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The Boy Is Mine (Red's Version) - Eddie Munson x Reader

For @carolmunson’s writing event! Thank you for hosting this fun and uniting challenge 🥰

Summary: A romantic evening at Eddie’s trailer where you finally put a long-time dispute to bed.

Words: 2.2k

“Mmm,” Eddie moans as he stretches his arms out over his head. His tight back muscles loosen at the movement, having become stiff from sitting in one place so long to watch a movie. This is the third week in a row you two have had Star Wars Date Night and even though you both love it, neither of you realized how sore you’d get sitting in one spot for hours or how many times you would need to get up and use the bathroom during the long films.

Your boyfriend looks down at you, where you’re resting your head on a throw pillow in his lap. He smiles as he gently traces his fingertips down your cheek.

“Ready for bed, beautiful?” he asks.

You roll onto your back to look up at him. A rogue curl falls down in your direction and you take the opportunity to wrap it around your pinky.

“I guess so,” you say. 

Reluctantly, you sit up and push yourself off the couch, allowing your boyfriend to do the same. The whole walk down the hallway to his bedroom, Eddie has his hands on you: gripping your hips, sliding them along your waist, tugging at the hem of your denim shorts. 

“I’m capable of taking my own clothes off, you know,” you muse as you step into his room.

“I know. I just think I can do it better,” Eddie mumbles against your shoulder, pressing kisses there and up the side of your neck. 

“Can I change into my pajamas and then you can grope me? Does that seem fair?” you ask. 

Eddie chuckles and takes a step away from you. The moment you move further away from him though, he grabs his chest and acts as if your distance from him is literally killing him. 

“Aw, damn,” you mutter as you pick your bag up from the floor and set it on Eddie’s bed. “Looks like I killed my boyfriend.” 

The overdramatic metalhead drops to his knees, making the thin walls of the trailer shutter, and crawls towards you as if you’re an oasis and he’s been in the desert for days. 

“Need…my…girl.”

Rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s theatrics, you tug your shirt off over your head. Eddie’s eyes go wide and watch you like a hawk as you take off your bra and jeans as well. You slip an oversized Metallica t-shirt on and put your clothes back in the bag. Something pink and sparkly catches your eye and you perk up.

“Oh!” You pull out a small notebook, covered in stickers in all its glittery glory. 

“What’s that?” Eddie asks, finally standing up from the floor. He tosses his own shirt aside and undoes his handcuff belt. 

“Just something to prove to you that I’ve been right all along!” You point the notebook at him like it’s an accusatory finger as he strips down to his boxers.

“About?” Eddie asks. He grabs an old yellow scrunchie you left over a while ago and ties his hair back at the nape of his neck. 

Instead of answering him, you sit down on the bed and turn yourself until your ass is up against Eddie’s pillows. Then you lay back and kick your feet up to rest against the wall, leaving your body at a ninety-degree angle. 

Eddie situates himself the opposite way, his body lying the typical way with his head coming to rest right next to yours. 

“This,” you say as you open the notebook and begin to flip through the pages. Eddie tilts his head up to try and get a look but all he can see is swoopy handwriting in black ink scrawled across the white pages. “is the diary I kept in fifth grade.”

“Oh God,” Eddie says, running a hand down his face.

“I found it when I was cleaning my room this morning. Maybe now you’ll believe me!” you exclaim, and you begin to flip the pages with more fervor. “Aha! Here we are. My eleventh birthday.”

“Babe, you only invited me to your birthday party because you invited the whole class. It’s okay.”

“No!” you groan in exasperation. “I mean, yes, I did invite the whole class but that’s not why I wanted you there.”

“Right,” Eddie says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, “it’s because you had a crush on me.”

“Ugh!” The fact that he doesn’t believe you drives you up the wall. But now you’re holding proof. It’s right here in black and white—and clearly not in your current handwriting. “Prepare to be proven wrong.”

You clear your throat before you begin to read your pre-teen self’s diary entry. 

“Dear diary, it was a pretty great birthday. I got a new bike from mom and dad. Chrissy gave me some new gel pens and Heather got me a Rick Springfield poster. But the best part of all was EDDIE! Duh! I didn’t see him when I cut my cake so later I grabbed a cupcake and punch to bring to him. I found him in my treehouse and we sat there for a while. Together. Just us! I wanted him to kiss me soooooooo bad but I knew he wouldn’t. It’s dumb to think he’d like me the way I like him. I can’t help it though. I just wanna take Eddie Munson’s face in my hands and kiss him until our lips fall off.”

You stop reading when you and Eddie begin laughing. 

“See?” you say, nudging Eddie’s shoulder with your own. “I bet you don’t even remember that day.”

Your boyfriend lets out a loud bark of laughter before raising his eyebrows at you.

“Wanna bet?”

The backyard is set up with long tables covered in colorful plastic tablecloths, grilled meats or snack foods laid out for guests to nibble on. The day is bright and sunny, but not blisteringly hot to be outside. It seems like half of your class is in the bounce house as you walk past it. A couple of your friends call your name, urging the birthday girl to come join them, but you have other plans. 

In one hand you hold a cupcake and the other a cup of Hawaiian Punch. You couldn’t find where your mom put the extra cups from this party, so you had to settle for the Fairy Princess themed paper cups you had from last year’s birthday. 

Squinting to keep the sun from your eyes, you take another scan of the backyard. Some neighbors talking by your dad over by the grill, a few of your aunts walking inside the house with your mom, and kids scattered around the yard like dice thrown across a Yahtzee board. But not the one kid you’re looking for. Still, you don’t give up. He was here before and you’re sure you would’ve noticed if he just left. 

As you come to the back corner of your yard, it’s both cooler and much quieter. The shade from the looming maple tree brought a sense of calmness to the small, tucked away area. You take a few steps closer to the trunk of the tree and when you look up you see the treehouse you built with your dad and uncle two summers ago. And hanging out the front entrance of your hideaway fort you see two dirty white sneakers, one looking a little worse for wear than the other. 

You walk around to the other side of the tree where planks of wood are hammered into the thick bark; your makeshift ladder. It’s a little difficult to climb with the confection in one hand and a full cup in the other, but you manage to do it without dropping or spilling either. Eddie’s head turns to you as you climb up the hole in the floor behind him. One corner of his mouth quirks into a smile and it has butterflies rushing throughout your stomach. 

