmic tapping of her foot and the exaggerated hunch of her back as she leans toward you would be almost comical if it wasn’t for the injustice of the accusation.

You purse your lips but swallow your indignation when one of her brows goes skyward— a clear warning. “No, Mama,” you concede. “I’m just goin’ to read by myself, I swear it.” You widen your eyes hopefully. “Would it be all right if I fill a canteen with sweet tea to take with me? Please?”

Your mother straightens slowly, face twisted as if considering, and you nearly sag in relief as her hands leave her hips and she folds her arms beneath her ample bosom instead— a clear indicator that she’s easing now. “That’d be fine,” she says, and the snap is gone from her voice. You lean the broom carefully against the island counter and spin to quickly collect your tea from the icebox and the canteen from where it hangs near the screen door. 

As you sling the canteen over your shoulder along with your knapsack, you hear her mutter, “Speaking of, that boy desperately needs a haircut.” She squints at you. “Think y’could convince him to trim that mop? Wayne’s been tryin’ for years, and he only seems to listen to you.”

“Oh, no, Mama,” you say sweetly, hands clasped behind your back as you face her, edging in tiny steps back towards the door— that screen that stands between you and freedom. “I couldn’t possibly.” Blindly, your hand finds the handle, and she's still eyeing you as you turn it and slip out. 

Unimpressed, she humphs, but the screen door is already snapping closed behind you.

“Be back before sundown!” she shouts, but you’re already bounding down the back porch steps.

“I will!” you call, but the cicadas have already drowned you out as you skip toward the paddock. “Thank you for the tea, mama!”

Your mother is a woman of few mistakes, but she’d made one today. She told you you’re not allowed to see Eddie, and you’d sworn to obey her, and that was that. But her mistake lay in not asking you to show her your hands. 

Because she made you swear not to see him, but she hadn’t see your fingers crossed behind your back.

You haven’t spoken to Eddie yet today, but you know exactly where he’ll be. 

He’d called to you this morning; you heard it through your cracked window, where the white embroidered curtain swayed as the cackle of a crow cut through the early morning heat yet to fully settle in. You knew what the sound was right away: the call you’d come up with together five summers ago that meant to check the stump. You glanced toward the open door across the hall, the room beyond its threshold empty and still. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught yet, that none of the adults have cottoned on that the caw of the crow sounds an awful lot like a certain brash mischief-maker’s voice. You crouched down to the open window in your nightgown and coo’d your own answering call, the call of the turtle dove. Your musical voice is loud in your ears, but it needs to be in order to reach the red house across the way, separated by a sea of shorn grass and the thick wooden fence between. 

Over these five years, none of the adults have cottoned on that the turtle dove always answers the crow, either, and for that you’re grateful.

There was a pause of silence following your melodic coo. Your hair rustled in the slightest breeze whispering through the cracked window, puffing like a cool sigh against your skin as you turn your ear toward the opening and wait. You waited, and waited, oh, so patiently… 

And then you heard it: a quick and faint whoop-whoop of boyish delight that, like always, made you shake your head and snort.

Later that morning, you’d put the kitchen scraps out for the goats and edged alongside that thick wooden fence towards the gnarled stump that rests between your family’s farm and the Munsons’. It’s almost dead-center, nearly bisected by that wooden demarcation, but you claim a sliver more and never cease to remind Eddie of that fact. ‘It’s my stump,’ you declare, triumph in the corners of your smirking lips. ‘I’m just allowin’ you to use it out of the grace of my heart, Eddie Munson.’

This morning, you’d reached deep inside the hole, the one that’s rotted straight through to the other side. The one which, if you’d crouched to peek, would offer you an unobstructed view to the grass field of Eddie’s yard, identical to the one you occupy, differing only in its status as his homestead and not yours.

But you didn’t peer through that opening. Instead, you reached your arm in blindly up to the elbow, feeling around for the note you knew would be wedged inside. When your fingers brushed smooth paper, you pinched it and pulled it quickly back, casting a furtive glance around the yard to ensure you were still safe from watchful eyes. With nimble fingers you unfolded and read the note quickly before tearing it to shreds, cupping it in your palms and letting it free to be scattered in the wind.

The note had been memorized almost as soon as you’d read it. Its instruction was simple; you and Eddie have developed a sense of brevity in your message-leaving, writing only as much as necessary to communicate what is needed. Today, it had read, ‘three after noon, hop’s, creek.'

At three o’clock on the dot, you ride Guinnie out to the treeline and hang left, picking your way to the edge of Mr. Hopper’s property which just kisses the corner of the Munson’s farm opposite your family’s land. Eddie is already waiting for you there, nestled in the ferns, hand shading squinted eyes as he sits astride his horse Merlin. You guide Guineveire to meet him in a trot, but she ignores you when you pull the reigns to slow her, too eager to approach her friend. You sigh in exasperation but can’t help but smile when the two horses nicker softly and nudge their faces alongside one anothers’ cheeks.

They make a strange pair, these two. One gargantuan blue roan, his haunches coiled thick with muscle, downy gray and speckled with deep spots of dark to match his mane, tail, and socks; and one pale blonde palomino, stomping daintily as her cream ears flick when the other knocks her with his neck a bit too hard in his enthusiasm. Merlin and Guineveire— a mismatched pair, just like the ones who named them. Yet it little matters when Guinnie sways forward, leaning fondly against her larger companion and, incidentally, drawing you closer to the boy astride him. 

Eddie lightly kicks you in greeting once Guinnie makes a slow circle and comes to stand alongside Merlin rather than let her face be flicked by his tail, which twitches away the flies that came to investigate while he and Eddie waited for you. Eddie’s feet are bare and dirty, his trouser hems rolled sloppily above the ankle, and you grimace at him as you swipe dirt off the top of your foot where he’d left smudges on your bare skin. He interrupts before you can work yourself up about it, asking, “J’your ma make you sweep the whole house?”

“No, just the kitchen. I must be doin’ somethin’ right this week because she barely even fought me when I told her I was takin’ Guinnie out. And—” You lift the canteen near your thigh, shaking it so the liquid sloshes inside. “I brought us sweet tea.”

Eddie stares at the canteen with exaggerated rapturous relief, his reply a dramatic sigh. “Good, ‘cause I’m so parched I could drink a lake.”

So quick it’s almost automatic, you unthread the strap and pass the canteen over, watching as he unscrews the cap and throws his head back to gulp it in huge, desperate swallows. And he must be thirsty, because as you watch his adam’s apple bob while he guzzles the still-cold tea, you can see full beads of sweat dripping down the pale cords of his neck to disappear beneath the collar of his white work shirt. The top two buttons have been popped open for some hasty relief, the bottom hem still half-tucked into his trousers but rumpled now from heat and disregard, scrunched around his suspenders. You wonder how long he’d been waiting for you; sitting still like this for just a short while has already made the heat almost unbearable, and the sight of Eddie’s thick curtain of heavy, dark curls is enough to make even you feel hotter.

Eddie’s mouth pops from the canteen with a ragged gasp, lips blushed pink and shiny before they’re concealed behind a hasty swipe of his forearm as he wipes off his mouth and passes you back the canteen. You take a small swig yourself, careful not to let any spill on your dress as the sweet liquid fills your mouth and cools you fractionally, not enough to truly combat the thick, hot soup of the air. Capping the canteen, you ask, “Did you bring our book?”

The answer is written in the sudden sheepishness of your best friend’s expression, and yours flattens as he confirms it. “Nah,” he says, more rueful than dismissive. “I forgot.” 

His brows pinch when he sees how clearly crestfallen you are to hear it; he angles quickly to appease your disappointment, adding, “But I did nip some of the cookies Ms. Willard left for Wayne.” You barely have time to brighten before he’s scrunching his nose, saying, “I think she’s actually sweet on ‘im,” like the thought makes him want to scrape the words from his tongue.

You swat at him, and Merlin chuffs disgruntledly when Eddie leans back to avoid you. “Stop that!” you chastise him. “I think it’s darling.”

Eddie is unrepentant, brown eyes lit with the hazy gold of afternoon sun that glints in them mischievously as he doubles down rather than relenting. “It’s disgusting. I might chuck if I have to think about them all wrinkled and bumpin’ uglies.” Before you can retort, he tilts his face at you, coaxing in a sing-song, “The cookies are lemon and lavender— your favorite.”

Your lips fall open in delighted surprise as you anticipate the crumble of tart lemon and sweet, earthy lavender on your tongue. Such a treat truly is your favorite, and mama never bakes so indulgently except for special occasions. Eddie beams at you, his mouth split in a fond, lopsided smile at the sight of your happiness, and his smile washes away any lingering reproach you feel at the insinuation that Ms. Willard would carry on in such an inappropriate way with Wayne. She may be aged and unmarried, but she’s still a lady.

It takes a moment to realize that, in your enthusiasm, you’ve begun wiggling your hips, the hem of your dress pulled tight over the saddle as more bare leg inches out when you swing your feet in little kicks of glee. You realize it when you watch Eddie’s eyes dart down to your exposed calf for a split-second and then back up to your face, his broad grin softening to something stickier, something forbidden and decadent like the cookies he’d stolen for you to share. 

It’s not the first time Eddie’s looked at you like that this summer. His gaze has been lingering a little too long for some time now, his fingers a little too eager to graze and tease, his breath skating a little too close along your cheek when you’re alone. And when you’re not, he’s a little too eager to position himself beside you when you’re seated at the table with others, to shout and cackle and make himself big so you’ll look at him across the room at a party, to act the fool in front of crowds of townsfolk if only to hear you giggle, however slight it might be. 

Not to say that his manner is entirely new. He’s always been a handful since the day he moved in next door ten years ago— wild and frenetic, brash and mischievous, quick-witted and imaginative, restless and wanting and oh, so hungry for something, only heaven knows what. It took no time at all for you, at eight years old, to befriend the odd boy on the farm beside yours. There was something about Edward Munson that appealed to you. He was too much for many, but he was never too much for you— to handle, to temper, to thrive beside. And because you were the only one who Eddie felt truly understood him, he’d quickly become covetous of your attention, and you of his. You wanted to know him, and he wanted to know you. And over years of playing pretend, celebrating birthdays and running errands in town, exploring the landscape beyond your farmsteads and rescuing one another from boredom, sadness, and the ire of your adults— giving just as much as you receive— you feel you know Eddie Munson as deeply as one friend can know another.

But the attention Eddie has paid you lately is not the same as it’s been in years past. You feel that difference in the pit of your belly when his eyes catch yours across the room, in the tingling of your skin as his fingertips graze it incidentally, in the flutter behind your ribcage when the sun shifts and the softness of his nose or the slant of his jaw or the ruddiness of his knuckles looks suddenly more captivating than it had the moment before. But it’s not the sun that’s made it so; it’s not Eddie’s features that have suddenly changed. It’s a feeling inside you, growing restless and wanting and oh, so hungry for something that both thrills and scares you in equal measure.

So when Eddie’s eyes hold yours a beat too long, you quickly look away, lifting one side of Guineveire’s reigns so she’ll turn from where she’d been comfortably lazing her head against Merlin’s. Your horse rouses, alert now as she feels the shift in your energy, the way your thighs tighten against her sides in preparation for what you have planned. “Come on,” you say, tossing Eddie a smirk over your shoulder as Guinnie snuffs in anticipation, hooves shifting against grass and fern. “I’ll race you to the crik.”

Any protest about unfairness from Eddie is drowned out by your joyous whoop as you snap the reins and Guinnie takes off like a bat out of hell. Merlin may be stronger than Guineveire, and Eddie more wild than you, but no one rivals you in conviction once your mind is set. 

You’ve set your mind to beating Eddie, and so you do. You beat him by almost a full minute, heart pounding and hair mussed as you emerge from the thicket to the welcome sight of the creek. Down by the bank on the right, a towering weeping willow steals all of the attention; its branches dip full and low over lazily flowing water, the edges of those leafy tendrils grazing its surface like a languid caress. You’ve been here many times before, sometimes with Eddie and sometimes without, and the sight of the ferns tapering to short clover in the clearing between forest and water and then to cattails at the bank’s edge is as familiar to you as the back of your hand. 

You’re suddenly glad to have beaten Eddie to the creek for a reason other than bragging rights: dismounting Guinnie exposes enough knee and thigh beneath your dress to thoroughly scandalize your mama, even with a copse of trees and two farm-fields between you. You don’t much care how unladylike it is to travel astride in a dress as opposed to sidesaddle— you’d rather hike up your skirt than try to navigate through the woods sitting so insecurely, but it does force you into a rather compromising position for a moment as you climb down. Thankfully, no one is around to see it, other than the chickadees trilling in the branches of the willow, the turtles sunning themselves on flat river rocks, and the bullfrog croaking inside a dead log at the water’s edge. You lead Guinnie over to the trunk of a nearby cedar, and you’re still tying her off when Eddie bursts from the trees, huffing and swiping errant leaves from his hair as Merlin wanders over toward you and Guinnie independent of his rider’s direction.

“Took you long enough,” you sass, pursing your lips against a smug smile when Eddie grunts sourly. 

Eddie swings himself down to the ground, his pale forearm flexing as he catches Merlin’s bridle to keep him from tossing his head impatiently. “Yeah, I know, I know, you beast,” he mutters, and though he glowers, there’s a touch of fondness in it, apparent as he smooths his hand so carefully along Merlin’s powerful neck. “You’ll be all snug next to your girlfriend in a jif. Just wanna get this saddle off’ya first.”

As if falling into a practiced routine, you and Eddie prepare your lounging space for the afternoon. He tends the horses while you clear rocks and twigs to lay down the woven blanket in your knapsack. Wordlessly, you take Guinnie and Merlin’s saddles from him, laying them across the mossy boulder at the edge of the clearing; wordlessly, he passes you the canteen and the paper bag of cookies, and you carry them over to the blanket, laying them in the clover nearby. You’re watching how the light plays through the leafy canopy above you, casting shadows that dance on the weave of your blanket when Eddie lopes up from behind, brushing past you in a rustle of cloth and a blaze of body heat before flopping down unceremoniously onto his back in the middle of the blanket.

Your voice comes indignant and quick at the sight of his filthy toes. “Ed, your—”

With a jolt, he snatches his feet up where they’d been threatening your blanket, shimmying himself down until he can bend his knees and plant those filthy toes in the soft clover instead. He tucks his hands under his head, closing his eyes and nestling in with a contented sigh as you lay out much more carefully beside him. As soon as you’re prone on your tummy, skirt fanned across your calves and elbow grazing the side of his buttoned shirt when you prop your chin on your fists, you’re eyeing him expectantly. Your gaze roams his peaceful face, unconcerned about the tick in his brow as you demand, “Tell me a story.”

Eddie cracks his eyes just barely to slant you a glance, and their umber is nearly concealed by his long, dark lashes as he drawls, “Can’t a man who’s spent the whole day breakin' his back take a moment to rest, you pesky woman?”

You’re entirely unphased by his snark. “Firstly,” you challenge him, “you spent a good part of the day futzin’ around on your guitar, and don’t you try to argue the point ‘cause I heard you playin’ over the fence. And secondly, you’re the one who forgot to bring Don Quixote. I wanna hear a story about knights and dragons and princesses, and it’s your responsibility to deliver,” you finish haughtily. 

Eddie sighs heavily, pretending to hem and haw just to get a rise out of you. It doesn’t take long for his frown to melt into a grin when you play along, kicking your feet in the air and raising your voice to be heard over his griping. “And now you gotta put in a giant and a windmill just ‘cause you’re vexing me!” 

“Fine, fine, Christ Almighty,” he relents, and you drop the charade immediately, walking your elbows over to angle toward him for optimal listening, your eyes trained on his pale face. 

 Almost effortlessly, Eddie begins to weave you a tale about knights and dragons and princesses as his eyes go far away, watching the puffy-clouded sky, and your eyes go gooey and soft, watching him. His gaze flicks to yours when the giant and windmill each are introduced, his plush lips curling when you smile at him, inordinately delighted that he’s humoring you even though he always does. The buzzing hum of August’s voice sings along as he regales you, the sounds of the forest a welcome melody to accompany the theatrical accents he gives to each character. 

The longer he goes, the more animated Eddie gets, and it’s almost— almost— enough to forget just how hot it is today. While the creek offers some indirect relief, cooling whatever slight breeze occasionally wavers through the fronds, the humidity and sun are formidable beasts, palpable and oppressive as they crowd in against you and Eddie both. Eventually, Eddie’s gesturing and facial expressions grow visibly weaker as his bangs begin to stick to his glistening skin and sweat pools in the hollow of his throat. The dampness pops along your skin, too; the nape of your neck begins to itch, and when you swipe at your upper lip, the heel of your hand comes away wet. 

It’s clear when Eddie’s voice cracks that it’s time to take a break. Your dress's fabric clings uncomfortably to your skin when you twist to grab the canteen, passing it to Eddie first, who takes two conscientious sips before promptly handing it back so you can loosen your sticky tongue and soothe your own throat. You snatch up the cookies next, your stomach growling as you see the evidence of their decadence— the bottom of the paper bag has grown dark as it soaked up their butter, making your mouth water with anticipation. You reach eagerly inside to pull out two cookies, passing them into Eddie’s waiting palm before taking one of your own.

You nibble as you sit up, crossing your legs underneath your skirt, your knee pressing into Eddie’s hip as tart lemon and earthy lavender burst within your mouth, the cookies more dense and sweet than you’d even remembered. You don’t stifle your moan of satisfaction as your head tips back and sags in bliss, lips puckering so you can keep chewing though they want to smile. 

“That good, huh?” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, warm and teasing, but you don’t bother to reply, entirely taken in by your favorite flavors. Instead, you just nod and impulsively stuff the entire cookie in your mouth.

The rasp of Eddie’s barking laughter has you huffing amusedly through your nose in turn as you dig in the bag, swallowing a little prematurely but resolved in savoring this next one. You eat the second cookie much more slowly, gazing out at the creek as it undulates in little swirls of blue and green and white, unrelenting in seeking its way around whatever may jut into its path— a branch stuck between rocks, a tangle of leaves caught in strands of rivergrass near the shore. It’s a comfort to see it flow so steadily, endlessly churning and ever-changing, but nevertheless a reliable constant you can return to time and again.

The second treat tastes just as good as the first, and you lick the crumbs from your fingertips as you glance down at Eddie once you’ve finished. He has eaten his cookies lying down, one hand propped beneath the splay of his dark wild curls and the other resting on the flat of his tummy. In between them, marring the white of his half-unbuttoned shirt and stuck against the skin exposed by that gaping triangle, is a conspicuous heap of golden-brown crumbs. The mess is entirely unsurprising, considering how sloppy Eddie often is, but the result is no less distasteful for it.

You scrunch your nose and lean over him, planting one palm in the space his bent elbow makes beside his ear and briskly swiping the other along cotton and damp skin. Your chuckles color your admonishment as you exclaim, “Sit up if you can’t help but make a mess of yourself! You’re such a pig, I swear—!” 

 Eddie surges up, capturing your wrist in a grip light enough to break if you were to want to. “Take it back,” he says warningly, and when he tilts his head this time, the glimmer of mischief in his eye tells you it’s not to coax you. A thrill alights in your chest at the promise of the game, the way his long fingers circle your wrist so easily. 

A giggle squeaks out of you before you declare loudly, “Never!”

Your gleeful shriek echoes off the willow and the cedars, the creek and the clover as Eddie grapples with you playfully. You try to fist one of his suspenders with your other hand, but the attempt puts you at his mercy; he uses that advantage to bully you down flat to the blanket, though even in this semblance of roughhousing Eddie’s attempts are light and easy, nowhere near the latent power coiled in his biceps from years of chopping wood in winter, tilling earth in spring, and hacking hay in fall. Husky chuckles rain on your skin as you squirm and wiggle in his grip, not really trying in earnest to escape until his hand leaves your shoulder and dips instead to your waist, fingers digging with devilish precision into the most ticklish parts of you.

Your glee turns to desperate gasping and involuntary, wheezing giggles as Eddie tickles you mercilessly while you try harder to buck away from his touch. Your attempts are entirely ineffectual, and the sensation of his deft fingers writhing against your ribs and the soft of your waist coupled with the stifling heat of his body where he has you half-pinned beneath him to keep you from escaping, has your face utterly burning with discomfited hysterics.

He doesn’t let up until you call for mercy, though at the first stuttered “St-stop—” that falls from your lips, his fingers immediately cease their cursed torture. Boneless, exhausted, your head tips back against the blanket as you heave for air, the fuzz in your head from lack of breath slowly dissipating as Eddie’s palm drags firmly and briskly up and down your waist, rubbing away the residual ticklish sensation almost contritely. 

Once you’ve gotten your bearings and recovered your senses, you realize that while Eddie has stopped tickling you, he hasn’t moved from his position half on top of you. His belly presses into yours with each breath, firm and solid just like the rest of him, and you can smell the evidence of the August day clinging to his dark curls where they’re pinned against your nose: the sour tang of sweat, the earthy snap of tobacco smoke, the natural musk of his body, and, beneath it all, the scent of wild rain, of summer wind and petrichor, subtle but heady like an approaching storm. That feeling within you stirs, awakening at the press of his solid weight across your ribs and breasts, but the heat of him, while in some ways welcome, makes the heavy August humidity edge beyond extremely uncomfortable to utterly unbearable.

You express your discontent with an exaggerated shimmy of your shoulders; Eddie stirs, grunting as you make his resting place unpleasant to continue resting on. “It’s too dang hot for wrestling,” you gripe, “get offa me, you big oaf.”

Eddie’s head pops immediately from your shoulder, his nose nearly brushing yours as he pins you with a wide and eager stare. The gleam in his umber eyes should alarm you, but all you feel is that stirring inside again until his breath ghosts over your lips when he declares proudly, “Then let’s go swimming.” 

His face shines like it’s the best idea he’s ever had, but exasperation floods to stifle that warm stirring within you. Eddie pouts when he sees your face contort skeptically, pink lips poking petulantly at your immediate resistance. “Eddie,” his name is mostly a sympathetic sigh, “I can’t. My mama would roast me alive, you know that.”

Your best friend’s eyes narrow at your tone, and you suck your lips into your mouth almost apologetically, knowing Eddie really doesn’t like it when you treat him like he’s simple. The remorse fades when he quirks a brow, glancing down at the slick skin of your throat and collarbone exposed above your neckline before teasing, “You’re already roastin’ alive. You’re sweatin’ like a whore in church.”

Your indignance is instant and fierce. “Edward Munson! Well, I never—!” You shove him bodily off of you, and he lets you, rasping with easy laughter as he leans on a palm to the side of you, looking down at your burning face with a smirk. 

Eddie is smirking, but you know he doesn’t mean to call you a whore, that he only really says things like that because he likes to goad these reactions out of you. And you’d keep playing his game— keep being angry at him— if it weren’t for the way the light was filtering through the leaves, playing on his frizzy curls and lighting them beautifully amber at the edges. If it weren’t for the way his collar had fallen further open when you’d been roughhousing, exposing more of his pale chest as it bunches around his suspenders, making him look more like the cover of some two-cent romance novel than the sloppy farmboy he’s always been. If it weren’t for the way he's looking down at you— you lying prone on your back with him beside you, towering over you from your vantage point, with that sharp jaw and the plush curl of his lopsided smirk and the veins popping on the forearm he’s braced on, his skin flushed pink beneath the rolled sleeves of his white shirt. 

Your anger dissolves at the sight of these things, and if it had remained, perhaps this next conversation would have gone differently.

You lean up slightly, your eyes sliding from your best friend’s face to the scenery behind him. The slow journey of the creek’s water over rocks and sticks, the soothing sound of its trickle and flow, the sight of those willow leaves dragging against its smooth surface… 

It looks so mouthwateringly refreshing.

With the lack of your anger comes mournful regret. “I can’t go home soaking wet,” you lament, and your tone makes your internal conflict clear.

Your eyes slide reluctantly from the creek back to Eddie, and you see a peculiar look cross his face. “I mean,” he says, hesitating for the briefest moment, “we could just take our clothes off.”

You blink at him, thrown entirely for a loop at the outlandishness of that suggestion, rendered mute as you try— and fail— to process it. In your muteness, Eddie keeps talking, as if he’s working it out to himself while he speaks. “Yeah. Ya know, that could actually work. Could swim for awhile, cool down, get out, dry off with the blanket.” He grins. “Bet we’d even air dry in no time in this heat.”

The proposition is absurd. It’s entirely inappropriate, and just… just lying there, staring up at Eddie’s face as he leans over you, makes your skin feel suddenly too tight for your body. You sit up abruptly, folding your knees and wrapping your arms around them. When Eddie clocks the look on your face, he huffs, his voice going a little sharp in defensiveness. “What? What's wrong with that? We've been friends for ages; I’d say we’re way past the point of gettin' embarrassed.” He snaps and points at you, shaking his finger as he gets on a roll. “‘Member when you came to me all upset because you bled through your dress and had to turn your apron around to keep your ma’ from seeing? I even helped you get the blood out. Didn’t I?” He doesn’t give you a chance to confirm or deny before continuing smugly, as if he’s got you beat, “And I showed you that nasty wart on my toe when you asked me to, even though I really didn’t wanna. See? Like I said, no reason to be embarrassed.”

You’d stopped listening at the mention of his wart, craning your neck to try and see his foot where it’s tucked against the clover over the edge of the blanket. “How is that now? Is it still there?” you ask earnestly. Eddie just snuffs a wry breath through his nose; his curls sway as he shakes his head. 

“Uh-uh. Already showed y’once, I’m not doin’ it again. Plus, you’re provin’ my point.” He smiles at you crookedly, digging his toes further into the clover to hide them before eyeing you smugly. And you can’t fault his logic when you’d walked right into it like that. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you reluctantly agree, to which he adds,

“Plus, s'not like I haven't seen you nekkid before.” 

You can’t help but scoff at that. “Yeah, when we were, what, eleven? It's different now.” 

The smugness on Eddie’s face melts; his eyes fill with that stickiness from before, like when he looks at you a little too long. His voice a quiet murmur, Eddie asks you, “What makes it different now?” 

The question could be answered easily enough. Because we're grown. Because you're a man now, and I'm a woman, and it wouldn't be proper. But after this summer's changes, and with that feeling awakening in the pit of your belly— wanting, yearning, hungry— you can tell that it's more loaded than that. Suddenly, the air feels heavier than it was just a moment before, thicker with something other than summertime humidity as you stare into Eddie’s umber eyes. Nervousness dances along your limbs, but it’s not that terrified kind of fear— it’s closer to anticipation.

Rather than answering the question directly, you avoid it, lifting your chin to reply as nonchalantly as you can, though you feel anything but. “Fine.” 

Eddie’s eyes bug out. “R-Really?” 

His immediate shock makes you rush hot with embarrassment, feeling caught out and self-conscious. Your voice bursts from you in defensive indignance as you drop your knees, crossing your arms tight beneath your breasts. “You cannot be serious. You're the one who proposed it, Ed!” 

He scrambles to keep you from getting upset, brow pinched and eyes wide in a different way. “No, no, I…” He flounders for a moment, looking at a loss. “I just didn’t… I didn’t think—” 

With a sharp shake of his dark curls, face scrunched as if to clear the cobwebs from his head, Eddie cuts himself off. He blinks at you silently for a moment, finally saying, somewhat more hoarsely, “We can do it. I wanna do it.” 

You watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob as his eyes scan quickly down your cotton dress, lingering in your lap, though the swaths of fabric conceal even the innocent outline of your legs. A pulse of heat tingles low as his gaze sweeps over you, and you resist the urge to jam your hands down to cover yourself, feeling exposed though there’s nothing to see. Fiercely, you warn him, “Just keep your back turned ‘til I get in the water, or I'll whoop you." 

Eddie snorts loudly, countering, “You really think you could whoop me?" 

“Yes,” you snap back sassily, your faux-confidence deflating slightly as you add, “...if you let me.”

You smile at the warm chuckle he rewards you with, but when Eddie starts peeling his suspenders down, your heart seizes in your chest. The anticipation feels a little more like fear now that you’re confronted with the reality of what you and Eddie are about to do. You pop to your feet, rocking on your heels and fidgeting with your fingers, and Eddie’s brows jump when he looks up and registers your nervousness. Your voice wavers slightly as you ask half a question, letting it trail off into implication. “Are you gonna, um…?”

“Yeah, no, yeah,” he says quickly, scrambling up and wiping his palms on his trousers. Haltingly, cheeks pink, he rushes, “I’ll just… I’ll go behind the willow. Meet you in there.”

“Yep,” you say, the word bitten off a little too short in your awkwardness. “‘Kay.”

“‘Kay,” Eddie echoes, shooting you a sheepish smile before hurrying off in that direction. Only once he’s ducked behind the willow trunk does the hammering of your heart begin to calm, that nervousness settling back to anticipation, though it’s a little queasier than it was before now that there’s nothing technically stopping you from preparing to swim.

You kick off your shoes first— the simplest to remove— and, with a deep breath, you begin to undress. 

With trembling fingers, you undo the buttons on your dress and peel the sticky fabric from your arms and decolletage. Your silky chemise comes next, and you aren’t sure whether to be grateful or rueful that in the summer, you’re wearing so few layers. It’s an odd sensation to feel the sun on every part of you— the small of your back, the valley between your breasts— as you fold your chemise and neatly tuck it between the bodice and skirt of your dress to maintain modesty before laying them both on the blanket. 

And that’s it, then. The chickadees titter in the branches, the turtles sun themselves on flat river rocks, the bullfrog croaks in the dead log at the water’s edge, Merlin and Guinnie nicker gently at the edge of the clover clearing— and in the middle of it all, you stand there, buck-naked as the day you were born.

It feels distinctly uncomfortable at first, being naked anywhere but in your bedroom or bathroom back at home. You half-suspect your mama to come barreling out of the trees, ruddy-faced and angry as the devil to drag you back to the farm by your ear and lash you, both with words and with papa’s belt. But as the seconds tick by, and you begin to settle into the feeling, the weak breeze that wavers the fronds whispers along your sticky skin, tickling you pleasantly. You look towards the creek— the whole purpose for your nakedness— and you begin to covet the sight of the flowing water, to imagine how it will slither against your ankles and knees, cradling your body in cool refreshment. Discomfort eases; eagerness at the thought of that relief takes its place.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to stray to the thick trunk of the willow overhanging the creek. You imagine Eddie behind it and begin to ponder all sorts of questions. What does he look like underneath his clothes? Is he lean? You’ve seen the muscles on his arms and back earlier this spring when he’d take off his shirt to work in the field as the weather got warmer; you couldn’t see much, though, as you had nary a birds-eye view from your distant bedroom window, and no way could you have chanced trying to peep over the fence. You find yourself wondering now, Are his thighs as muscular as his arms seem to be? Are his calves? Do the freckles across the bridge of his nose echo on other parts of his body this late in the summer, maybe on his shoulders? 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him bare— seven years, give or take— and you know you can’t reliably compare what you’d seen then with what he looks like now; Eddie’s more man than boy lately. The nature of your wondering changes. What does a bare man look like, anyway? You’ve never seen one. Naturally, a question follows: Has Eddie seen a bare woman before? 

That wondering flusters you, and you can only begin to think about why before heat is rushing to your cheeks and you need to abandon the thought. Unconsciously, you go to smooth your skirt, but your hands hit the flesh of your thighs instead, unencumbered by clothes. You glance down and your breasts are there, sloping gently from your chest, your nipples soft in the warm humidity. It makes you wonder how Eddie’s chest has changed, whether he has hair there now. It can’t be thick if he does, or you probably would’ve seen it from the window. Does he have hair any other places? You suppose he probably does, since you’d grown hair under your arms and between your legs when you reached your maturity, too. You only barely conceive a thought about what lies between Eddie’s legs, and that flusters you so thoroughly that when you press your palms to your cheeks, your skin feels hotter than you imagine the surface of the sun must be.