Determined to not make a fool out of yourself in front of the boy you have a massive crush on, you set the cupcake and beverage down as you pull your body all the way up into the tree house. Once you’re securely up, you scoot over to sit next to Eddie. Your legs dangle next to his out what could be considered the front door of the fort. 

“What’re you doing up here?” Eddie asks, not unkindly but not exactly warmly either. His eyes never meet yours, instead gazing out ahead, in the direction of children laughing. 

“You missed cake,” you tell him. 

Eddie looks at you from the corner of his eyes and you realize he’s trying to determine if you’re being sincere or not. Anger settles in your veins and you’re suddenly ready to single-handedly take on any bullies that pick on this sweet boy. 

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Eddie finally replies. 

If only he knew how wrong he truly was. It seems like you’re always aware of where Eddie is in relation to you. Whether it be seated behind you in class, down the table at lunch, or halfway across your own backyard. 

“Well, I did,” you say, trying to quell the heat in your cheeks at your response. “And I brought you this.” You reach behind you and grab the Hawaiian Punch in the Fairy Princess cup. The reminder of what you’re giving him this beverage in has your cheeks getting warmer again though. “I ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?”

Eddie takes it from you and raises it to his eye level to inspect the different creatures depicted on it. An amused smile graces his lips, but he doesn’t laugh. 

“It’s good. Fairies are cool.”

His response makes you feel lighter as you wrap your fingers around the polk-a-dotted cupcake wrapper and present the vanilla dessert to him.

“And this,” you say. 

The boy takes a sip of the punch and sets it down next to him before accepting the cupcake. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says softly. It’s the quietest you’ve ever heard him speak before. 

“No problem,” you answer, just as quietly. 

Slowly, Eddie peels the wrapper from the cupcake and takes a large bite that envelops half the treat in his mouth. As he chews, you notice he has a little vanilla frosting smeared above his top lip. You can’t help but smile as you gesture to the area on his pretty, pale face.

“You’ve got a little…”

Eddie sticks his tongue out and runs it around his lips, cleaning off the mess. 

“Actually,” Eddie says, tilting his head as he looks at you, “so do you.”

A frown of confusion creases your brow. 

“But I didn’t have a bite.” Your hand goes up and feels across your face. “Where?”

“Riiiiight…” Eddie swipes his pinky through the white frosting and dots it at the very tip of your nose. “There!”

The way your face crinkles up makes Eddie’s heart beat a little faster. And when your laughter joins in, Eddie swears he’s in love. 

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t like you,” Eddie says, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Honestly, I thought you liked Chrissy.” You roll on your side and nudge Eddie’s earlobe with your nose. “That’s why I tried to copy her look as much as I could for a while. Didn’t work that well, but I tried.”

“Chrissy?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to look at you. 

“Mhmm,” you affirm, not meeting his eyes. “Actually, I thought maybe you liked her again last year when you guys were chemistry partners. Or maybe that you’d never stopped liking her. I mean, she is really pretty and the sweetest girl, and—”

Eddie stops you with a gentle hand caressing the side of your face. He turns on his side so you’re nose to nose and slowly swipes his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. I didn’t like her last year. Or in fifth grade. Or ever. I’ve liked you since the fifth grade, though.”

You slip off of the bed and rotate yourself so you can lay by Eddie’s side. He tucks you under his arm and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Sorry,” you say softly. “Guess I had a throwback moment after reading that adolescent angst.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not like I never get insecure.”

“Or jealous,” you add, but with a small smirk. 

“I guess, yeah,” Eddie agrees, cheeks flushing pink at the admission. 

“And possessive,” you say, tightening your grip on your man.

Now, Eddie has an amused expression on his face as he studies you. 

“And you like that?” he asks.

“It’s hot,” you explain bluntly with a shrug. 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and presses his lips against your temple, leaving them there for a moment. 

When he reluctantly pulls away, he reaches behind him and turns off the light. The moment he’s back down beside you, you’re clinging to Eddie like a koala bear. He doesn’t mind one bit as he holds you just as securely. 

After a little while, his eyes start to slip closed. But before he falls fully asleep, he feels your leg slip in between his. Your knee lifts until your thigh is pressed right up against his cock. Suddenly, he’s not so sleepy anymore. 

“If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem,” Eddie grumbles out, making you giggle. 

“I would hardly call that a problem.”

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 6 Prompt: Conversation Hearts 💕 ~ 2,300 words Eddie teases you because he thinks your crush on him is hilarious, but you don’t find it very funny.

A tiny, hard, unidentified object thwacks! against the back of your head.

“Ow!” You spin on your heel to confront the culprit, and…are actually not that surprised to see Eddie Munson standing there, smirking at you.

You rub the back of your head. “What was that?”

Wordlessly, Eddie holds up a small pink box. Conversation hearts. Of course.

You turn back around and keep walking, staring determinedly ahead, but he matches your pace. He strolls next to you down the hallway, nonchalant as can be, like he doesn’t have some trick up his sleeve to pester you with. When his arm brushes against yours, you shift subtly away, not wanting to touch him.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate, now is it?

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you mumble back instinctively, the need to mind your manners overpowering your need to avoid engaging with Eddie Munson at any cost. 

“So? Who’s the lucky fella taking you out tonight?”

There isn’t one. “None of your business.”

“Aw, come on, Princess. You gotta tell me who my competition is.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks. “That’s not funny.”

He pouts at you. 

You abruptly veer off to the left and duck into the restroom; you don’t want to hear what he has to say next.

“Hey! Where ya going?”

You shut yourself into a stall and lean with your back against the door, eyes squeezed shut. Why couldn’t he just leave you be? Was it not enough for him to simply not reciprocate your feelings? He had to go out of his way to tease you about the stupid crush you have on him, too?

Used to have, you think bitterly to yourself, as though there wasn’t any lingering affection embedded deep into your heartstrings.

But it’s not that easy. 

Eddie Munson was different. He was rowdy, snarky, and absurdly eloquent for a guy in his third go-round as a senior; he liked to read, he played guitar in a band, and he protected his friends like an attack dog. He worked at a bar and dragged on Lucky Strikes as he walked through the school parking lot, practically stomping across the pavement in his heavy boots. 

But still, there was a softness hiding underneath that hard shell. You were sure of it. 

Smitten kitten. That was you. Reaching your own senior year, you were finally, finally able to share a class with him. Ms. O’Donnell’s fourth period English became your favorite part of the day, the perfect place to indulge in your silly romantic fantasies, because the leading hero who starred in them was conveniently seated just two desks away. 

Which was all fine and dandy for you, until he knew.

You still don’t know how he found out. Did Nancy Wheeler let something slip in front of her brother, Mike, who ran and snitched to his fearless club leader? Or did Eddie somehow glean it from you by sheer intuition?

It was little things at first. Cocky, arrogant smirks aimed directly at you when he came into the room and plopped down in his seat. Cheeky tugs at your hair in the hallway. He hissed your name across the library and pulled goofy faces when you turned to look, wagged his tongue and threw wadded-up balls of paper at you. These actions left you confused, and automatically put you on guard. What did they mean, and why did they start occurring so suddenly?

You weren’t left guessing for long. He quickly got bolder. Eddie was already behaving like a general menace, but then it went beyond the rude gestures and peskiness. He did the unthinkable; he started teasing you mercilessly about your pathetic infatuation.  

He chased you in the hallways, calling you mocking pet names and asking when you were going to finally give him a chance. He blew kisses at you when you made eye contact in the cafeteria, pouting at you when you didn’t return them, while his friends all watched the exchange and laughed uproariously. 

It was so humiliating you could cry, and you had, many times over. And to think you had liked him because he was supposed to be nice underneath that tough exterior.

You’d rather be on the receiving end of Jason Carver’s poisonous words, or even worse — a repeat of Tommy Hagan’s routine torture from the year prior would be preferable to this. 

Having Eddie poke fun at your unrequited love for him was far too much to bear.

You sniffle uncontrollably, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes. You wipe at them furiously with your sleeve, feeling hot with embarrassment. You wish you could hide in here forever, and you almost do — but the late bell rings, and — Goddamn it — you have a quiz. Heaving a shuddery sigh, you walk as quickly as you can without breaking into a sprint to Ms. O’Donnell’s room.

The ornery woman gives you a frown as you enter her class late; you keep your eyes glued to the floor as you scamper to your seat, pointedly ignoring the curious stares of your peers, who are no doubt wondering what’s got you in such a state. Certainly not meeting his gaze, which is trained on you. You can practically feel it.

Quiz papers are passed out, and you can scarcely focus on the questions. You skim and answer as quickly as you can, wanting nothing more than to put your head down and wait for class to end.

The period passes in a blur; you’ve spent most of it watching the clock, telepathically willing the red hand ticking the seconds by to move faster. As soon as the bell rings you’re out of your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder and all but running from the room.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You ignore him, weaving in and out of the crowd of students.

He catches up with you anyway. “What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, for once sounding completely serious as he talks to you. “Why were you crying?”

Tears threaten to well up again. You purse your lips and shake your head as your face starts to crumble. God, you’re so over this whole thing. The teasing and the crying followed by more teasing, and more crying, an endless cycle that left you emotional and on edge every time you had to see him.

“Hey.” He tries to place a ringed hand on your shoulder, a touch that would have had you swooning mere months ago, but you wrench yourself out of his grip, face streaming. 

~

Later at home, your parents are off to dinner, celebrating their own love story. You revel in the luxury of an empty house, taking a long, hot shower, and slipping on your softest pajamas. Ordering your favorite takeout and putting on a comfort movie has you feeling almost okay again; you’re determined that today will be the last day you let Eddie Munson get under your skin, ever. 

There’s a rapping at the door. You hop up from the couch and grab the cash your parents set aside for your dinner, pad to the front door, and swing it open with a polite smile plastered on your face. 

Except the person standing there is decidedly not a delivery boy with an armful of food, but one Eddie Munson.

Immediately, you try to slam the door shut, but Eddie sticks his foot out before it can close all the way. He yelps in pain as the heavy door squashes his Reebok, but he doesn’t move.

“Oh my God! Is it not enough for you to bully me at school? Now you have to come to my house?! How do you even know where I live?!”

“Wheeler told me your address!” His eyes are wide, alarmed by the ferocity of your reaction. Wincing, he asks, “Can you just talk to me for a second, please? I’m trying to check on you.”

Reluctantly, you ease the pressure you’re putting on his foot. You keep the door half-shut, peering at him from around the jamb. You say nothing, waiting suspiciously. 

When it seems to Eddie that you’re not going to deck him, he relaxes a little. “I just wanted to apologize,” he admits, sounding as bashful as Eddie probably ever could. “I guess I upset you earlier today, and I didn’t mean to.” He pauses. “That was because of me, right?”

You sigh. “The fact that you even have to ask…”

His cheeks turn pink, and shuffles his feet nervously. “Look, I’m really sorry. For buggin’ you all the time. I guess…it’s some kind of…wish fulfillment thing for me, or whatever — anyway, it’s stupid, and I’m sorry for doing that to you. I swear I didn’t realize that it upset you so much, otherwise I never would’ve kept doing it.”

Eddie’s grimacing in shame, eyes downcast. He does look awfully sorry, but you’re not quite ready to forgive.

“I just don’t understand why.” Your bottom lip starts to tremble. “You know, you spend so much time fighting the basketball team, or anybody that so much as looks the wrong way at your Hellfire friends. You know what it’s like to get picked on. How could you do that to me? Even for a second?”

Eddie opens his mouth to interject, but you press on.

“If you thought it was funny that I liked you, then fine. You don’t have to like me back. But you don’t need to laugh in my face about it, either.”

He blinks. “I — what?”

“That’s so fucking mean, Eddie, for you to taunt me every single day —”

“You liked me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” you snap back.

“Princess, if you liked me, this is the first I’m hearing about it. I was under the impression that you hated my guts.”

Both of you fall silent, staring at each other intensely. Eddie’s brow is deeply furrowed, full lips parted in wonder.

You falter uncertainly. “I’m…confused.”

His face is a mirror of your own bewilderment. “So am I. You thought I was teasing you…for having a crush on me?”

You suddenly feel very exposed, like someone just walked in on you naked. “Weren’t you?”

“No.”

The words hangs in the air between you for a moment.

“Well, I definitely don’t anymore,” you state defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why did you think that?”

“Because you never looked twice at me and then all of a sudden you — you started calling me Princess and blew me kisses and talked about us going on dates like it was the funniest joke in the world!”

“Did it ever occur to you,” he replies, uncharacteristically quiet, “that I did all those things because I liked you?”

There’s an odd swooping sensation, like stepping for a missing stair.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, though his big doe-eyes still have a tinge of sadness in them. “I — I thought,” he wavers, then tries again, “I kept asking when you would go out with me because I really want you to. Go out with me, I mean.”

“Wish fulfillment,” you mumble, echoing his phrasing from earlier.