You wonder then if Eddie is thinking about you and how your body has changed in the same way that you’re thinking about him. It makes you self-conscious to picture him imagining you beneath your clothes, drawing his own conclusions about your shape, and then glimpsing the truth of what your clothes conceal. No one has seen your naked body except for mama and your older sister, who couldn’t give two hoots what you look like, and the thought of someone looking at you and being disappointed in what they see is a crushing thought. Not that you think Eddie will see your body, really, but you can’t help but—

A sudden whoop, wild and boyish, startles you out of your thoughts, and with a blur of pale flesh and dark curls, Eddie takes a running leap into the creek. 

The dramatic smack of Eddie’s body against the water has you bolting for the willow tree, your hands colliding with rough bark as you peek around it, beratements hissing through your teeth. “What a reckless, stupid idiot you are, Eddie Munson!” The words are cutting, but the crinkle of your brow and the squeezing of your chest bely the true meaning behind them. Your breath catches as beats pass without any sign of him, anxiety rising until his head bursts from the surface of the water, fixing you with a waterlogged but manic smile as you peer at him from the other side of the trunk, body shielded from his view.

The only way you could possibly convey the depth of your vexation and relief is by childishly stomping your foot, and you do just that. “Gosh darn it!” you shout, face all screwed up, “You’re so—! Ugh!” You stomp again. “You coulda hit your head on a rock and drowned!”

Eddie ignores your shouting, dark curls plastered to his cheeks that round with the force of his joy. “Git over here!” he calls, “It feels like heaven in here!” He laughs raucously, disturbing the water as he swishes his arms through it in boyish delight.

Seeing his joy and yearning for that refreshment for yourself, you put aside the tightness of your worry for him. “Turn around!” you call, and obligingly, Eddie straightens and does, showing you the plane of his pale back and the wet tendrils of his drenched curls covering his shoulder blades. “And no peeking!” you tack on, snorting as you hear him slap both palms over his eyes, though the gesture warms your heart nonetheless.

You edge down to the bank, keeping one hand on the willow’s trunk as you test your footing. The bottom of the creek bed is a little slippery with stones but mostly soft with peat and algae, and the water feels so rapturously cool on your ankles that you sigh audibly in relief once both feet are in. You wade further toward the center of the creek until the water reaches the tops of your breasts, at which point you finally toss a glance in Eddie’s direction again. 

Even with a few feet of distance separating you, knowing Eddie is naked underneath the water has your nerves churning up again; you duck down so that the cool water covers your clavicle, making sure your breasts can't be seen before you finally call out to him again, much more quietly now with your proximity. 

“Okay,” you say, chewing on your bottom lip, “you can stop covering your eyes. My virtue is protected,” you joke, though it comes out a little more tremulously than you had hoped. 

Slowly, Eddie’s jutting elbows straighten as he drops his hands from his face, and your eyes dart over everything you can see— the chapped ruddiness of his elbows, the veins in his arms, the bend of the skin at his waist as he begins to turn around. And then you’re just looking at his face as it emerges— the curve of his ear, the darkness of his hair, normally a frizzy stormcloud around his head but now flattened silkily against his jaw; the hollow shadow between his jaw and throat, the softness of his nose, the beads of water clinging to his dark brow. 

And then, all at once, Eddie is facing you. His umber eyes never stray from your face, not glancing for a peek of exposed skin, though you’ve ensured barely any can be seen, just the tiniest sliver of the tops of your shoulders, plus your neck and face. Not much he hasn’t seen before. Nevertheless, he doesn’t try— doesn’t attempt to look below the water to see what your bare body looks like. He’s a gentleman, perfectly adhering to your instruction not to peek, but you can’t decide if you’re more relieved or disappointed by his compliance. 

For a long moment, there’s just the sound of the creek flowing between you as you look back at Eddie. He's taller than you, and he isn’t hunched; he’s standing tall, seemingly unconcerned about you seeing what flesh is exposed above the water. Your eyes glide over the water running off the ends of his curls and down his pale chest, making little ripples when they slide into the creek where they belong. You remain composed until you notice the dusk of his nipples beaded with water, hard and puckered in the water’s chill. Your eyes widen slightly as the sight awakens that hunger again, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind in an effort to keep him from noticing your reaction. 

“Oh, my word, this is so refreshing!” you say, perhaps overly enthusiastic, your smile a bit too broad as it aches in your cheeks. “Probably the best idea you've ever had, in fact. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Eddie’s brow twitches in confused amusement at your exaggerated cheer, but he blessedly decides not to comment apart from saying, “Think that’s the first time you’ve ever willingly apologized to me.”

“Mmm…” you pretend to deliberate, wobbling your head back and forth. “Yeah, maybe,”you reply, chuckling to lighten the mood. 

But your laughter weakens, going a little uneasy as Eddie wades closer, head tilting like a curious hound. “You didn't get your hair wet,” he observes, and you glance up like you’d be able to see it atop your head. 

“I don't wanna get my hair wet, Eddie,” you say, an edge of warning in your voice already. Because you know Eddie Munson, and you know that, though the observation had sounded entirely innocent, those umber eyes are already gleaming with mischief.

“Awww,” he goads, and the word goes husky with laughter as he sees the alarm on your face, the way you tense warily as he edges closer. “Come on, turtle dove. You gotta go under.” 

“No, Eddie.” You attempt to be firm, glaring at him in an attempt at intimidation. “It'll mess it all up and it’ll never dry in time—”

“Here,” he says lightly, disregarding your protests as his smile goes wolfish, “I’ll help you—”

Quick as a copperhead strike, Eddie makes to grab for your arms. But you’d been prepared for this— you dodge backward, squealing and splashing him directly in the face. 

Eddie halts and sputters, running his hands roughly over his eyes and dragging them down the expanse of his face. And you know— you know— with how Eddie’s wolfish smile goes manic and wild when it’s revealed again that now, you've really done it. 

Desperation drives you as you begin to scramble backward, wetting the ends of your hair in your haste to get away. He pursues you almost languidly, with a sense of confident assurance that has you crumbling and grasping for your final defense, which is to declare shrilly, “Edward Munson, don't you dare. I swear on all things holy—”

When Eddie lunges for you, you know with a sense of certainty that you won’t be able to escape the cage of his hot hands as he traps you, holding you firmly around the upper arms. In fact, you don’t even try very hard at first— you just let him grab you, freezing in his grip as if in hope that your compliance will convince him to take mercy on you. But then, with a bright grin of triumph, Eddie begins whipping his head side to side, shaking his curls to coat you with water like a dog. 

You brace your palms on his chest and push then, crying out in dismay as you feel the droplets rain down on your hair and face. “Eddie!" you protest, but as you squint at him, you begin laughing— laughing at how silly he looks doing that, laughing at the fact that he could’ve easily shoved you under the water but has chosen to do this instead. You're laughing, and then Eddie starts laughing, your voices overwhelming the sound of the cicadas as they bounce off river rocks and cedars, filling the August air with your shared joy.

Eddie is still holding you, still shaking his head, though more slowly now, as you suppose he’s likely getting dizzy. And this becomes one of your games— you press your palms harder against his chest and his fingers tighten around your upper arms, pulling as you push, keeping a careful equilibrium in maintaining distance. 

You maintain distance until, with the river water and sweat combined, your slippery hands slide on his chest. 

One moment, you’re pushing and he’s pulling, equally and carefully matched in strength to continue your game. The next instant, before you can think or react, you’ve lost purchase. Eddie has no time to think or react, either; not expecting that sudden lack of resistance, he tugs you bodily against him. 

Suddenly, his hot skin is everywhere, slick and firm and soft all at once. A ragged gasp rips from your throat as you’re overwhelmed by sensation: your hard nipples rasping against the dusting of hair on his chest, your nose now smushed against the hollow of his throat, the entire length of your body buzzing with the utter foreignness of feeling someone else's bare skin touching your bare skin. And there's something else, something inexplicably hotter than the rest of Eddie’s body, somehow hard and silky soft all at once where it presses between you against your belly. You’re uncomprehending for only a fraction of a second before it becomes very obvious what it must be.

Oh.

Oh.

You spring apart from him at the same time that he releases you, no more than a second after the impact, though it had somehow felt much longer than that in the moment. Your face floods with searing heat as you stare at him, barely registering the look of wide-eyed, visceral horror on Eddie’s face as your heart pounds in your ears. His mouth is moving, but you don’t hear it— you’re consumed by the feelings flooding your body, reeling from shock and mortification but also from dizzying, fluttering euphoria. Because that feeling inside you— the one that hungers for something more with the boy standing across from you, who's still blathering something you can’t hear— has now had a taste of what it yearns for. Liquid heat pools low in your belly, pulsing much more intensely than the typical tingle you feel when thinking about Eddie in this way, rushing up to buzz through your body until your pupils dilate and you burst with heady need.

Eddie’s dismayed rambling eventually becomes discernable above the pounding of your heart. You register distantly what he’s saying— “I'm so sorry, oh fuck, please, i-it was an accident, I didn’t mean to—” but all that matters is that he's babbling, hysterical, face contorted and fingers fisted in his curls in a way that must be painful. And how can you talk to him like this? How can you even begin to think when he’s yammering on in such a way?

So you stomp forward, grab the back of Eddie’s neck and yank his face into your outstretched palm, which clamps over his lips. “Eddie Munson,” you huff, ignoring the way his lips feel against your palm as he keeps trying to speak, though you suspect it’s more in befuddlement now than remorse as his eyes are wide as kitchen saucers. “Would you just shut it for one dang second?” 

All at once, Eddie’s stifled speech ceases, and his lips grow still against your palm. You sigh, relieved to have finally put a stop to that noise, but the look on Eddie’s face pierces you, holding you fast.

He looks terrified.

Eddie looks more scared than you’ve ever seen him, his brow scrunched up tight, his eyes so dismayed that they appear glassy with unshed tears. It pierces you deeply to see him looking at you this way, tugging behind your ribs until your chest aches like the deepest bruise. Your brows marry in the middle, crinkling up as your eyes go big and soft and sad for him. “Eddie,” you whisper, cracked with compassion at the sight of his distress, though fear and longing have knit you up just as tightly inside. And though you let go of the nape of his neck, you don't pull your palm away from his face. Instead, slowly, tentatively, you shift your hand to Eddie’s cheek, dragging against his warm skin in a slow, crawling path as he stands stock-still, watching you like a deer in headlights. You pause for a long moment, just holding Eddie’s cheek, before your trembling thumb lowers, petting featherlight along his cheekbone.

It’s not something that can be explained away by one best friend attempting to comfort another after a mortifying accident. Your thumb traces Eddie’s cheekbone once, twice, and then again, prodding against the boundary of your friendship in a way that cannot be ignored. Stroking Eddie Munson’s cheekbone is the scariest thing you’ve ever done because on the other side of this choice can be effusive bliss or rending sorrow, and nothing in-between.

Your breath is shallow as you wait for Eddie to react— to say or do something, anything, to indicate what he’s thinking. Because he doesn’t look scared anymore, but you can’t place the look on his face, either. You’ve never seen it before. And then slowly, as if he’s half afraid to move and shatter the illusion, Eddie’s hand emerges from the surface of the creek, droplets running down the length of his forearm and falling in little ripples back into the water as he reaches up and brushes his fingertips so gently, so lightly, against your collarbone. It’s a graze of skin you can barely feel, but you tremble nonetheless.

“Eddie,” you whisper again, but compassion doesn’t crack your voice this time. 

Wanting does.

Eddie swallows thickly, voice hoarse and choked with the weight of what he is about to ask. “C-can I kiss you? Please?”

There is no hesitation, only sweet, euphoric relief when you nod, and then your best friend is kissing you.

Fluttering, dizzying desire bursts in your belly when Eddie slots his mouth against your mouth; all you can feel is warm wetness as his breath flows down to mingle with yours in your lungs. It isn’t tentative, or questioning, or timid when Eddie kisses you, grabbing up your face and moaning past your teeth as if he’s never wanted anything more in his life. Your fingers scrabble for purchase along his muscular shoulders, clutching slippery skin as you whimper and move your lips frantically against his. The heat of his skin and lips contrasts with the cool slick of the water enveloping your bodies from the chest down, and the sensation makes you break out in goosebumps that he soothes with restless stroking of his broad palms over your arms and back. You’ve wanted to touch him like this— be touched by him like this— so desperately that your bones cried out for it, and they sing in praise as Eddie hikes you up against him, kissing you insistently, crushing you so tightly to his body that it’s almost uncomfortable. But it’s exactly what you need— your breasts pressed up against his chest, your belly heaving into his as you gasp and kiss and lick into his mouth, brain fuzzy, body following only instinct. Eddie’s palms find the small of your back, clutching you close as he angles his muscular thigh between your legs. You whine, body electrified with the feeling of his hands pressing your hips forward until that place between your legs rubs against him, sparking delicious friction that seems to be the physical culmination of that hunger inside you, never before explored.

When you undulate your hips experimentally, mimicking the movement Eddie has coaxed you to follow, his palms leave the small of your back to pull you closer, wrapping you up in his firm embrace. With how tightly you’re pressed against him, you can feel that the hardness trapped between you is even hotter and stiffer now against your hip, and it makes that hunger flare in the pit of your belly, desiring more, more, more. You’re panting, overtaken as Eddie licks across your bottom lip, and you whimper; with shaky fingers, you reach down beneath the water, seeking blindly between your bodies until your fingertips brush against the very tip of that hardness. 

You stiffen in surprise as it jumps against your belly; abruptly, Eddie pulls his mouth from yours but doesn’t retreat completely. He continues to hold you, chest heaving, staring into your eyes for a dazed moment before his lips crack and his voice leaks out hoarsely. “Have you ever lain with a man?” 

Your cheeks heat at the brazenness of the question, but considering the position you’re in— pressed up against him, having just been rubbing yourself along his thigh and feeling his hardness dig into your hip— you suppose talking about this is far less brazen than you’ve already been today. Mutely, you shake your head. “Have you,” you ask, “with a woman?” 

After a moment, Eddie nods. Your stomach falls; you feel yourself grow sour with jealousy, and Eddie misinterprets the sudden pinch of your brow. “We don't have to,” he says quickly. “We don't have to do anything you don't wanna. Hear me?” 

He cups the side of your neck, gently, so gently, wetting the hair at your nape as his calloused fingertips brush there. His tender touch eases your sourness, and you think instead about his assertion, about the implication of what you could do with him— what you could allow him to do to you. And you know how it works. You've seen geldings mount mares before, however ineffectually; you know the wheres and the hows and the whens of it all, though your knowledge is all theoretical and in no part practical. 

But when you think about Eddie’s hot stiff flesh still pressing against your hip, about that hardness sinking between your legs, you can’t deny you’re curious. And with him… you feel safe. You feel cherished. And part of you can acknowledge how you've been yearning to know him in this intimate way for a long time.

Since the beginning of summer. 

Since before that. 

Maybe since always. 

“I want to,” you tell him, and at last, all the hesitation melts from Eddie Munson’s face. He smiles, and the stretch of his lips is sticky, forbidden, and decadent; the softness of his umber eyes is filled with simmering heat. Your best friend has been looking at you like this all summer, and you finally know what it means.

Eddie goes first, guiding you to the edge of the creek. As he does, little by little, the water recedes from your bodies, revealing more and more of his pale skin as he climbs out before you, planting his feet and holding out his hand to help you up after him. You set your smaller hand in his, and his grip is unwavering as you use what he offers you to climb out onto soft clover.

On the bank of the creek beside the weeping willow, you see all of Eddie for the first time. He is tall, lean, and still a little gangly in the length of his arms and legs like he’d been as a child, but far more solid now, with firm muscle from toiling on his family’s farm. His shoulders are broad, his neck strong, his waist narrow but padded with a healthy layer of soft fat that fills him out more than you remember. The hair on his legs and arms is sparse, same as it is on his chest, but it thickens near his belly button in a trail leading downward before spreading low on his pelvis. 