“I thought we were playing some kind of game, I guess. I thought you knew the meaning behind it, when I would do all those things. I had no idea I was hurting your feelings. And believe me, I had no clue that you had a crush on me — you’re way out of my league, Princess. I thought I was fighting a losing battle, so I kept hamming it up.”

You’re completely dumbfounded. “You threw papers at me. And pencils. And dice.”

Eddie chuckles nervously, thoroughly embarrassed. “Forgive me. I’ve been held back twice; that’s not really an indicator of a mature brain, is it?” He shrugs. “I wanted you to pay attention to me.”

All the emotional turmoil of the day hits you like a tidal wave. Impossibly, you find yourself getting choked up yet again. “All this time, I thought you were laughing at me.”

“I wasn’t,” he says softly, taking a step towards you. “I swear on my life, I never meant to make you feel this way. God, sweetheart, if I’d have known…” His gaze lingers on your watery eyes, your trembling lips, the way you’re almost hiding from him behind the jamb. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t see it.”

You swallow harshly. “It’s my own fault, I think. I always jump to conclusions — everyone tells me all the time that I’m too sensitive.”

“You’re not too sensitive,” he reassures you. “You’re sweet, you know? Gentle. That’s all.”

Oh. Eddie Munson thinks you’re gentle.

He cocks his head to the side. “Did it ever even occur to you? That I might have a crush on you, too?”

You laugh in spite of yourself, wiping at a few stray tears. “No.”

“Well, it should have. ‘Cause I did then, and I do right now, too.”

Eddie slips something out of his pocket, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. He holds out the same box he had earlier: small and pink, still full of pastel candies rattling against the cardboard. He pulls the flap open and shakes a few out into his palm; after looking over his options, he selects a lilac-colored heart and holds it out so you can see the small text. It simply reads: FOR YOU.

“A small token of my affection,” he whispers. “If you want it.”

Without thinking you reach out and grasp his leather-clad forearm, tugging on his sleeve. “Come inside,” you whisper back, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to have him close and warm. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. Definitely.”

Eddie bows his head. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

He finally crosses the threshold and steps into your arms, swinging the door shut behind him.

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

what love is; track one [e.m. x fem!reader]

summary: Everybody in Hawkins High knew Eddie "the freak" Munson, two-times-failed (so far) senior, proud metalhead, and dungeon master of the Hellfire club. Most knew the studious, sweet, good girl who probably had a full ride to any college she wanted to go to. But few people truly knew them, least of all, themselves. Now, in the summer of 1985, their paths cross again, intertwining to a point of no return. AKA, the trial and error of learning to love and be loved with Eddie Munson.

warnings/content notes( for this chapter): shitty parents, homophobic comments/slurs. suggestive content.

author's note: My bad habit is describing the reader in too much detail (clothing-wise, not appearance), so I apologize if the reader's style isn't yours, but I hope you can still enjoy the story. Also, I'm making Eddie a human disaster cause there's no way he's as smooth as I see in so many fics.

rating: 16+

word count: 6,543

taglist: @ratridingaskateboard (lmk if you want to be added!)

◁◁͏͏ 1: More Than A Feeling   ▷▷   0:38 ━━❍─────── 4:06

—— July, 1985 ——

It’s an easy day at work- the customers are few and far between, most of them mindlessly browsing the aisles, flipping through each vinyl and tape with one finger, looking at one after the other, after the other, after the other, after the other, pop or rock or metal, classical or movie soundtracks or even Christmas albums even though it's the middle of July. With how slow it is, (Y/N) is stuck leaning her elbow on the counter, chin in her palm as the sound of Boston’s More Than A Feeling plays from the radio next to her.

Getting this job had been such a stroke of luck after she graduated high school. A music shop with records and tapes and players ranging from pop to soundtrack to even metal– which her parents hated– tucked in downtown Hawkins within biking distance of her house, so she could stay living at home while she saved money to move out, and it paid well enough that she wasn't too worried about living there much longer. Plus, most days were like this- slow, easy- and she spent most of her time scribbling in her journal and listening to rock music that wouldn’t be allowed in her parent’s “pure, Christian home” and meeting like-minded people whom she otherwise might not have come across. And though her straight-laced, puritan parents weren’t too keen on her “out-there” job exposing her to things like “satanic rock-and-roll and ungodly fantasy”, at least she was making money.

She’s humming along to the guitar in the pre-chorus, tapping a pen across the list titled ‘Coming To Store, July 1985!!!’ that her boss had left for her to stock later on. The chorus swells with emotion right when the bell above the entrance rings. She freezes as she looks up to greet a new customer, eyes catching someone familiar, and suddenly she’s back in the Hawkins High School cafeteria at the beginning of her junior year, 1983, quietly making heart eyes at a long-haired, loud-mouthed boy across the room, for whom her heart had decided to beat for. 

Eddie Munson.

(Y/N) twirled the cord of her walkman’s headphones around her finger, barely poking at the lunch in front of her as her eyes focused on a senior boy at the head of the table a few rows down from hers. He’d been letting his wild hair grow out to his shoulders and looked like those rock stars in magazines that her mom never let her buy. He was the ‘leader’ of the Hellfire Club, who played a game called Dungeons and Dragons after school, about which she knew nothing except what she read about people trying to tie it to devil worship and satanism. With his long, messy hair and leather jackets and the denim jacket he had recently chopped the sleeves off of, he was loud and defiant, non-conforming, and everything her parents warmed her to be against. 

He was Eddie Munson, the Freak of Hawkins, and he had been stuck on (Y/N)’s mind since sophomore year. 

“Hey,” Her friend nudged her, tugging her headphones off and pulling her back into reality. The small group of awkward, acne-ridden high school kids who had yet to find their group giggled around her. 

“Hey! I was listening to-!” 

“You were ogling Munson again.” One interjected. 

“You know someone said he performs rituals? Like sacrificing people and shit?” Someone said, a sarcastic smile in their voice. 

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” She scoffed at the idea of devil worship. It was all scary stories to threaten kids into being safer. “C’mon, you sound like my parents.”

“I don’t believe it,” She cut in. “But he’s just… a freak.” Some kids around the table cut in, arguing that they were the weird kids too. The only difference was that he wasn’t ashamed of not fitting in. “Well devil-worship aside, he’s still probably going to end up like his dad, you know. Not really the best choice to be crushing on.” 

(Y/N)’s  friends continued to argue back and forth, but the girl’s eyes were fixed. Eddie had hopped up on the table, talking loudly to his table of misfit friends, taunting the popular groups of students, who jeered at him. The confidence, the pure lack of shame that radiated from him as he stuck his fingers up into devil horns and grinned wildly, it drove her insane. She’d never known someone as bold and unafraid as him, someone so true to themself and unbowing to the social pressure to change, despite the daily judgment and rumors and whispers behind his back. And a part of her-- a much larger part of her than she’d like to fully admit-- wanted to sneak her way into his group, be taken under his wing. Have some of that fearlessness rub off on her.

God knew she needed some bravery. 

For a moment, as Eddie jumped down from the lunch table, she swore his eyes locked with hers. Just for a moment.

“Hey, kid,” Her boss, Bill, jolts her back to the present, Boston’s song still playing on the radio. “-I closed my eyes and she slipped away-” She looked up, slightly saddened that she lost sight of that familiar face before she even saw him. “I’m clocking out for the day, make sure you sort out all those new tapes tonight.” 

She nodded, flustered, shaking away the embarrassing thoughts that had been plaguing her. “Oh, um, someone asked me earlier, are we getting the new Tears For Fears album soon?”

After only a moment, during which her eyes scanned the store, hoping to find that curly head, he spoke up. “Ah, that’s coming in next week. And while I’m thinking about it, we’re getting the new Dio album right after it comes out. Make a note of that so we don’t forget.” 

She nodded jotting it down on her paper. “Thanks.” 

“Stay outta trouble tonight.” 

But (Y/N) didn’t hear his words, or see him leave, as her eyes focused on a wild mop of hair coming around the corner of one of the shelves. As he browsed through the tapes in the metal section, she couldn’t help feeling like a creep watching his every move. She was entranced at the way his fingers so gently brushed a curl back out of his face. This was the first time she’d seen him outside school in the three years she’d known of him, and it was strangely intimate to see him in a place he fit into so well. A place where he didn’t need to defend himself and his interests every waking moment. Here he was, flipping through albums with a gentle hand when most of her memories of him were of him standing on cafeteria tables egging on the jocks or sitting outside the principal’s office without care. 

Eddie’s face turned towards hers, and it felt like a shock of electricity as she snapped her attention to the list of bands in front of her. Where were we… Bryan Adams… Duran Duran… Tears For Fears… New Dio album– In her peripherals, she could see him passing by the front counter. 

She braved a glance up, telling herself that it was only to seem natural, to check if he was ready to check out. Instead, their eyes locked for half a second as he walked past to browse tapes on the other side of the store. Again, her eyes tore down to stare a hole through her paper, and the counter beneath it, and the floor beneath that, getting so hot in the face she thought she might pass out. Had he seen her watching him? Did he remember her from high school? No, why would he? They’d only spoken briefly in class in her senior year, nothing memorable.

She remembered the first day of her senior year when none other than Eddie Munson– who she had thought graduated the year before– sat down a couple of seats over from her in English class. She’d nearly lost her mind at seeing him again, having thought her crush was one of the past and she could live out her senior year in peace, without being distracted by a meaningless little crush. But no, instead, there he was for her to oggle all class, watching him doodle on his papers, or nearly fall asleep whenever the teacher was lecturing. Her face heated up at his gall when she watched him grin while getting scolded for being late. 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder if he’d graduated. She didn’t remember seeing him at the ceremony, but plenty of kids didn’t attend, and considering his reputation and rumored familial situation– or lack thereof– it would make sense if he wanted to graduate silently and get the hell out of town.

The song ended, and she held rewind on the tape, not caring what the customers thought and feeling like she would float away without something to ground her to the earth. Eddie Munson, here in the store, after she thought she was over her stupid crush. 

“I lost myself in a familiar song, I closed my eyes and I slipped away”

She closed her eyes for a moment. This must be a dream. It had to be. She hadn’t seen him since last semester, and here he was in her store, his hair a little longer than the last time they’d seen each other. All throughout high school, she swore she’d never seen him in short sleeves and now here he was, the cut-off sleeves of his shirt and denim vest exposing the ink on his forearms to the sticky July air. If she looked hard enough, the long holes where he'd gone in with scissors exposed the sides of his slim torso, too. Not that she was staring.

Her mind was buzzing with all the little memories of him, the details about his presence, the way the chain on his jeans clattered against his chair in class, the way he sank in his seat and sat low, uninterested, and confident, and the way he would get scolded by the teachers every time. The way he cast a quick glance at her before tests because she had given him a copy of her notes, a glance that she’d always been too shy to hold when she caught him looking. She remembered going home every night and sinking into her bed under the covers, flipping through her secret journal for the cut-out and glued-down magazine pictures of rock stars on stage with long curls and dark clothes like his. Some might think she was crushing on him because he looked like the men in her magazines, but really, she liked them because they looked like Eddie.  

Ding!

A sharp trill on the ‘ring-for-service’ bell in front of her yanked her back into the present. Her eyes shot open, embarrassed to be daydreaming on the job, and there he was, standing in front of her with a dizzying smile, hand hovering over the bell.  

“Boston?”

Oh shit. Oh shit. He’s talking to me. Is he actually talking to me? (Y/N) looked up, meeting the eyes of Eddie Munson himself, pointing at the tape player next to them. Doe eyes, she suddenly realized he had. She’d never been this close before, even when they had math class together. Wait, what did he just ask? Oh, the band. "Y-yeah. Hahah. I like them."

"Cool, cool. Slow day?"

“Um- uh, yeah!” Smooth, she thought, really fucking smooth. “Just… keeping busy I guess, ha.” She motioned to the list in front of her. He leaned over the counter, eyes glanced through the list briefly. (Y/N)’s eye got stuck on the rings that adorned three of his fingers on the hand that rested next to the paper. All too soon, he retreated, stepping back, looking lightheartedly apologetic, and holding his hands up with a little smile. He smiled from the corner of his mouth. 

“Sorry, is it supposed to be secret?”

That brought a small laugh bubbling to her lips, the way he seemed so genuinely hesitant to offend her or the ‘secrets of the business’. “Um, no, it doesn’t matter.” She cleared her throat, embarrassed by the way she was giggling in front of him. Her face was burning. “It’s just the albums that we just got. I have to stock them tonight.”

His eyebrows raised, a smile spreading across his face. “Oh, yeah? Fill me in?” 

She glanced at the pins on his denim vest– bands he likes– then looked at the list, running her finger down. “Um, we have the album… Metal Heart? That was from back in February, we’re just getting it. Or we’re getting a restock.”