He’s at the very tail end of that transition from boyhood to manhood. And there's one part of him that's very much man— it's staring you right in the eye between his legs. Ruddy, curved, nestled in that dark thatch of untrimmed curls. You pulse with desire as you see it, heat tingling low as you shift on your feet; nevertheless, your eyes jump sheepishly from there to his face as if you’ve done something wrong.

But Eddie merely looks back at you calmly, allowing you to look at him. And when his eyes drag over your exposed skin in turn— over your breasts and soft stomach, your hips and pillowy thighs, over the curls between your legs, and even over the gentle curve of your calves where they meet your bony ankles— he looks so in awe over you that you resist the urge to cover yourself from his gaze, not wanting to take it from him.

You aren’t concerned about dirty feet or cookie crumbs when you lay with Eddie on the blanket again, the heat of his body radiating against yours as he stretches out beside you. When he cups your jaw to meet your lips with his, you relax into his touch with an ease that feels like passing through the threshold of your back door and feeling the weight of the world leave your shoulders.

Eddie’s tender touch feels like coming home.

As Eddie kisses you unhurriedly like he’s savoring every brush of tongues and smack of lips, your fingers wrap around his wrist where he still supports your head, thumb stroking against the firm veins on its tender underside. And he was right— it takes very little time for your bodies to dry in the heat, though the water in his hair lingers. Damp and cold, it brushes against your cheeks; you try to ignore the tickle, but after some time you huff sharply through your nose, pulling your lips from his with a wet pop. “Your mane’s a menace, Ed,” you say dryly, huffing again when he grabs the ends of his curls and tickles them across your neck. You scrunch your head to your shoulder, giggling through your protest. “Stop that! Be nice!” 

Eddie grins, sticky and thick again. “I am being nice,” he murmurs, dropping his hair and cupping the back of your neck to pull you closer as he descends on your lips more intently now. He rolls you over onto your back, and his hair becomes nothing more than a vague nuisance as Eddie’s kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, nipping and sucking on their path downward to draw out little breathy moans and sighs from you. He kisses from your throat to your clavicle, from the valley of your breasts to the edge of your ribs, his cold curls dragging against your nipples as he travels lower on your body. You watch him with curiosity as his lips trail over your belly button and down to your hips before he finally settles between your legs, which part only enough to make the barest amount of room for him. He glances up at you, thumb ghosting over your curls. "Can I taste you here?” he asks, eyes dark like liquid smoke, pupils nearly swallowing the iris. He stifles a groan in his throat as he looks back down, rasping, “Bet you taste so sweet." 

The suggestion feels distinctly naughty, and you rush with mortification at the idea, but above that is the hunger and the heat tinged with unmistakable excitement. “Okay,” you say, voice small, and Eddie rests his chin lightly against your pubic bone, folding his arms across your hips, very clearly ready to wait and follow your direction. 

Gently, he tells you, “If you don't like how it feels or want me to stop, just say the word, okay? I mean it.” 

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling in a smile as your chest flutters. “Okay, I will.” 

“Okay.” Eddie nods, his chin dragging against your skin as he unfolds his arms and looks down again. More hoarsely, he says, “You’re gonna have to spread your legs.” 

Slowly, you do, heart thumping as your thighs peel apart and you expose yourself to his gaze. You want to squirm in discomfort with how intently he’s looking at you, but the heat on Eddie’s face, the unadulterated excitement and want that shines in his eyes as his plush lips fall open, is undeniably thrilling. You suck in a tiny gasp when his breath ghosts hot against that intimate place, a whimper escaping at the anticipation of his mouth on you. And then there’s the faintest brush of his wet tongue, snaking just slightly between your lips; you hiccup and moan, thighs twitching against his shoulders.

“S’it ok?” Eddie’s voice puffs against your heated flesh, cooling the place he’d just licked, and you exhale shakily, pushing out your confirmation.

“Y-yes,” you say, and after a brief pause, Eddie licks you again, and again, moving his tongue more boldly with each pass. He tips his chin down, lengthening the strokes of his tongue, dragging low to high for the first time; he groans deep in his throat, and you jolt as it buzzes against your lips. “Knew it,” he mutters to himself, voice tight with desire, and you moan as he wiggles his face in closer to you, his nose parting your folds.

 It feels so good, his mouth on your special place; it begins to satisfy the hunger inside you in a way you’ve never felt before, not even when you’d dragged yourself against his thigh. You relax into the feeling as he laps at you, wet tongue broad and flat as it drags against your pussy, sparking pleasure with each pass. And the sight of his curly head between your thighs makes you bloom warm over your whole body, your belly buzzing for more, more, more. 

“Eddie,” you moan, unable to fully articulate your desire but attempting to in the way his name falls so hot and sweet from your tongue. “I want you, Eddie, please…” 

He lifts his face from between your legs to press feverish kisses up your slit to the top of your mound. You tense when he digs his nose into your curls and inhales there, breathing deeply against your hair and skin. A whimper eeks from your lips as you squirm inside with self-consciousness, legs tensed to remain still. You worry suddenly about how you must smell, how the August heat and the creek may have made you unpleasant in some way. But when Eddie’s chest rises and falls with a heavy, contented sigh, and he wraps his arms beneath the backs of your thighs, your self-consciousness fades; when he nuzzles against your curls, dragging his cheek along your mound so affectionately, you positively melt. 

“Are you sure?” Eddie murmurs, lifting his head to peek up at you. You push onto an elbow, and he kisses the pudge of your tummy as it folds when you sit up. Smiling softly, you tuck his curls behind his ear, touch lingering against the side of his face. 

“Yes,” you say, so light and delicate but oh, so sincere, “Eddie, I really want it. I want you to…” you trail off, biting your lip. His eyes darken. 

“You want me to fuck you,” Eddie says, voice hoarsened but also sticky and thick and sinfully sweet like honey. You rush with feeling all over again— shock at his language, mortification at the crudeness of it, but also thrilling anticipation that tingles low in your belly, mixing with the heat and tightening to an aching need. You nod, gasping, “Yes. Yes, I want you to do that.” 

Eddie’s moan rumbles low in his throat, and you feel it against your inner thighs where they’re pressed against his chest. He drops one last hasty kiss to your belly before unwrapping his arms from around you. You lay back against the blanket as he climbs up your body, spreading your legs so he can settle between them. Your brow pinches when he mounts you, his pelvis pressing flush with the juncture of your hips and his hardness wedged between you. He stares down at you, and the curtain of his thick curls seems to conceal the two of you from the rest of the world; the cicadas and the creek fall away as you meet his eyes.

His face is flushed, his lips swollen and wet, but his eyes are wide with concern when he shifts his weight to one hand to stroke back your hair with the other. "It might hurt at first," he says, voice soft, and you nod.

"I know," you reply, and he traces the side of your face with his thumb before lowering from his hands to brace his weight on his forearms. You take a shaky breath as his belly brushes yours with his new proximity, your vision filled only with Eddie’s pretty face. 

"But,” he continues, “I'll take care of you, okay?" He shimmies his hands under your shoulders, tucking you closer to him, and as your bodies press lightly together, you can feel him trembling. "I'll take such good care of you,” he rasps, “Always will." 

Your breath hitches in your chest, lungs burning as you well up with some emotion. Not hunger, not desire, but something more poignant. Something soft, like the down of a feather. 

“Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” you say, and your hand trails up his back, tracing the warmth of his skin almost reverently as you lift your chin to kiss him softly.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, voice wavering as he sways his hips, untucking one hand from beneath your shoulder to reach down between you. You spread your legs wider as you feel that stiffness shift, poking against you as he maneuvers it down to line up with your entrance.

Eddie kisses your lips so tenderly, and he pushes in slowly, so slowly, but nothing he could do could prevent the pain you feel when the head of his cock pops inside your entrance. He freezes as you gasp sharply at the intrusion, your lips clamping tight in a belated effort not to alarm him, though the crease in your brow tells the whole story. Eddie looks pained to see you in pain; he rains kisses down on your face, and you tangle your fingers in his damp hair to ground you as he waits until you’ve relaxed to begin moving again. As soon as he does, though, the sharp sting returns; it continues as a burning and insistent pain while Eddie stretches you open in a way you’ve never felt before. 

He starts and stops as many times as you need until his hips are flush with yours and he’s seated fully inside. He’s panting, one hand fisted in the blanket as he tries to stay so perfectly still, wincing and murmuring against your hair, "Aw, hell… I'm sorry, y/n. I'm so sorry it hurts… Don't wanna hurt you—" 

You whimper, tucking your face against his neck, and he strokes soothingly up and down your waist with his other hand until your body has adjusted and the burn has faded to a barely a pinch. You kitten lick the salt from his throat, and you enjoy the way he shivers. “I'm ready, now, Ed.” 

He lifts his head to examine your expression. “You sure?” 

“Yes,” you reply, and after a moment where his eyes dart back and forth between yours as if to check for any hesitation. He rocks his hips slightly, not pulling out, just testing to see how you respond to him moving. When you sigh with relief, he sighs with relief; when he rocks again, and you bite your lower lip, he swipes along his with a tiny dart of his pink tongue; and when you buck your hips up lightly against him, Eddie groans deep in his throat, a guttural sound of deep want that makes your chest rush hot and your nipples prickle up tight.

Eddie fucks you languidly in the heavy August heat, the chorus of cicadas blending with the soft moans and panting breaths you hush against one another’s faces. Your bodies slowly grow slick with sweat again as you move together, lips exploring lips, hands exploring skin, the steady, even rocking of his hips predictable and soothing. The slide of Eddie’s warm skin against yours, the rasp of his hair, the slick of his hot mouth against your lips, and the pressure of his hard cock inside you all build until you begin to tingle low in your belly again. As you sigh and whimper against his mouth, licking against his teeth, Eddie pushes in suddenly deep, pressing his pelvis tightly to yours and rotating his hips. Your breath catches as the head of his cock brushes against a spot that makes that tingling tighten. "Yeah?” he husks, his lips brushing yours, “That feel good?" 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, “please, don't stop.” Eddie keeps circling his hips slowly, pressing tight and groaning in satisfaction as you wrap your arms around his back, seeking to be closer. When you rotate your hips in time with his, his pubic hair rubs sparks against that sensitive spot above your opening. You whine open-mouthed, eyes heavy and glazed as you stare into his, rubbing your nose against the damp skin of his cheek. 

He nudges into your touch, murmuring, “You want more?” 

“Yes,” you pant. “More.” But when he stops circling his hips, falling still, you're quick to pout, protesting with a frown, “That's the opposite of more—” 

His hips jolt back and forward suddenly and sharply, and your back arches as he punches a moan out of you, cutting off your protest. He smirks knowingly as you cling to him, fingernails scrabbling for purchase on his sweaty back. He begins fucking you at this faster pace, a little rougher than before, and it is the more you wanted. It's more, more, more. 

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie grunts, “you feel so good inside. So tight and warm.” You whimper at his words, blooming with heat as he adds, “Wanted to do this for so long.” 

You manage a question even under the onslaught of his pounding, desperate as you are to know the answer. “H-How long?” 

Eddie’s hips falter slightly, continuing more slowly as his adam’s apple bobs. He hesitates for a moment before answering, “Since the Fourth of July party at the Byers’ when you wore that new dress.” 

You scrape your teeth against your lower lip, looking up at him with big eyes, and his head falls to your shoulder as he chuckles wryly, his hips stilling entirely. “Aw, hell. Y’look at me like that, and I can’t…” Eddie huffs, and you shiver as it puffs hot and damp against your neck. Without lifting his head, more quietly, he says, “Wanted to be with you like this ‘lot longer than that, if I’m bein’ honest.” 

You burst with flutters at the revelation— low in your belly, high in your chest, tingling in your fingertips, tightening in your scalp. The feeling is hot and hungry, soft like feathers. You gasp a shaky breath to reply in a whisper that wavers with the depth of your emotion. “Me too.” 

Eddie’s moan is broken and vulnerable as he presses a hot, urgent kiss to your throat, trailing desperately up to your mouth. He cups your face, fingers pressing in against your cheeks as his hips begin to slap with fleshy smacks against your spread thighs, his cock moving hard and hot and insistent deep inside you. And more than ever before, that feeling— the hunger, the coil in your belly, the heat between your legs— is building to something new, something intense, something that looms over you as it begins to tighten and tingle between your hips. 

It scares you. 

Your hands flutter and tap at Eddie’s shoulders as you whimper his name differently from before. "Eddie. Eddie—" 

The urgency in your voice gives him pause, and his hips fall instantly still as he cups your face, tilting your chin up as his eyes dart over you restlessly. “What’s wrong, turtle dove?” 

Your heart leaps at the nickname, and he must see the way your eyes soften because his fingertips draw gentle and featherlight along your brow, a touch of comfort and reassurance. "I don't know what's happening. I feel... strange." 

His alarm is instant. “Does it hurt?” He asks, tinged with urgent distress. "Am I hurting you?" 

"No, no," you soothe your palm along his jaw, and he lists into the heel of your hand when you cup his cheek. His concern makes you rush warm with pleasure in a different way. "It feels… I think it feels good," you clarify, feeling strangely ashamed like you shouldn't be talking about this. "But it's just… odd, I guess." 

Eddie’s face softens to match yours. "It's okay, it's supposed to feel that way.” 

Uncertainly, voice small, you ask, “You promise?” 

Eddie pulls from your hand cradling his cheek to mash his nose to the side of yours, and the huff of his chuckle brushes sweetly over your lips. It's not exasperated or amused. It's nothing but fond. Almost, you’d say, if you didn't know better... almost loving. "I promise. Never led you astray yet, have I?" 

“Well—” you start to hedge, but when he pokes your cheek aggressively with his nose, you give up the game and giggle. “No, you never have,” you say, and it’s not teasing, not wry. It's nothing but fond. Almost, you'd say, if you didn't know better... almost loving. 

Something shifts then as Eddie begins to move inside you again. There’s a certain inevitability to it as his hips pound into yours, his cock pumping hard inside you as you rock your hips to meet him. “Wanna make you feel so good, turtle dove,” he tells you, and you drink in the sound of his voice. You feel dazed, drunk, almost, entirely caught up in the feeling of Eddie all around you, inside you, tangled not just with and in your body but also with your soul.

“It does feel good,” you tell him, voice soft and thick with feminine desire. “Feels so good, Eddie.” 

Your encouragement spurs him on; his hips pump harder, his breath harshening with the effort. The inevitability grows more imminent as you feel the evidence of his exertion— the slick of his sweaty chest against your breasts and his tummy sticking to yours, the way the unrelenting rhythm of his hips begins to falter just slightly. “I’m getting close.” You look up at him, and his eyes are wide and hazy, his bangs clinging wetly to his forehead— it’s pink, with one vein throbbing over his left brow. You’re thinking idly of licking along that vein when Eddie interrupts you with a husky question. “You wanna take my seed?" 

Caught up in him entirely, you can envision only one answer. You moan at the idea, nodding frantically. "Yes, please, please, Eddie—" 

He groans gutturally at your enthusiasm. "Shit, yes. Gonna fill you and fuck it up into you all deep—" 

You whine at the filthiness of it, the forbiddenness of it, but mostly with a deep yearning for him to possess you entirely, for him to spill inside and for you to know that, even when he pulls out of your body, some of him will linger for longer. 

Eddie’s forehead dips to yours, pressing against it lightly, and you pant into his mouth. You keep your eyes open and wide, wanting to see everything— every fleck of gold and brown in his eyes, every pore, every freckle, every strand of hair in his brows, every line at the corner of his eyes. Every tiny detail of his beloved face. You watch that face start to twitch and contort, and you thrill deep in your chest. “Ed, are you about to—?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… oh, fuck—” he whines into your mouth and you gather him closer, tangling your hands in his curls as he huffs and his hips press tight against your thighs. You swallow his stuttered groan like it’s the only sustenance you need as Eddie reaches the pinnacle of his pleasure.