“Accept?”

“Yeah.” She nodded in confirmation of the band. “And a new Megadeth album.” 

“This is one of the only places I’ve found in this shithole town that has metal.” He smiled and pointed at a Megadeth patch sewn at the bottom of his vest. It looked a bit messy, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him sewing them on himself. This man in front of her was nothing like the loud, scary boy she saw in high school. “I, uh, guess I’ll be coming back, then? For that. When you get it?” He said it like a question, each sentence getting more and more unsure. 

She felt dizzy. Was he flirting? No, just being kind. A customer. The thought of seeing him again was making her head spin, and only after a moment did she remember where they were. “Oh, did you have something? To buy? For me to– did you need to pay for something?” 

“Oh, shit. Yeah.” He fumbled for a moment before setting down a single tape. Dio, The Last in Line. 

“Dio!” She exclaimed, maybe a bit too excited for a band she didn’t even listen to. She pointed at it, flustered at her outburst. “You listen to Dio.”

His face seemed to light up with some sort of emotion she couldn’t pin down. He turned and jutted his thumb out at the back of his vest, a homage to the album he was buying. He had that wild grin on his face like he was so proud to show her. “They’re my favorite. Put this on right after I heard their last album. My last tape got all messed up. Unwound and shit, must have listened too much.”

She rang him up with a smile, trying not to stare at his biceps. She’d never seen him so wholesomely enthusiastic about something so mundane. And this is the ‘Freak’ they say worships the devil. How could they see him as anything but endearing and brave? She shook her thoughts away quickly, remembering why she exclaimed about his purchase in the first place. “They, um, they have a new album coming out. In August, I think? Did you hear?” 

He was nodding his head enthusiastically before her question was even finished. “Of course, I heard.” He twisted his rings around each finger, grinning. “Do… uh, do you listen? To them, I mean.” (Y/N) hesitated, torn between telling the truth like she knew she should like she was raised to, and lying to sound cooler, for just the chance he’d think the awkward bookworm in English class was cool like he was. While she was caught in her own struggle, Eddie had seemed to grow nervous himself. “It’s just, you seemed really excited–”

“Yeah.”

Silence hung in the air between them, nothing but the sound of the guitar solo as background music, neither of them quite sure what she was saying ‘yes’ to. After a moment, Eddie tilted his head towards her in question. “...Yeah? You listen to them?” 

(Y/N) was nodding before she even understood what she was saying. A grin split across his face, so stunning and unlike anything she’d seen from him, that it wiped away the guilt of her bluff. A soft laugh rumbled out of him, and his pretty, dark eyes were on her in a way that had her stomach doing flips. “Wow, you don’t seem like the type.” Heat flooded her face. She prayed to anything out there that she wasn’t about to hurl in the trash can in front of him. “It’s just… Look at you, usually someone who looks like you isn’t cool like that, you know?” He seemed to notice her expression and motioned vaguely to her. With her colorful polo shirt and the ribbons tied in her hair, she was the picture of a ‘good girl’. Of course, she doesn’t listen to metal like he does. But he didn’t seem to notice. That, or he was challenging her. That would be stupid. “What’s your favorite song?” The simple question broke her down. She felt like he could see through her, transparent yet fully on display in front of him. Surely he’d seen through her lie. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by the whole interaction. 

She lifted the tape to draw his attention back to it. “It’s, um, six dollars.” 

His face fell, and the smile wiped away completely. “Right.” He pulled crumpled-up bills from his pocket and counted them quickly, his shaking fingers overlooked as she put it in the register. As she handed his receipt over, her eyes caught his, brows knitted together in deep concern, eyes wide and searching. She tore her gaze away. 

“Treat this one nicer, please.” 

She couldn’t bring herself to meet his dejected gaze, let alone watch him walk out the door. Instead, she stared at the paper in front of her with the note about the new Dio album, written in her pretty red ink until she heard the bell of the door opening and shutting behind him. Angered at herself for letting her meaningless crush get a hold of her, she stuffed the note in a drawer. Fuck Dio, fuck all these albums, fuck her boss, fuck herself for fucking up what could have been a cute moment with her crush. 

‘It’s more than a fee-’

Fuck this song. 

She slammed the radio off, content to sit and wallow in embarrassment for the rest of the day. 

Raw, gnawing guilt ate away at her through the rest of her shift, through her stocking duties after closing, through her whole bike ride home, and all the way up the stairs to her bedroom. As soon as she stepped into her room, with her perfectly made bed and neatly organized desk, she was intruded by thoughts of the metalhead she had spoken to that day. How he was the exact opposite- rough around the edges and loud- and how he would stand out with his leather and denim and wild curls laying against her pretty pastel comforter. How he would probably take up space in here, not only physically but simply with his energy and presence and mannerisms as if everything in her universe was gravitationally pulled towards him. 

She ripped those thoughts away and stored them for later. For now, there were other things to be done. 

From her work backpack, she pulled the tapes she had grabbed from the store and snuck home with her. Holy Diver. The Last In Line. There were only two albums, which made it easy enough for her to fit them both in one night. In her oversized Hawkins High t-shirt, she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor next to the cheap sticker-covered telecaster she had practically begged her parents to let her buy, and popped the first tape into her little pink radio, making sure to turn the volume down as low as she could. There’d be hell to pay if her parents caught her.

Come on, Dio, show me what you got. 

There was something embarrassing to her about listening to this. It felt strangely intimate, even though she knew it wasn’t, to listen to his favorite band just because it was his favorite band and she wanted to be interesting to him. If her parents found her listening to this…

But she wasn’t thinking about them, too lost in the sound coming from her speakers. So this is what Eddie Munson liked to listen to. She jumped up to grab her senior yearbook from her bookshelf, flipping through to exactly the right page, as if the book remembered and had molded to open immediately to that picture. Eddie Munson, circled with a red sharpie heart, posing among the rest of the Hellfire Club for their obligatory yearbook photo. He had his tongue stuck out, a wild look to him, devilish and taunting. It matched, she decided, even though she knew it was silly. He looked like his favorite music sounded. 

‘The Freak?’ Her friend had whispered junior year when she let a little secret slip about the crush she’d been harboring. ‘No way… you know what people say about him, right? You don’t want to get tangled up with that dirtbag. Your parents would kill you.’ 

I don’t care, (Y/N) thought in the present. Let them kill me. I want to get tangled up with him. 

For three days, (Y/N) suffered through her eight-hour shifts. For three days her eyes shot up to check the opening door at every ring of the bell, hoping it was him. And for three days, it wasn’t. For three days, she thought over what she would say if one of these days it was him. Then, on the fourth day, as she was ringing someone up— they were buying Agent Provocateur, the Foreigner album from last December, one that she really enjoyed herself, and couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie would listen with her— when the man in question stepped through the door, another cut-off tank-top, the same denim vest, the same rockstar hair. At first, (Y/N) didn’t believe her own eyes. She’d tricked herself into thinking she’d seen him a few times now, but as she gave a quick “Have a nice day” in her best customer service voice, their eyes met across the store.     

Neither tore their gaze away immediately like they had in their last interaction like lovesick fools caught staring across the classroom, but after a few moments, Eddie’s lips turned into an unsure smile, and (Y/N) finally set her gaze on the counter, guilt eating away at her over their parting. 

“Hey.”

She jumped, not having noticed him approaching in her peripherals.

“Sorry.” He offered a gentle apology, a half smile on his lips. His tank top was printed with Metallica, the same pins in his vest as always. His appearance was comforting and familiar. Like she always did when he was around, (Y/N) became overly aware of her own appearance, wondering if he thought she was weird, sitting cross-legged on a stool behind the counter, oversized ABBA shirt tucked into flared shorts, frilly socks peeking out from her sneakers and colorful barrettes in her hair. She hoped despite her thoughts that he didn’t think she looked silly. 

“It’s okay.” She cringed at how squeaky her voice came out.

“Okay.” He had a similar look of discomfort on his face. He played with his fingers again, twisting the rings around. There was a skull, what looked like a boar, and some other animals. She tried not to stare at the black ink on his forearms– the bats– or the dragon on his bicep. But her eyes gave her away, and as she met Eddie’s gaze, he was already watching. Watching her ogle him. 

“I like your dragon.” She pointed at it.

“Thanks.” Eddie smiled, appreciative. “It’s actually a wyvern.” (Y/N)’s brows furrowed, confused. “It just… a dragon with only two legs, really. That’s all.” Wordlessly, the expression on her face changed to one of understanding. Then, Eddie pointed a finger out, poking her own sparkly painted ones resting on the counter. He was warm against the cool of the fan blowing at them, even to the tips of his fingers. Then, he withdrew his hand quickly, as if remembering pointing was rude. Not that (Y/N) would have cared. She craved his attention. "I– I like your nails. They’re cool.” 

“Really?” She looked at them, the sparkly polish she’d applied the night before– while listening to that Dio album again, no less. The idea of him thinking they were cool was endearing to her. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah.” Then, Eddie held up his own hands, an open invitation for her to stare at them. “I’ve thought of painting mine. People already call me plenty of names, so what’s another, right?” He chuckled. 

(Y/N) frowned at the memory of what she’d heard people call him– to his face just as much as behind his back. Freak. Devil worshipper. No good dirtbag. Scum. Even queer. She winced as the word passed through her mind. He would look lovely with some black nail polish. It would suit him. She told him. 

“You think?” 

“Yeah.” 

They smiled at each other before (Y/N) noticed a customer standing behind Eddie. The boy followed her gaze and stepped aside for a little old lady, gesturing kindly for her to go ahead of him. (Y/N) rung her up– some oldie band on vinyl. 

“Oh, look at you, young man!” The woman fawned over him. “You look like a rockstar. Are you a rockstar?” 

Eddie flushed, smiling at the woman’s kind compliments. He looked cute when he was flustered. “Not quite a star, no.” 

“Well, you sure have the look for it, with all that hair!” Then, as (Y/N) handed her her purchase and receipt, she smiled fondly as she turned to leave. “You two are so lovely.”

After a shyly exchanged glance, Eddie responded. “Thank you, ma’am.”

When she was gone and Eddie stepped back to the counter, (Y/N) was suddenly more aware of their surroundings. She’d been getting lost in the pink-tinted haze of her crush standing in front of her for so long that she forgot she was still at work with customers around. “Did, um, did you have something to buy?” 

“Oh.” His cheeks tinted pink again as if they’d even stopped. He was cute when he got all rosy, the same way he was cute when he was talking about his favorite bands or his tattoos, and at the thought of him painting his nails. 

“Oh?” 

“No. No, I– I don’t have anything to buy. I just… came for… to talk?” 

(Y/N) froze, shocked. “Talk?” He came just to see me. 

“Yeah– I, I guess.” 

“You came just to talk to… me?” 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” She didn't answer, just glancing at his attire and down to her own. He seemed to follow her eyes, understanding. “Do you think I’m scaryyyy?” He teased, dragging out the end of the word. 

“N-no, just–” She faltered, and he waited patiently when she expected him to interrupt. “You’re you and I’m… me.” 

His mouth opened. He hesitated. There was something he wanted to say. Again, he fidgeted with his rings. “I actually… wanted to apologize. About that.” 

“For, for spooking me earlier?” 

“No, no. About last time.” 

(Y/N) frowned at his words, wondering what reason he had to apologize. He’d been nothing but a perfect gentleman, from her recollection, if a bit awkward and shy. He was watching her with truly regretful eyes, twisting the rings around his fingers. “What?” 

“For, I- for assuming, I guess? What I said, that you didn’t look cool, it was totally dick-ish of me.” He stumbled over his words. When she still didn’t say anything, he dipped his head towards her, as if trying to grab her attention back to him. “I do think you look cool, really, just, I guess, not how I’d imagined. I mean, with you listening to Dio and- I just didn’t expect…”

“Eddie.” She stopped him with her hands held up, letting his name pass her lips for the first time- the first of many, as she’d later find out. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I was rude to you.”

He was silent for a bit, rocking back and forth on his feet as if he had something to say and couldn’t stand still. (Y/N) watched as a playful smile began to pull up at the corners of his pretty lips, obvious that he was trying to hide it, trying to push it down, and clear he was weighing the outcome of the words he could say. The Cars were playing on the radio next to them- “I don’t mind you coming here…”- and his ringed fingers were tapping along to the rhythm. Before she could ask, though, a full grin split across his face, all shame thrown to the wind. Softer, now, with mirth in his eyes, he mused. “You remember me?” 

Eddie.

They stood in the silence of her little slip-up for a few moments longer, her cheeks growing hot while he grinned down with such an amused look on his face. How could she even respond? Her heart was pounding in her ears. Of course, she remembered him. She had spent two years admiring him from a distance. But surely someone who was the target of so many awful rumors and had gained such notoriety as the town pariah wouldn’t be forgotten so easily. 