There’s a burst of reciprocal pleasure low in your belly when you feel him pulse and spill inside you, and as the rocking of his hips slows, your burning need and pleasure fade to a pleasant buzzing warmth. You’ve not reached that pinnacle yourself, but you are content nonetheless as Eddie falls still, panting and spent in your arms. You are sweaty, hot, and sticky in a way that would, in any other context, have you grumbling and seeking relief. But here, with Eddie’s heavy weight on top of you, his arms curling around your body to hold you close to him, and his cock softening inside you, you couldn’t muster a grumble if you tried.

Eddie rolls you onto your sides but doesn’t relinquish his grip on you, and you hold one another other until his seed starts to leak between your thighs. You stir then, and he looks down at you as you glance towards your tangled legs, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “I should wash up,” you say quietly, and reluctantly, Eddie loosens his arms so you can rise and pad over to the edge of the water. 

You’re about to crouch to cup water in your palms when a broad hand finds the small of your back, the light touch almost reverent. “Let me,” Eddie says quietly behind you; you turn, looking up into his face as he offers to cleanse you of his seed. That poignant welling of emotion, soft like the down of feathers, fills you toe to tip as he gets on his knees before you, cupping water in his palms and gently washing your sticky folds until your skin has been thoroughly cleansed.

Eddie Munson washes you off between your legs in the creek, and it feels almost more intimate than having relations with him. 

When he straightens up, you make to walk back toward the blanket, but when he lingers near the water’s edge without following, you pause and look at him curiously. Eddie pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, fidgeting as his eyes flick between yours before the words burst out of him. 

“Y’know you're my girl now, right? If you wanna be,” he adds quickly, and the blush of his cheeks, the sudden sheepish nervousness in his expression tugs at your heart.

But it’s such a silly question— if you wanna be.

Of course, you wanna be his girl. You’ve coveted Eddie Munson’s attention since he was that eight-year-old boy, odd and awkward, gangly and wild, your new neighbor next door. You’ve yearned to know him and be known by him as deeply as a best friend can, and now you’ve begun to know him in a way that, somehow, feels even more right than that.

You’ve wanted to be Eddie Munson’s girl for what feels like your whole life, now, or close to it.

“Yes,” you say, sticky and sweet and so utterly enamored with the boy standing beneath the willow at the edge of the creek. “I’ll be your girl, Eddie Munson.” 

Eddie beams so bright and beautiful that your breath shudders in your chest, a poignant squeezing of your ribcage that only intensifies as he says with reverence, almost like he can’t believe it, “You belong to me, and I belong to you.” 

You kiss him again, wrapping him up in your arms as he sways you happily back and forth. You wish it would last forever, but with a lurch in your belly, you realize the light casting Eddie’s curls in a deep amber glow is more than golden now— it's edging on orange. Hastily, you pull against his grip, and he releases you as you groan with dismay, “Aw, hell, Ed. We gotta race the sunset!” You bounce on the balls of your feet, shaking your hands by your sides as anxiety tangles in the pit of your stomach. “Mama’ll skin me alive if I’m not back before sundown!” 

Eddie’s eyes dart to the sky, widening with equal alarm. “We’ll make it,” he says breathlessly, “I got the horses, just get your clothes on!” He lurches around the willow while you rush to the blanket to pull on your rumpled chemise and button your dress, smoothing your hair and slipping on your shoes just as he’s miraculously finished saddling both horses, already dressed. You’re impressed until you hurry closer and realize Eddie’s suspenders are twisted thrice each and his shirt is buttoned one-off from the top. 

You sigh and tug him closer by the trousers, and he stumbles as you briskly unwind his suspenders and rebutton his shirt. 

“Much obliged,” Eddie pants breathlessly, his lips curled in a delighted smile as you tend to him. His beam widens when you duck your head, going shy under the intensity of his gaze; Eddie cups your cheeks and kisses you wild and hard, leaving you dazed for a moment as he hoists himself deftly onto Merlin’s saddle. “Betcha I’ll beat you back,” he says, towering above you atop his giant horse— your best friend, roguish and mischievous, clever and brash, beautiful in the deepening light. 

A wicked grin blooms on your lips as you look up at him, grasping hold of Guinnie’s mane and cantle to pull yourself up smoothly beside him. “Betcha you won’t,” you counter, and with a squeeze of your thighs, you rise to the challenge. 

You ride Guinnie hard and fast through the forest, racing Eddie until you both burst together from the treeline onto the field at the edge of Mr. Hopper’s property. In the distance, you can see the tall fence that separates your farmstead from his, the red house that he calls home sticking from the earth beside the blue shingles of your own, in permanent company with one another. You expect Eddie to call the game over now, but he tosses a smirk over his shoulder at you, his curls whipping as Merlin rears and gallops on, spurred by a whoop of boyish delight.

Your legs will be sore tomorrow, and between your legs will be sore too. But as the sun sets on this August day and you ride through the fields, chasing the young man you cherish, and the bugs erupt in puffs like clouds from the tall grass, you’ve never felt so known, nor so damn alive.

#blueywrites #TD&TC #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x f!reader #stranger things fanfiction #st fanfic #eddie munson imagine #farmer!eddie munson

[mysticmunson]

walls of jericho (e.m.)

summary: eddie's guard has been up for everyone, but you make his reservations tremble, and he doesn't know what to think of that.

authors note: hi i wrote this and it's very angsty. the semester is finally done so i'll hopefully be around more :) much love. xx elora. (my blog is 18+)

warnings: allusions to smut, angst, eddie being bad w emotions :( (there’s a happy ending) eddie is 22 and reader is 21 :)

thank u to my loves @lilacletter @bimbobaggins69 and @andvys who i spoke about this fic with! :D

As soon as the words left your mouth, Eddie thought he was dreaming, that you weren’t sitting on his bed and timidly asking him a question he never expected. You nervously twisted the hem of your black cotton skirt, not daring to look into his eyes that widened with surprise.

“Will you take my virginity, Eds?”

He knew you were having a hard time intimately as you told him almost everything, with a few failed dates ending with a peck on the cheek. As you both grew older, it became more embarrassing for you to be so inexperienced, even if he assured you it was fine.

Perhaps it was a stupid idea that shouldn’t have been announced, but his response made it even worse after he was assured you were being serious.

“Only if nothing changes then okay.”

His hands roamed to uncharted territories, feeling how your skin warmed beneath him and your breath staggered. His lips touched yours for the first time after years of only meeting the apples of your cheeks.

Your voice bounced from your chest as he entered you, the soft hymns of your pleasure clashing with the harshness of his room. He hushed your winces as you accommodated to his latex-covered cock, never more vulnerable than at this minute. 

His bister eyes bore into yours, mouths agape as your breath exchanged for gasps, while he was applying pressure to the bundle of nerves beneath your navel. Bliss arose from thin air as you finished, his hips stuttering shortly after as some of his body weight remained on you. 

As his nose pressed to your ear, he knew he fucked up, but he couldn’t bring himself to move until you squirmed. Rolling to his side, he didn’t meet your gaze that shot at the side of his cheek. 

“How was it?” You asked meekly, pulling his sheets to your chest to cover yourself, adjusting to the viability of his old pillow. 

“Good, you’ll make a dude real happy.” He quipped, staring at the popcorn ceiling above him, not daring to welcome the immense warmth he felt coating his gut. He told himself it was because he was in orgasmic bliss and that he knew you’d delight someone with your body.

The night went on after clothes returned to both of your bodies, he noticed your abnormally quiet demeanor, but decided you must be a little shocked at the recent events until you went to leave.

“You make me happy, Eddie.”

He shrugged, mumbling a ‘you too’ as he yanked off his shirt from today and put on an older band tee with a hole on one of the seams. He’d remove his sweatpants once you left.

“No, Eds, I mean… You make me really happy, I like you.” You spoke, sounding celestial in a cream-white blouse. With the look he gave you during sex, it gave you the motivation to speak your mind, but now with his silence, it felt grim. “Please say something.”

His back was to you now, looking down at the wrinkled sheets, cursing the fact he let it get this far. He couldn’t face his emotions now, he needed to be alone.

“You didn’t say anything.” He stated coldly, but you awaited some hope, that this couldn’t be the result. “The one thing I said was that nothing changed.”

“Nothing has changed, Eddie, it’s just-” You consoled, but the burn behind your iris’ were betraying you.

“No!” He snapped, turning to face you with beet-red cheeks, “I told you no feelings, don’t try to make me the bad guy. You’re my best friend and we need to agree that you didn’t just say that, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that he stomped to his front door and swung it open, waiting for your heavy footsteps to leave in embarrassment. His head hit the door as it shut, biting his lip and clenching his eyes shut. It was for the best, he’s doing this for both of you.

That was hard to believe as he heard your choked cry before your car purred, pulling from the trailer park until it became a small light near the highway. Grabbing a beer, he switched on a record and took off his pants. 

He lit the rolled blunt tucked in his bedside table and took a deep hit, feeling his fingers tingle as he vanished into the thrashing of Steven Duren through his boombox. The walls of Jericho etched inside of his mind teetered, but never fell and he wouldn’t let that happen.

The barriers within him remained stagnant as he went through the next week, remaining his chaotic self on the battlefields of Hawkins. He showed up full of energy for Hellfire, only earned one day of detention, and sold to more clients than normal.

Meanwhile, the drive home was one of the most humiliating moments of your life, trudging inside your apartment and getting in the shower. It was foolish to believe he liked you this way, just based on how kind he was with you. Your stomach churned at the thought of him looking at other women as he did to you, that every ounce of sincerity you believed was contrived.

The week came and went as you worked and caught up on school, focusing on that instead of on yourself. How sometimes you could smell his cologne from his presence weeks ago, feeling the grazing embrace at encompassed your shaking frame only to be left alone in your bedroom.

You had called Robin and Steve to catch up as they missed movie night the Friday before, the night you and Eddie became closer then further than ever. The diner floors were freshly waxed, your shoes announced your presence before you could say hello.

“Hey, what’s up?” Robin questioned as you sat, “Where’s Freakazoid?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, grabbing the plastic-covered menu, and looking at the fake images of the food that wouldn’t hit your table. The mention of Eddie made you queasy, anxiously pondering if every time you left your apartment is when he would call, but each time, the call log remained barren.

“What? You two are inseparable, I thought you held hands when you pissed.” Steve joked, but was genuinely curious about the metalhead’s disappearance. 

Robin and Steve hadn’t seen Eddie since last week when he returned a VHS copy of a western that Wayne liked. Nothing seemed peculiar and they told him why they couldn’t make it to movie night a few days later as Robin got a B on her calculus test. Her grades seemed to be the one thing her mother focused on, so she was grounded aside from work. 

Your continued silence made them confused further, looking at one another to see if there was a missing component, but nothing was transmitted. A waitress came by to collect your order before heading off, coming back briefly to give you your drink.

“What happened?” Steve asked, noticing your shoulders tensing and scratching at your collarbone. 

The humility was consuming you, unable to pick up your phone and call him, the number you knew by heart. The self-confidence that you had been working on vanished over a few sentences, your face shoved into your pillow as you drifted into the white noise.

“Nothing, just needed some space.” You disclosed, revealing the slight truth without too much of the bigger picture. 

“Lies. Lies. Lies.” Robin bites with no malice, sipping her Dr. Pepper from the glass cup, “You’re acting weird, don’t act weird, that’s hair’s job.” Steve elbowed her arm at the dig, scoffing as he drank his Coke, fidgeting with his watch. 

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue, knowing it would feel better to remove it from your sole subconscious, but it also held a bomb. One that would reveal the intimacies, your naivety, and Eddie’s coldness. The two were a sarcastic pairing, but they weren’t cruel.

“Eddie and I slept together, my first time.” You mumbled, looking at the gold dainty rings on your fingers before up as Steve choked on his drink, not expecting the answer. He would’ve heard of it from his friend, surely, but he also knew you wouldn’t lie.

“What the- So what happened?” Robin caught herself, seeing your defeated expression as you drew shapes on the table with your fingers.

The hardest part became lodged in your throat, constantly in an internal battle of if Eddie was being cruel or honest or some odd combination. His words were blunt, but he began with them. It was you who spoke out of turn, but it felt so cruel.

“I told him I liked him,” You whispered, the wavering in your voice rising, “He told me we agreed on no feelings and that he wouldn’t be made the bad guy. He made me agree that I never said anything, but he hasn’t spoken to me since.” 

 Looking dumbfounded, the pair opened their mouths to provide comfort, but the waitress returned with their meals. For Robin, a plate of pancakes, and for you and Steve, two burgers and fries. Grabbing the ketchup, you tapped the bottom of the glass to slide some out.

“Shit, Y/N,” Robin breathed out, eyes still widened, “I’m sorry that’s-“

 The sound of your drink hitting the table ceased her reply, though the action wasn’t done with intention on your part. 

“No, no. I shouldn’t have said anything, he said from the beginning he didn’t…” You trailed, eating a fry to push the wail down your scratching throat, “Like me.”

Wiping his mouth with the white napkin, Steve scoffed, pointing in your direction. “Don’t, he’s being a total jackass! He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” 

Nodding, you let Robin divert the conversation to something else that consumed her mind, more than happy to think of anything, but those brown eyes looking in yours. Halfway through a story about an interesting couple that made their way to the beaded back section of Family Video, you excused yourself to the restroom. 

Waiting a brief moment, neither one of them could hold back the commentary they desperately wanted to spill, but refraining for your own well-being. 

“What is his problem!” Robin scoffs, shoving a syrup-covered bite in her mouth, “He had to have known how she felt, I mean, she’s not exactly the best about holding her love back.”

It was true, you were affectionate to people you cared for, and Eddie was one of your closest friends. You had seen him at his lowest and highest, for every midnight drive and stroll in the mall. You didn’t falter your affection when kids began to tease you both with Eddie receiving the brunt, choosing to stay at his side. 

The feelings were contemplated for years, many mocking your demeanor in which you would shrug off their teasing. But the constant reminder of how you did act differently with him lingered until one day you sat across from him silently as he wrote out his latest DnD campaign that you knew. It scared you, but somehow being hurt by him would be okay in your mind if it meant you could have him briefly.

“It’s weird as hell, man. I’m gonna talk to him, it’s not fair to her.” Steve mused, sympathizing with the abandonment of a first lover not reciprocating their feelings.

While Steve’s first had been a random girl at a party, he still experienced immense pain sitting beside her in geometry. He didn’t even want to conceptualize the pain you must be enduring, hoping it would vanish rather than fester. 

After you returned, the discussion resumed about strange customers and annoying strangers until there were only crumbs and reminisce of syrup. 

Waving goodbye, you went back home, the quiet car ride reminding you too much of that day just last week that had you crying all over again. 

Steve dropped Robin off at home before driving to Forest Hills with Eddie’s van nowhere to be seen. Groaning, he smacked the steering wheel, now deadset on finding his friend before the sun went down. 

As he went through town, he looked for the car, stumbling across the record store sticker between a Radio Shack and Dairy Queen. Spotting his target, he pulled into the parking lot and headed inside, the dust swirling as the wind brushed past the old types of vinyl. 

A girl with long black hair was talking to Eddie, feeling his muscles through his leather jacket and fluttering her eyelashes. He watched as she noticed the time, scribbling down a series of numbers.

“I’d love to see you play sometimes, I’ve heard great things about going backstage.” She purred, her voice becoming louder as Steve snuck closer, only appearing when she had vanished.

Grabbing the small paper from his friend's hand, he shoved it in his pocket and crossed his arms. He resembled an upset parent, too tired to deal with bullshit, but caring too much to let it go unnoticed. 

“Hey! Man, what the fuck?” Eddie exasperated, holding his arms up, “Give me that.” 

“No, not until you explain why the hell you’d say that to her.” Steve stated, raising his brows in anticipation. 

What excuse could he possibly give for viciously rejecting his best friend and having a random girl touching him up in a public place, all within days. 

“What? How did you even hear, I thought it was just the two of us in here until you showed up! Honestly thought she’d give me head in the bathroom-“ Eddie began smugly, smirking at how she came onto him on her own accord.

“Oh my God, I don’t care about her, I mean our best friend who’s been crying for a week.” Steve clarified, grimacing at his words.

He didn’t miss as his friend’s face went slightly pale, arms falling to his side, looking to the side at the selection of 1960s hits. 

“It’s none of your business, nothing even happened.” He huffed, turning on his heels before his Reeboks scuffed out of the old building, but Steve was hot on his tail. He never realized how broad his friends' strides were until now, barely able to climb into his passenger door unwarrantedly.

Eddie huffed, his finger tapping against the leather steering wheel cover that was beginning to peel. Steve stared at his profile, anticipating some form of reaction that would involve a yell, but the silence felt heavier.

“Get out of my car, man.” Eddie sighed, looking over at his friend, “I wanna go home and smoke.”

Steve shrugged, stepping from the van and slamming the door, retreating back to his BMW. He clicked the button before pulling away, leaving Eddie in the parking lot with the other older cars.

Truthfully, Eddie should’ve anticipated that Steve wouldn’t give up that easily. So when the BMW pulled into the trailer park moments after Eddie had, he acted annoyed, but let him inside anyways. 

“Don’t be stingy, I want hits too.” Steve said, walking behind him and into his room which had clothes scattered against the ground and beer cans on the dresser. 

“Don’t get fucking pushy, Harrington, why should I give you my good weed?” Eddie questioned, biting words as he pulled out his grinder.

Sitting beside the other man, he began twisting the silver container, hearing the small blades slice the fresh bud that he could smell.

“I just want to know what happened, calm the fuck down. And I should get your good weed because my high school parties made you so much money!” Steve retorted, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, making sure his shoes hung off the bed.

This was true, Eddie was able to help Wayne with bills during high school because of their unspoken deal. Steve would keep the assholes away from Hellfire if Eddie sold him good weed and sold the rest at Steve’s parties. It was a just arrangement and became the building blocks of a peculiar friendship.

The pair sat with just the sound of the old AC machine filling the space as Eddie took rolling paper and set it on his thigh. Years of practice came in handy, assembling the blunt in record-breaking time and lighting it with the lighter from his right pocket. 

Taking a hit, Steve remembered why he used to smoke frequently, it was soothing. Definitely much easier to take than alcohol which left him groggy and nauseous the following morning.

“So?” Steve began as his friend's shoulders visibly tensed, taking a deep drag and holding it in his chest before it seeped through his cracked lips. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie falsely assured, picking at a piece of skin beside the nail of his middle finger, and looking down at his lap.

“Cut the crap, dude.” Steve snapped, but regained slight composure at the reminder that Eddie would likely not respond well to hostility, “She told me and Robin what happened.”

The forced laugh sounded bizarre, but he kept up the facade of being annoyed with you for being hurt. In reality, the thought that you went to someone else with a problem instead of him gnawed at him, but it was only because he was the problem.

“I told her from the beginning I didn’t want anything to change, it wasn’t a crime.” Eddie scoffed, gulping when he remembers the disappointment in your eyes, a similar one being in his friends.

He feels a set of chills when he faintly hears your cries from outside his front door in the back of his mind, the smoke on the exhale burning more than usual. He kicked off his tennis shoes, thudding on the floor and rolling twice over. Crossing his legs. he picked at the cut on his hand-ripped jeans.

Steve looked at his friend in silence, the smoke blurring some of his features in the dim light of his room. He wanted to get angry at his words, but he had known him for a few years now and knew there were layers to his emotional presentation.

“What did she say?” Eddie caves, hearing the thumping against his chest in an anxious manner, taking another hit to combat the nerves.

“She said you took her virginity and when she said she liked you, you said you agreed no feelings, that you wouldn’t be made into the bad guy, and that you both need to pretend she didn’t say it.” Steve sighed as his friend winced subtly at the venom in those words, the awaited guilt bubbling, “Remember how Mary made you feel?”

Eddie’s throat constricts at the mention of the mysterious woman he met one night at a bar near Indianapolis, a spur-of-the-moment road trip to see a band he liked when he came across Mary. She had no idea he was seen as a loser and that he was a virgin, she came onto him and he was thriving.

After a quick fuck in the back of his van, he felt overwhelmed as she slipped out the door. His face was flushed as he adjusted his clothes, tossing the condom in a plastic bag he got from the gas station. When he asked if she wanted his phone number, she laughed, pulling down her shirt.

“I don’t roll like that, loverboy.” And she was gone. The intimacy they shared made him believe this was unlike any other time, that she truly was becoming infatuated with him, but she left without a trace.

He hoped he’d be able to win her over until she saw her going into another guy's car, speeding off to the sound of Aerosmith. 

The memory upset him, he didn’t like being vulnerable during sex afterward, only doing quick fucks where they both understood what they were agreeing to. The mere mention of her name put him back in that spot, sitting in silence as he watched her walk back into the club.

“That’s not the same thing.” Eddie cringed, passing the weed to his friend who took the final hit before putting it out in the ashtray. Despite the alleviating drug, they both felt the pressure of the actions and the reciprocations.

“You’re right, it’s not,” Steve accepted, giving his friend confusion for a moment, “It’s actually much fucking worse.” 

Eddie’s blood began to boil as his insecurity soared, Steve was one of the only people who knew about the incident with Mary, and he only discovered it after Eddie accidentally revealed he wasn’t a virgin anymore. He tried to avoid the harsh rejection, but it was hard to explain the story without it.

“No, it was not, asshole!” Eddie rejected, crossing his arms like a petulant child, that resentment of that night and every time someone left him hanging knotted in his body.

“Really? It’s not?” Steve taunted as Eddie shook his head, “Fucking a stranger and them leaving is worse than being your best friend’s first, someone who stood by you through every time you got yourself into trouble, and when they opened up, you raised your voice at them and said they never said anything?”

The reality of Eddie’s words swiftly made him lose his breath, running a hand through his curls, catching on one of his gaudy rings. Removing his finger, he pulled it from his hair, fiddling with the silver band with a small bat engraving.

The ring had been a gift on Eddie’s 16th birthday from you, secretly saving up most of your money from your summer job to pay for it, and one he never took off. 

“Why’d you say it?” Steve asked gently, “It’s not like you man, especially not with her.”

“The last thing I need is to lose her, the greedy part of me couldn’t stomach the thought of her being with someone else either.” He revealed, inadvertently revealing his feelings, “No one would’ve treated her right for her first time.”

“I know you don’t want to tell me how you feel, but you need to tell her. What you did was really fucked up.” Steve added, “It’s okay to be scared, but it’s not fair to hurt people who weren’t. She worked up a lot of courage to do that.”

The mention of courage almost broke his composure, recalling every time you mentioned being terrified of rejection. That your crush on Matthew in freshman year ended terribly when someone told him your feelings, leading to him mocking you in front of everyone.

He hated that he was added to the list of men who did you wrong, even after wanted to beat up every single one before him. He needed to make this write somehow or, at least, soften the aftermath. He had to be something he grew to despise, vulnerable.

Days went by before Eddie finally found the strength to approach you, a sick feeling in his belly that he couldn’t shake as every night passed. He approached your door Thursday evening, his boots sounding against the hollow apartment hallway. He ignored the hidden key by his foot as he knocked, one he would’ve used weeks ago.

The door flew open, the breeze blowing some of the hairs from your glowing face, resting your shoulder against the wood. He fought the urge to slump his shoulders when he saw your face slightly fall, mouth opening to see the tip of your teeth.

“Hey, kid, can we talk?” He adjured, his leather jacket making his skin heat further under the nerves.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You murmured, moving back to allow him in, shutting the door behind him as you went to the living room.

The room was spacious, with a couch from the 70s you had found at a garage sale that Eddie helped you transport it to your home, decorated with blankets and pillows, and a boxy television.

Both of you sat down on the couch, your bare knee touching his denim-clad one, but to his dismay, you move it quickly. He watches as you fidget with your fingers, looking down at your lap.

“How are you?” He asked, scratching his collarbone that had been exposed by his stretched shirt collar. 

“I’m fine,” You nodded, “How are you?”

The response was polite, but it wasn’t you. The tight-lipped smile was a facade, not comparable to the radiance your laugh exuted. 

“M’okay, wanted to talk to you though.” He replied, turning towards you with a knee on the cushion.

“Okay, I just have a, uh, date tonight so it can’t be too long.” You disclosed, turning towards him as his face dropped, the blood in his veins freezing.

Opening his mouth to respond, he nodded, beginning to play with the rings on his fingers. 

A date. You have a date. How could he interject this? What good is it to pour his heart out when you have someone getting ready to see you. He wasn’t one to harbor regrets, but now, he wished more than ever that he hadn’t done what he did. 

In that same vein, he also knew he was shit at masking something he cared about when looking them in the eyes. He couldn’t walk out of here with that same weight on his chest. He needed to wrap it in a bow and leave it at your feet as you chose to share it or throw it away. No matter what, it wasn’t just his anymore.

“I’ve been a dick,” Eddie conceded, “I’m sorry for running last week, you didn’t deserve that. I fucked up.”

Even when mad at him, he watched as you softened at his self-depreciation, something you fought with him about. It scared him sometimes when he would realize just how much power you gave one another with the other.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. At all.” He expresses, the intensity not waning, “As weird as it sounds, I got angry because I knew I felt the same, but I know me. I know my track record, how nothing good ever lasts, and how I screw it up eventually. I- I just can’t lose you.”

Looking at him with a perplexed stare, he saw you contemplating if he was being genuine. You never doubted his sincerity till now, but he could understand why.

“You’re incredible, I don’t know why you’ve been my friend for so long, and why you would let me be your first time.” He exhaled, the faintest smile that didn’t brush his dimples, “You excite me, enchant me, but you scare me.”

Standing to pace, he ran a hand through his valleys of curls, “You scare me because when I was inside you and any other time before, I couldn’t fucking think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” The tears he hadn’t released in years burned as he choked, avoiding your eyesight.

“I know you have a date, so I’m going to go, but I-” He stopped when he saw your feet near his. 

He looked up just before you met his lips, hugging him like a vice as he returned it, trapping each other. The shock of what you were doing was prevalent as his lip quivered, hungrily meeting yours.

“I like you too, Eddie. That didn’t change.” You murmured against him as he said a quick reply and kissed you, “I’ve liked you for longer than I’d like to admit.”

Not giving you time to jump, he yanked up your thighs that soon wrapped around his waist. He, thankfully, knew the inside of your apartment like the back of his hand and found your bedroom quickly.

Before he set you down, he pulled away, almost moaning at your puffy lips and glistening eyes. 

“What about your date?” 

The warmth rose to your cheeks as you pulled yourself closer to his chest, staring downwards. “I lied, I just wanted to see you jealous.”

The fake squawk of repulsion from him made you bite back a smile, seeing his brown eyes enlarged and his pink lips expanded. He dropped you to your bed suddenly, but his body covered yours soon after. 

“Well, mission accomplished, I wanted to slash his tires.” He rolled his eyes, but smiled at your giggle, “You’re an absolute, menace.” 

As the laughter subsided, the look in his eyes softened as the walls of Jericho fell to rubble. You could see the soft slivers of light brown within, the glass-like quality of the eyes you could see with your own closed.

Pushing his hair back from his face as he did yours, it was almost like seeing one another for the first time. Practically every other aspect of yourselves had been revealed to one another except that one small part. The part that contained the future you had no idea existed yet. 

It was in that moment he felt complete tranquility, that everything he fought so hard to protect was safely nestled within your grasp, but he also knew you had been holding it for quite some time now.

“I want you to make love to me, Eddie.” You whispered, your breath fanning his face and stroking all stress-driven crease etched on him.

His agreement was sealed with his mouth, kissing down your neck, lingering on the sensitive points that derived a louder whimper than the one before it. As your eyes fluttered closed, a sharp bite hit your earlobe, making you squeal.

“Eds!” You squirmed, but it was no match for when he placed all his body weight on top of you with a laugh that vibrated you.

“That’s for getting me riled up about your nonexistent boyfriend.” He teased, kissing behind your jaw, rubbing his nose against the soft skin.

“I mean, now I do have a boyfriend.” You sighed, turning your head to meet his throat as he rose, cheek pressing to your forehead. Your lips were so delicate, the scraps of lip balm went to his reddened neck, nibbling on his collarbone.

“Really? Who?” He joked, expecting an extravagant response as he had given you, but he was always surprised by you.

The legs on the bed quickly wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against your core and hands went up his shirt, nails scratching his broad back just enough to leave a temporary mark.

Moaning unabashedly, he buckled his hips against you, fist tightening. Sitting up he tossed his shirt to the ground, smirking as you looked at his body in awe, licking your lips. 

He stood to pull off his jeans, getting his right foot stuck in the tight material. Kicking it off in frustration, you watched fondly at his struggle, removing your own clothes until clad in undergarments.

When freed from the denim, he was about to crawl on top of you before he scanned your body, mumbling a blend of curses. Yet, you sat with a shy smile, giggling at his affections toward you. 

“Oh, you’re gonna ruin me, kid.”

hi im giving you a hug.

#elora writes #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson gif #corroded coffin #wayne munson #stranger things 4 #st fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson au #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #stranger things au #eddie munson fic

[bifuriouswaterbender]

@steddieholidaydrabbles is doing some warm up rounds. This is for the Round One prompt "High School or College AU," rated T, 685 words.

"You sure your roommate won't mind?" Robin had asked.

"No," Steve had answered automatically. "He's cool."

Maybe that was proving incorrect because while they'd already been asleep curled up together in Steve's bed when Eddie got home, this morning he was being incredibly weird about it.

"You didn't leave a sock or text me or anything," Eddie hissed in his ear when Robin was using the en-suite bathroom that Steve praised for existing every single day.

He'd done the communal shower thing for sports in high school. He didn't mind avoiding it now.

Steve just shrugged and kept digging in his dresser for a shirt he knew Robin had jokingly tucked in his bags before they'd moved in. "I didn't need to. We weren't doing anything but sleeping."

"Right." Eddie sounded doubtful, but Steve ignored him.

He knocked on the bathroom door. "Got a shirt for you."

It opened a crack and Robin's arm stuck through like some kind of little raccoon. Steve laughed as he handed it over.

The door shut firmly behind him, he turned back around, surprised at the look on Eddie's face. "What?"

Eddie shrugged and flopped down in his desk chair, barely avoiding hitting his head on the underside of his bed. "I dunno, I guess I'm just surprised."

"By what?"

Eddie's eyes darted to the door before settling back at Steve. "I mean this definitely doesn't feel like it was a random hookup or anything."

Steve snorted. "It definitely wasn't."

Eddie nodded, his face grim. He dropped his voice as he said, "And that means you've put me in a fucked up and really awkward place, man. You talk all the time about going out and maybe finding somebody at a party to hook up with. I don't think you really have hooked up with anyone, but am I supposed to keep that a secret from your girlfriend?"

Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times before getting out, "Girlfriend?" Then he lost it.

The bathroom door opened behind him, and Steve heard Robin move closer. "What's so funny?" she asked.

Eddie looked stricken, but Steve managed to get out between his chuckles, "Eddie thinks we're dating."

Steve turned to see her face directly, and the priceless way she wrinkled her nose in disgust sent him into another wave of laughter, this one hard enough to force tears from his eyes.

"What the fuck," Eddie deadpanned.

"Sorry," Steve sputtered, even as Robin shook her head.

"We're not dating," she said flatly.

"I, um, am gathering that," Eddie said, his eyes rapidly flicking between them.

"Platonic," Robin said.

"With a capital P," Steve added, still wheezing.

"Besides," Robin continued, "I'm not interested in men. I'm a lesbian."

For a moment, the room was still. Then Steve found himself throwing her into a hug. "I'm so proud of you! Oh my god, you said it in front of someone!"

Robin's face turned pink, but she hugged him back. "Yeah, and you're kinda ruining that moment, dingus."

Steve sobered up immediately. He pulled back but didn't let go of her completely. With the way she leaned against his side, Steve had to assume she approved. "Sorry." He turned his gaze back to Eddie. "Well?"

Eddie, clearly unsure how he was supposed to react, blurted out, "I'm gay."

"Really?"

Robin elbowed Steve in the side for that, but he stayed focused on Eddie's panicked expression.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Eddie asked. He moved like he was trying to sound tough, but it did not come out that way.

Steve felt a stab of guilt for making him think he might be in danger.

"No, absolutely not!" Steve insisted. "I'm bisexual!"

This time Robin squealed. She was in his face before Steve could even process Eddie's reaction. "And now I'm proud of you!" she declared. "Have you told anybody but me? That's so awesome!"

Steve made eye contact with Eddie around her as a slow smile spread across his roommate's face.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I think it is."

With the way Eddie was looking at him now, it was going to be.

#steddie #stobin #st fanfic #st microfic #steddie fanfic #steddie microfic #my writing #my fanfic

[jamilelucato]

blue - 001

show: Stranger Things [SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4]

pairing: female reader x peter ballard

summary: growing up in the lab with Dr Brenner for a father wasn't easy, but you had a friend that made things a bit tolerable.

It wasn’t easy being the daughter of Dr Martin Brenner, but you did your best to please him. He was a very systematic man, who wished to control everything and everyone as he saw fit, and you had no problem following orders, except that it was clear your father was setting you up for failure. He never made a secret that he did not like that you were born a female, not a male, and you guessed that was the reason behind all of his impossible requests he kept on making, always wanting more of your brain than it could ever learn.

That was the reason why you grew old in his lab in Hawkins— he expected you to follow him around like a loyal dog, and you were generally making notes on the things you saw in there.

It was no surprise to you when he asked for your presence to see something that had arrived at the lab. “A new subject,” he had called the boy, not as if dad was king and, the boy, his commoner, but as if the boy was a school subject, as it was what your father envisioned the boy to be to you.

“Come on in, daughter,” he said, getting up from where he was sitting. “This is number one.”

You walked in slowly, scared. You were barely ten, but smarter than most teens, but at that moment, you felt like a little dear, scared for his life. You stared at the boy sitting in front of where your father was and you were shocked to find a calm boy. You expected to see someone as scared as you, or even more, but no. Number 001, as your father called him, was serene, and he stared back at you like he could see your very soul.

“Number one, this is my daughter, [y/n] Brenner,” your father made the room so you could sit in the chair he once sat in. “Get familiar with her, as she is to be your future doctor, once she graduates.”

The boy stared back at your father. His head movement was weird as if he was used to having some hair to move when looking up, but there was no hair on top of his head, just his buzzcut.

“I’ll let you two get to know each other, as I’m sure my daughter can enlighten you about who I am,” was the last thing your father said before leaving and locking the door behind.

You gulped, forcing yourself to stop facing the door and look back at the boy.

He looked your age, maybe just a bit older. 

“My name is not one,” he said, breaking the silence with a rasping voice.

“I’m sorry?”

He smiled, not showing his teeth. It was as if he found pleasure in seeing you confused.

“My name’s Henry.”

“Was,” you corrected him because that was expected. You knew that even though your father left, he could be watching you two, by the mirror windows or even the cameras. You learned long ago that they were everywhere in the lab. “You’re not Henry anymore.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Then, the quietness came again. No one uttered a word. You were still nervous, gulping by the second, but the boy just laid back, watching. You didn’t like the silence, it made you overthink.

“You can call me just by [y/n], you know,” you said.

“Not a doctor then?”

“Oh, as much as my Papa likes to brag, I’ll only graduate high school next year. I still have a while before getting hold of my doctored degree.”

“Graduating high school?” that seemed to surprise him.

You couldn’t help but smile. It was a hard life, studying like crazy and not ever getting complimented, but you liked knowing you were a genius. “I am young as I look, but as my father’s daughter, I must be at the top of not just my class, but everyone else’s.”

“Must be exhausting,” he replied, looking away. 

He wasn’t expecting you to agree in a whisper. “It is.”

Both of you exchanged a knowing look. Maybe there was not much knowledge of each other, but there was of yourselves. You knew you weren’t gonna have an easy life, and he knew he was destined for one difficult as well. Doomed, was the word, but back then, you didn’t know. You just didn’t know.

~~

“Sorry I’m late, P,” you said, sitting down on the white floor.

Everything was white at that goddam lab, but you were used to it, or at least, it didn’t bother you as much as it did in the beginning. 

Your friend Henry, or as you nicknamed him Peter, was the Number 001, and he was already in the room, sitting on the floor at the very same spot you two had found for each other. It was nice being able to just sit on the ground, and not care about getting dirty, as if there was any chance of that happening in the lab. It was simple and it put you two on the same level, which was true even if your papa wouldn’t agree.

Before getting your doctorate, you and Henry were not much of friends, although you supposed you were each other’s closest person in each life. Peter had access to the other kids, the other numbers, but they were just babies, while you spent your life alone, guided solely by Dr Brenner, your father. It was lonely for both of you, and once you had your degree in your hands, you decided to get closer to the boy who was always staring you around when you came down to the lab.

At first, your father did not approve of your specialization in psychology, but once he started filling the lab with children, he realized your diploma was very much in need, and he gave you a room, so you could listen and take notes on each of the kids’ complaints.

And even though number 001 was no longer a kid, he still had a scheduled hour with you, every Tuesday and Thursday.

When he walked in, for his first appointment ever, you were as nervous as he was shocked to see you. You had only turned eighteen, but he was about to be nineteen, and a lot had changed. Yeah, you saw each other grow up, but not as frequently as the hearts would hope, and a lot had changed.

You were one of them now, at least it was how he saw you that very first Tuesday. You were dressed in white, with your hair fixed in a tight ponytail. There were no more pink and yellow dresses. And he had changed too. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his light blue eyes, and he was way taller than you. 

You remembered him being cold, scared to talk. Of course, he did not lose his posture of serenity, as if he was always the most intelligent one in every room he walked in. 

Neither of you remembered how or when it all changed, how you two came to agree with sitting on the floor and sharing your lunch (you always brought something tasty from the outside, something the kids would never have access to). Something had happened — maybe a look you shared or a word he spoke, neither of you could point at the thing, but both were very glad it had happened.

Peter looked forward to his appointments with you, for it was the only hour he had to be himself, to feel free. Yes, your room was as white as the rest of the place, but when it was just the two of you behind the closed door, suddenly, it felt coloured. It felt rainbowy.

“It’s okay. It’s not like I’m not used to being alone,” he said, jokingly, and you pushed him with your left hand while he laughed. “You shouldn’t…” he had to pause because he was laughing too hard “... push me like this, Dr; I’m sure your father won’t like it.”

“Papa?” you echoed. It was funny now that you were twenty to call him papa because that was the very nickname Dr Brenner was forcing the kids, the other numbers, to call him. Well, the word was not funny per se, as it was more weird than comic. “Papa can’t see in here,” you said, smiling, “so I just kill you and it won’t matter.”

Peter smiled again, that beautiful smile that always heated your heart. His hair was growing again, out of his buzzcut, as you noticed it happened way faster than with the other kids. It was so unfair, you thought, for he had the most beautiful golden hair. You were thankful the numbers had a schedule for haircuts, and Peter had to wait for the day with the others, instead of being taken to cut it earlier, because then it allowed you moments like that one, where you could see some locks fighting to grow.

You took advantage of his silence to inform some news.

“I’ve been talking to him, you know. I think… I think he will allow it, P. He’ll let you be a worker here, not just…”

“Don’t say patient,” he quickly interrupted you, knowing very well you hated to use ‘subject’ even though it was way better than ‘prisoner’, which he was.

You stared at him, focusing on every detail of his blue eyes.

You didn’t understand what happened to you two, why were you like this… How did you become friends? And is that the ideal word for the two of you?

Unlike most of the other numbers, Number One had a childhood outside the lab. He got to know some customs of American society, customs that used to reveal themselves without him realizing it. You liked those moments—when he referenced some ‘50s song, or even when he opened the door and let you out first. Most of the other kids couldn’t even form a sentence properly—and they were barely aware of some American habits and customs. It was like talking to little Tarzans, rescued from the forest.

“Sometimes... do you sometimes think about your life before?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Stop analyzing me,” he said, pretending to be angry, but he knew very well that the question had been asked by [y/n] and not by Dr [y/n] Brenner. He was avoiding answering you, which probably meant that yes, he often thought about it. When he was Peter, though he was still Peter when he walked into your room. He’d never be Number One there — you would never allow it. “I think of my father.”

You gulped, nervously, just like you used to do when you were a kid. 

There wasn’t much you knew about Peter’s life before he met your father, but you knew enough. He killed his parents, or at least he tried to kill his father, but only managed to end his mother and sister. You never knew his motives, for he never talked about it. All the info you had was given by your father, but he didn’t usually care for motives, only for results. So Dr Brenner theorized Peter killed his family because of something traumatic he must’ve been through, and that was enough. 

For you, however, the question always remained.

“Your father… he was imprisoned, right?” you asked, trying to play it casually. You had done your research, but in any way did you want to scare him.

Peter looked back at you, your elbows almost touching.

“He was,” he said as if he wanted to say more but just couldn’t.

“Sometimes, I wish my father went to prison,” you let out your guilty truth. You knew what your father did to the kids, you weren’t dumb. But you spent so many years trying to please him, that it was hard to imagine yourself doing anything that could jeopardize your papa. Besides, his research was important, the kids maybe did not receive the best of treatments, for the love Dr Brenner offered was only when the children had reached important achievements but wasn’t that the love he offered you, his very blood daughter?

You watched Peter as he frowned, clearly feeling sorry for you. Although that was one of the rare comments you made about your father that could indicate a bad upbringing, it was only presumed that the boy used by the doctor would assume that the man was not a good father.

“One day,” he said, “we’ll get out of here, huh.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ll get your fancy diploma and my crazy abilities and make a world of our own.”

“I don’t know about a world,” you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’m happy with just a house.”

He tilted his head towards yours and the two of you just stayed there, in silence, enjoying each other’s company. There was so much to be said… but there was never the right time. You hoped Peter understood that dreaming of leaving was just that: a dream. You couldn’t escape your papa, and he could even less, as he was not just his whole research base but also his favourite prisoner.

~~

Peter wanted to protect you.

He always wanted to protect you, ever since he met you, the little girl in pigtails, walking in all nervous and looking at him as if you were surprised and scared at the same time. He was not much older than you, but somehow he knew it was his job to be the protector.

He saw through your mind — even though he didn't want to, it was inevitable with a power like his. He saw that you were just the perfect daughter even though your father was far from being the perfect papa you saw him as. He saw a mind as complex and smart as his and he was glad to find in you a twin soul.

Although he saw you grow old, he didn’t see you as often as he hoped, and there were weeks when he grew desperate, thinking Dr Brenner had done some evil against you, but then, all of the sudden, you were crossing the corridors following him around like a puppy, taller and prettier than the last time he saw you, and that was enough. It had to be.

However, three weeks before his nineteenth birthday, a guard came to his room, asking for him to accompany him for Number One had an appointment. Needless to say, Peter was very surprised when, opening the door, he found [y/n], dressed in white this time, just like the other doctors, but at the same time so different. She still had the same energy — a scared little genius. She looked pretty, more like a woman this time than the last, even though she was younger than him.

He was surprised, but he managed to pretend he was careless. What were you doing there, in a room all alone in the lab? He thought by now you’d be free of her father, but he was wrong. Or maybe you didn’t want to be free. Maybe you had become one of them officially. 

So he kept his cold distance, scared you were gonna run more tests with him.

But it wasn’t what you did.

In your first appointment, you just sat there and told him about your trajectory, similar to your first conversation when he was eleven years old, except this time you had managed to accomplish all of those things your father had only planned.

He listened to it all because, why wouldn't he? It was you after all. His weak spot. The one that would doom him. 

Before he knew it, he was anxious, waiting for your next appointment, and, although again, he remained silent and just listened to you, he noticed that he liked it. He just liked being in your presence.

Something happened then, something shifted, and before he knew it, he was telling you everything, all about the tests and the powers; powers you could not comprehend, but that didn’t stop him from trying to explain and eventually show them to you.

Friends, he supposed. You two were friends. He had never thought of calling someone that before, but perhaps it was fit for the little relationship you two had formed.

And since he defined you as a friend, it was no surprise that one day, Dr Brenner, the Dr Brenner, requested his presence in his office.

“Yes, Papa?” he hated to call the man that, he was bloody twenty-one years old, but if he called Brenner any other thing, he would be a dead man by the morning.

“I have been watching you closely, my boy,” he said, trying to put emotion in his words, but failing miserably. “And I think, as you’ve come of age, you should have a more important job here. Perhaps it’s time you help the other children, huh? Help them achieve their potential maximum, as I’ve done with you. You could be my left hand.”

Peter lowered his head, pretending to be honoured. There was no honour in serving Dr Brenner, but Peter knew it was better being a guard than being a subject. At least someone (the children) would stop looking at him like a child that grew too fast. 

“That would be an honour, Papa. I mean, sir, as I suppose should be the one I should call you now,” Peter said, testing the waters. “It wouldn’t be right for the kids to see that Number One is in charge but they aren’t, right?”

Dr Brenner took a second to observe.

“Right. It’d be best if they didn’t know you are Number One. let them think he grew and left for the world. You shall be… I forgot; what was your name from before again, my boy?”

“Peter,” he replied, but soon realised he did it too quickly.

The doctor stared at number One, analysing, pensive towards his easiness of recalling his name. He wasn’t supposed to be remembering that time of freedom, before the lab. 

Peter felt like that was his first test in the new position and he had just failed.

“Well, Peter, that shall be you calling from now on. Go to your room, yes? I’ll send someone to take your things to a new area of the building and explain your duties in the new position. But be clear that I’ll still expect you to continue training.”

“Sure. Thank you for the opportunity, sir.” And Peter left, not fast enough, but he did not stay to hear more — he just wanted to leave.

~~

“Who’s that?” he asked you, following the little girl that was accompanying your father as they passed down the hall.

“Eleven,” you said, as that was the number the little girl was designated and you had no idea what her real name was. “She’s been raised here, but isolated. Papa thinks she’s powerful.”

Peter crossed his arms, still following the girl with his eyes.

His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, and you liked it that way. Since he became a guard and helper, Dr Brenner cut him off from his appointments with you, so you were only able to see Peter if by chance you two crossed paths in the halls, like it was happening there.

It was unfortunate that you couldn’t see each other weekly, but you knew he would rather be a guard than be a ‘patient’, as you used to call and he used to hate it.

“Powerful how?”

“She had been through this whole way of birth… I don’t know how to explain it. She’s not a patient of mine,” you said.

“Why?” he questioned, genuinely interested.

“I don’t know. Papa says she’s too young. But I’ve talked to her, during some tests… She indeed seems very powerful. Talented.” You tilted your head, remembering the first time you saw Eleven.

“So she’s his new Number One,” Peter uncrossed his arms, only to smile at you, tossing his blond locks away from his eyes.

“You’re still number one,” unfortunately, you thought, a bit sad.

“Am I still the most talented and powerful person in the lab?”

“Oh,” you decided to provoke him. “I think Eleven wins.”

“How dare you!” he said, but he was laughing, and soon, so was you.

When you noticed the time on your watch, you decided to ask for a favour.

“Just… watch over her, huh? I feel like you’ll see her more than me, as it seems father won’t trust her over my surveillance. Eleven, she feels like she’ll need a friend.”

“You know you’re my only friend,” he said, and his expression was serious. He wasn’t lying.

“And you’re mine.”

He sighed. “I’ll watch over her.”

“Thank you,” you mouthed, soundless before leaving to go back to your job.

Peter watched as you left, reflecting on your plea. He saw in your mind that you cared for Eleven, more than you cared for the other kids. And if your request was for him to watch over the little girl, then he would be his bloody guardian if needed.

~~

“Happy birthday, doc.” 

You stared up from your cupcake with a candle on top to see Peter, also known as Number One, in your room. There were rare times when he would come in, especially after he stopped being your patient, so you were surprised with his visit, but mostly, you were concerned because he saw your sad moment with the birthday cupcake.

“Thank you, P,” you said, shrugging and blowing the candle. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say happy birthday. I know those things matter to you.”

You tilted your head while frowning before replying, jokingly, attempting to distract him from your real reasons. “It stopped mattering when I turned 25.”

“[y/n],” he smiled and walked in, closing the door behind, “you just turned 30. You’re not old.”

You were glad he decided not to mention your father — the real reason behind your sad birthdays. He never remembered, or he was always busy; you wish it didn’t matter, mainly as you grew older, but it still bothered you. Fortunately, you had Peter.

“I don't think I've mentioned it before but I like when you call me Peter,” he said, changing subjects.

“I'd never call you 001.”

“I know, but... you could call me Henry. It's better than the number,” he shrugged. “I like being Peter, the guy that works at the lab and not Henry the cursed son of a troubled man.”

You lowered your head, remaining in silence for you had not what to say after that.

“How’s Eleven?” you asked, because, as it seemed, you cared for the girl and it was a good way to change the subject. It was only natural to ask about her to the person who was spending at least ten hours per day with her.

Peter came closer to your chair, looking down at you with pity. It wasn’t as if Eleven was in danger (not more in danger than all of them) or as if she was a stupid child, but Peter didn't like that you cared that much. It made him care too, and that was unforgivable.

“She’s okay. The other kids don’t like her, but she’s managing,” he said.

You sighed. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

“Sure. It’s not as if your father isn’t experimenting on her or something.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like it isn’t the truth?” he replied, bothered that you didn’t like his sick joke.

“I know what my father does, ok? Do you think I like it?” you shouted, perhaps a bit too louder than needed. “Do you think I have any power against it?”

“No, but I do! I have power!” he yelled back. “Just say the word, [y/n], and we’ll burn this place to the ground.”

By place, you knew he meant your father. Your Papa.

And even though you had enough reasons to agree, you just couldn’t.

You sighed, giving up on the fight.  

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed too, and he placed one of his hands on your chin, forcing you to look back up, to look at him again. You allowed him, mostly because you were tired, but partly because it calmed you down to look at his beautiful blue eyes. “I didn’t come in here to fight. I wanted to give you a gift. For your birthday.”

You stared at him, confused. You could see his hands — there was no package in them.

But Peter’s gift… it didn’t need to be wrapt. 

Growing up with parents that loved each other was kinda gross, at least it was what young Peter thought, seeing them touching lips all the time. He didn’t understand the reason behind it, why would they need to kiss at every chance they got? 

Then, Peter came to the lab, he became Number One, his mother was dead, and he forgot all about it. He forgot the name of the feeling humans have, the one that curls up their stomachs and makes their hearts beat faster. He forgot it all until he didn’t. Until you showed up. And maybe his heart was racing, maybe he wanted to touch you.

Sometimes, brushing shoulders wasn’t enough.

So he remembered something, something lost in his past and probably unfamiliar to you too, as both had weird upbringings, but he thought it was just perfect. Peter knew he had to give it a try.

He raised his hand from your chin to your cheek and allowed the other to follow. Your eyes widened as you understood what was going on, but you did nothing to stop him. Hell, you had been waiting for that for decades.

You could leave the lab, you had access to movies. Even though there weren’t many kisses in your life — motherless childhood and all (besides the fact that you were always the nerd in school and life) — you desired to be kissed. You waited for that moment when you were fifteen, then at eighteen, then strong as ever when you were twenty (when Peter burst in celebrating being repositioned as a guard and not a simple number). 

So you let him and you responded to the kiss. You touched him too, pulling him by his golden hair that you so much admired, and you let your lips open just enough that he could understand the signal. And Peter understood, as he too wanted more — wanted to feel you, taste you, and not just lips and tong, but hands, oh, wandering hands that travelled from your cheekbones to your curves, to pull you close.

If first you were sitting and he had to lean down to reach you, that was in the past minute, because he managed to change your positions with ease, placing you over his lap as he sat on your chair.

“I think…” you started but he kissed you, silencing you.

“Don’t think,” he replied. “If you think, I’ll think.”

“Peter…”

You could feel his smile on your lips.

“Let’s reshape the world, [y/n],” he whispered, kissing your neck, “join me.”

His hands tightened on your back when he noticed you froze. Damn it, he thought.

“We can free all the numbers and we can remake this place, this world, however, we see fit.”

“Why are you saying this to me?” you asked, confused. You thought it was about kissing, but maybe this primitive form of touch awoke something in him. It was two desires combined and you were scared Peter wasn’t gonna forget it.

There was no escaping your father, as much as you liked to dream about it.

You kissed him again. “Forget it, Peter.”

You pulled him closer by the collar of his white shirt.

“Focus on me.”

“It’s all I’ve been focused on, [y/n]. Couldn’t you see? How desperate I am to leave but I stay? Why do you believe I stay?” he kissed you back but this time you pulled away. “Don’t think, [y/n].”

You tried to find his eyes, his calming blue eyes that you loved to stare at. You would see sense there. You would see the real him there.

And you saw the real him there.

Blue. Ice cold blue eyes.

“Peter, let me go,” you said, expecting him to drop his hands from your leg and back.

But he didn’t.

“You just kissed me, Peter, why can’t you enjoy it?”

He shook his head. “How can I? Do you think your father will give us his blessing?”

You closed your eyes.

“And even if he does, do you think he’ll leave us be? Do you think he’ll let my children be?”

You gulped. “You’re overthinking, Peter,” you said, trying to remain calm.

“With whom do you think I’ve to learn it?” his voice was louder and it echoed in the room.

“Let me go,” you asked, but he ignored you, he just kept going with his monologue about the world and freedom. “Let me go, Number One.”

He instantly dropped you. One minute you were on his lap, the other you were on the floor. You got up, adjusting your skirt, trying to get to the door.

“Why did you call me that, Dr Brenner?”

You gulped.

“Why did you have to call me that, Dr Brenner?!”

You finally reached for the door. You had the handle in your fingers. He wasn’t holding you anymore. It was going to be ok.

“Say you’re sorry, please, [y/n],” Peter said, his blue eyes looking deep into yours.

“I’m sorry I called you by your number, ok? It won’t happen again.”

“That’s not the apology I wanted to hear.”

“Peter…”

“I think I loved you, did you know that?” he asked, getting closer, step by step, slowly.

You just knew you were doomed because the goddamn door didn’t open no matter how hard you pulled or pushed.

“Loved?”

“I think you loved me too.”

“I love you too,” you said, in an attempt to save your life, even though it was the truth. 

“Tisk tisk,” he made the noise with his tongue. “Loved, dear. Loved.”

He didn’t even raise his hand before it all went dark.

#jamie campbell bower #starnger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #number 001 #001 x reader #eleven #jane hopper #mike x will #fanfic #netflix #dr brenner #st fic #st fanfic

[cleric-will]

William Byers? YEARNING? It's more likely than you think.

#miwip wednesday #will byers #mike wheeler #byler #st fanfic #byler fanfic #I told y'all I'd have something to post this miwip wednesday! #no idea how long it'll be before I start posting this but this AU has fully taken over my brain #I haven't been this excited about writing in YEARS #so I hope y'all like it #tbwhhb

[sidekickjoey]

In the summer of '86, fresh off of saving the world, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler get blonde highlights.

Be it a coping mechanism after handling the hell that was spring or simply a mutual need for change, the decision is made without nervousness from either party. They enter the salon together, swear up and down to their assigned hairstylists that, yes, this is what they want and no, they do not care that their hair already looks perfect as is, thanks, and leave donning notably different looks.

Steve's signature chestnut ends up woven between streaks of gold, giving him a sort of distracting glimmering effect when he walks out into the sun. Nancy's waves, though still shoulder length and crimped to perfection, sway almost completely and utterly blonde in any light.

Needless to say, their new looks quickly make them, the former it-couple of Hawkins, the talk of the town once more - including that of their two closest friends, Eddie and Robin.

They, unlike the general public of Hawkins, have spent the past few months slowly building massive crushes on Steve and Nancy, entranced by their might after surviving the horrors of the Upside Down. While to most a change in hair color for Steve and Nancy is merely an oddity, to them? It's like someone hit the panic button and left them to scatter in a secluded room.

Robin has only been over her gaga-for-Vickie phase for a few weeks now. The wound is still fresh, and she knows she should not be looking once again into a possible unrequited love situation until she is better healed emotionally. She also knows he has a weakness for blondes that goes beyond all reason, i.e. Tammy Thompson and her muppet singing voice. She shouldn't act and possibly jeopardize one of her most sincere female friendships over a silly little weakness like that.

However, Nancy looks like a vision in blonde.

Robin thinks it's her big doe eyes that do it. They pop when the blonde meshes with Nancy's fair skin, and it makes her heart swoon in the most debilitating of ways. Not to mention, the softer cut she got along with the lighter coloring frames her face so well. Robin swoons over it. If not for her fear of rejection, she probably would have already taken the leap and done something stupid, like confess how Nancy's scrambled her brain.

Eddie's not doing much better himself with Steve.

He had been there in the early days, when Scoops Ahoy's newest worker showed up in his first edition of golden highlights. Like any good Hawkins resident, he had handled it with poise, class, and lots of extra trips to Scoops Ahoy whenever he happened to be at the Starcourt Mall, along with frequent whisperings of 'what the hell' expressed in the confines of his room where no one could hear him freak out. T'was standard™.

This look, though...it blows Scoops Ahoy Steve away by miles.

It's bright. It's golden. It's like he slipped and fell into some kind of radiant daydream, only to emerge like a ray of sunlight to distract Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson alone, and Eddie can't shut up about it.

Seriously, Wayne has heard enough.

The issue is, he has next to no idea what to do about these feelings. His mind is screaming to make a move on the guy, because you only live once and, well, he's already on his second try. However, his little worried heart loves Steve's newfound companionship and whatever odd-couple friendship they have going on right now. He doesn't want to lose that because of some dye job and a trim. It's too important, too good.

So, like Robin, he finds himself refraining.

They both refrain, and over the next week or so, the decision to do so eats at them like mad. They stumble over their words when speaking to Steve and Nancy. They actually stumble physically, in Robin's case, when Nancy walks by one morning. They tell anyone and everyone they can about it aside from Steve and Nancy, and by the end of that week, it all hits a breaking point. Word slips for the sake of everyone's sanity to Steve and Nancy.

It should mark the beginning of havoc and betrayal.

Instead, it breeds two plans.

Because, here's the thing: Steve and Nancy are not dumb, contrary to what some might think. They are wildly observant people. They know what their friends are up to, and Robin and Eddie are high on that friend list after spring. They've seen their behavior and, though Nancy had to spell a little bit of it out for Steve, both have come to the conclusion that something is definitely up in the crush department. If they want to capitalize on it, they know there is no better time than now while their haircuts are still new and their own crushes are seeking an opportunity to spill their feelings.

Nancy's plan to handle Robin, to the untrained eye, is simple. She's known for carefully thought out strikes when people least expect them, and the last thing she's going to do is stop using that tactic to her advantage now.

So, she invites the other girl on a trip to the mall for new bracelets. She claims it's on account of Holly taking hers hostage (not a total lie) and needing time out with someone her age (also not a total lie), and Robin buys it in seconds. A day later, they meet up at a boutique mall just outside of Hawkins and roam for a few hours together. It's simple. Casual. Subtle enough to be innocent from afar yet just intimate enough for Nancy to make her move when the time is right.

The time becomes right when they're sitting at a booth in the food court, chatting about Holly's other jewelry-related crimes. Nancy accidentally knocks the fork for her salad off the table, catching the attention of them both. Robin is quick to say she's got it, but Nancy is faster. Ready. She reaches down, picks up the fork, and in a fit of bravery, makes damn sure she holds eye contact with Robin the entire way back up. Robin swallows and looks away, clearly flustered and trying to behave over such a small thing as eye contact. But, Nancy doesn't want her to ignore it this time. So, she pulls a cheesy line from Steve's old book (that she totally did not rehearse with Steve, not at all) and misbehaves, just to get the ball rolling.

Batting her eyes, she asks in her most casual drawl, "Sheesh Robin, do blondes always make you this nervous?"

Robin chokes on her milkshake. 'Accidentally' knocks over her own fork. Goes down beneath the table to - not subtly - whisper-scream about what the hell that just was, because what the hell was that? Hello?

Nancy finds it incredibly endearing. She kind of wants to tell her about it.

She joins Robin on the floor to do so and giggles, freakin giggles, at Robin's shock and awe over her being there. Robin, panicked, reaches for the fork she dropped and holds it up to Nancy for her to see like it's some kind of explanation for her huddling under the table a full minute after it fell. She then stutters out a small 'got it,' despite Nancy being a goddamn journalist who notices things for her job and is fully capable of using her own two eyes to see, what the heck Robin??

Nancy still finds it all so endearing, though she doesn't think saying it out loud would be the best course of action anymore. Her last words sort of sent the poor girl into a spiral, and as fun as it is sharing this cramped space with her, she kind of wants to get off the gross tile if at all possible. So, instead, she does the next best thing and expresses her fondness physically.

With a kiss.

On the mouth.

Hidden by the table but all-too-real and seen to Robin, who forgets how to breathe because oh my gosh. Oh my GOSH.

It's perfect. It's effortless. It's everything. It's hands-down worth the hours of waiting Nancy had to do under a hairdryer in foils to get her here, and even more worth Robin's adorably rushed confession after the fact that she's always liked blondes, just a little bit.

~~~~~~

Steve's plan is a lot different than Nancy's.

He is a tried-and-true passionate romantic after all, and Eddie is about as dramatic as Shakespeare. A casual outing or demure kiss under a table is just not going to cut it in terms of a confession for either of them. Steve knows this. He tells it to Nancy. Repeatedly.

After hours of back and forth over the phone, he eventually finds himself at a music store, equipped with a wad of cash and his eyes set on an, admittedly, badass looking guitar. It has blue flames along its black exterior that rise to its very top and are lined with a reflective silver, making it glimmer even in the dim light of the shop. Eddie's been moaning about losing his sweetheart to the Upside Down for weeks -- no, months at this point. Steve thinks this blue beauty would be a perfect replacement for her. He also thinks it might just be what they need to stop dancing around each other's feelings too, if he's lucky.

He purchases it and stows it away in his bedroom before calling Eddie over the following day. The boy is all nerves when he finally arrives. Steve doesn't help ease them by running his hand through his hair more than once, but what can he say? It's a tough habit to break, and he's been doing it ever since he's hand anything more than a buzz cut. Sue him.

After pleasantries about their day are discussed and Eddie appears to be more calmed down, Steve invites him upstairs for a 'surprise' that just about undoes all the poor boy's progress at once.

Because Steve didn't just place the new guitar in its case and put a bow on it to surprise Eddie. No, he propped that sucker on its stand, bought a small light to illuminate the silver and blue, and placed a little card on the case that said, 'To Eddie, from your sweetheart.'

Steve watches as Eddie physically has to reboot upon seeing it all. He then rushes to cover his ears as Eddie returns to consciousness with a full-blown yell, running over to his gift with repeated 'no way's that get higher and higher in volume with each utterance. All noise ceases when he finally reads the card, though. That's when Steve feels safe enough to drop his hands to his side and make his approach, a shy grin on his lips.

"Like it?"

"Y-You're my sweetheart?"

With a shrug, Steve once again cards a hand through his hair. "If you want me to be. I-I mean, I assumed you would want me to be with all the looks you've been giving me, a-and everything with the Upside Down. But if I've got that wrong, if...shit, maybe I should just-"

Their first kiss is messy, wet, and way too enthusiastic.

Eddie's all teeth from how wide he's smiling into the kiss, and Steve nearly falls over from the sheer force of the guy barreling into him. He grows a bit dizzy, too, from how firm Eddie's grip on his hair has him, and that does little for his already frazzled balance. But, it's perfect. It's so stupidly them and perfect and wild like Steve had hoped it to be, like Eddie hoped it to be.

Later, when Steve leaves Eddie to enjoy his guitar in peace and breathe because, yeah, he finds himself making a mental note to call Nancy when he's home. If this is what one round of highlights gets him, he'll be damned if they don't plan another round for touch ups soon.

Stepping inside, Steve catches sight of a blinking light on his answering machine that tells him Nancy'd be damned, too.

He smiles.

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