“Of course, I remember you. Who doesn’t?”

He pointed at her, that grin not leaving his pretty lips as he twirled a curly lock around his finger. “Ah, I guess you got me there, (Y/N).” 

Time could have stopped, and (Y/N) never would have noticed, not with the sound of her name falling out of Eddie’s mouth like that. I was a given that she had remembered him, but what made her so special that he remembered her presence, let alone her name? She noticed, at that quiet moment, locked in his gaze, that her heartbeat was in tempo with the song. She gathered up all her courage.

“You… remember me?” 

He scoffed, feigning offense. “You think I could forget you?”

Yes, of course, she thought, I was nobody important. “But– how? Our only class together was--” 

“--Mrs. O’Donnell’s senior English class. First semester.” He finished, eyes twinkling with glee. “You helped me with notes when I forgot them… which was… just about every test.” He laughed.

She flustered at the memory. In O’Donnell’s class, students would group together and exchange notes on each night's reading before class began, and (Y/N) had always noticed no one went up to Eddie. Fitting, she’d thought, everyone thinks he’s awful. One day, before a particularly big test, as everyone partnered up, gathering their desks together into little groups, she decided to bite the bullet and approach him. He was doodling on the corner of his paper when she greeted him, and he’d looked up as if he’d never been spoken to before. 

“Hi.” 

“Um, hi?” 

Her confidence was dripping away with every second of his eyes on her. Other students must have been watching too. Maybe he was mean and scary like everyone assumed. “I’m, um.” She lifted up her notes, gesturing to them. “Do you want to go over our notes together?” 

His eyes widened, a deer caught in headlights, brows raising into his shaggy bangs. “I- I don’t- I didn’t take any notes.” His voice was quiet, so unlike the other times she’d seen him and his theatrics.

Her sneaking suspicion had been true, though she didn’t want to unfairly believe it. “We have a test today, you know? Open notes. Did you even read the assigned section?” He shook his head. Looking back, she cringed at how she sounded and hoped Eddie hadn’t thought she was stuck up. She was, ultimately, just concerned for him. He was already in his second attempt at senior year, and (Y/N) hated seeing people struggle with no help. “That’s okay. Here, quick, pull out a paper and write my notes down.” 

 “Well, yeah. No one else was helping you. I thought it was unfair.” 

He nodded, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as if she’d hit the nail on the head. “And that’s why I remember you. You know, I think you’re the only reason I passed that class.” A shy smile fluttered onto her face, butterflies filling her up and making her dizzy on her feet. She leaned against the counter, and Eddie matched her pose with a smile, laying his forearms out towards her and leaning in. “Now that we’ve gotten these introductions out of the way, why were you apologizing?” 

Flustered, though newly confident on the high that her high school crush remembered her as more than just a wallflower like most people in school thought of her, she opened her mouth and let her bluff fall out. “I lied to you.” 

His eyebrows pinched together, the sudden confession confusing him. 

“The other day, when you asked me if I listened to Dio.” She couldn’t stop the words from flowing. “I said yes. I lied. I didn’t listen to them. I wanted to sound cool–” Like you are, she meant, but she caught herself. 

Eddie stayed frozen for a few moments, gears turning in his head as he sized her up with searching eyes. (Y/N) watched him, embarrassed, and sure this would be the end of their short-lived friendship. Now, he thought she was weird, a liar, not trustworthy. But instead, he nudged her arm with his own, laughing— a sound that erased all of her worries just like that. “I don’t think most people around here would call that cool. Different, definitely. Satanic, probably.” He chuckled, a bitter edge to it. “Take it from me. Don’t go around getting associated with my type of stuff. People will think I’ve corrupted you.”

I don’t care. I want to get tangled up with him.

“I think it’s cool.” She insisted. “It’s music. Loud, heavy music. But it’s music. And I think it– and you– are cool.” 

His cheeks tinted pink, a smile sliding out the corner of his lips as he ducked his head a bit shyly, hair shielding his face. “Well, flattery sure does work on me, huh?”  

(Y/N) sucked up all of her breath at that statement. She could sit down and flatter him for hours, compliment his bravery, his passion, the way he made her feel. But, instead, she could think of something else he might appreciate. “Rainbow In The Dark.”

“What?” 

“Dio. It’s my favorite song… I think. They have a lot of good ones. But I like that one a lot.” 

His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, as if his words were stuck halfway out, eyes sparkling. “I thought you didn’t listen?” 

“I… Well, I didn’t. But I did, then. That night.” She reached into her bag at her feet and pulled out the two tapes she had been sneaking home, setting them on the counter between them. Eddie huffed out of his nose, a lighthearted sound. Amused. She smiled, proud. She had flabbergasted Eddie Munson. He was smiling, and it was at something she had done in thinking about him. Her heart swelled. “So, yeah. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

“Huh.” 

“Huh?” 

He was so close to her that she could see his dark eyes darting back and forth between hers. “Rainbow is pretty cool. It suits you, I think.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How?” 

A verbal tennis match. Eddie smiled. “I don’t know. Just does. Believe me.” 

“Because it’s one of their more poppy-sounding ones? Do you think I’m poppy?”

“Do you think I’m scary?” He countered.

“Hey, I already said no to that!” When he cocked an eyebrow at her, she grinned. “I like the synth in it. It's cool sounding."

Now, he full-on laughed, leaning back from the counter they were leaning in together on. When he stopped, something softer came over his eyes, and he twisted his rings around. He was nervous. “Do you think... Um. Can, um, can I give you my number?” 

(Y/N)’s heart thumped in her chest. She could barely hear the song anymore with how loud her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. Through the drumming broke Eddie’s voice, the lighthouse to her ship stuck out at stormy sea, asking if she’d heard him. Of course, she had. Her attention had been on him since the second he'd walked through that door. “Your number?” 

“Yeah.” He let the word out in a breath, eyes searching yours, frantic. He lifted a hand to his head, scratching the back of his neck. She tried not to stare at his bicep. “I’d like to talk music more with you. Sometime. Catch up, maybe? It– I mean, if that’s okay with you. If you want to. I want…  you’ll have to call me, first, so you can take your time–”

“Eddie.” The second time she said his name aloud, it was with a smile. Nervous, wide-eyed, with a dazed smile on her face. If she had known, mere days ago, that her high school crush would be giving her his number… If high school her could see this… She pushed her journal towards him, open to a blank page. “You can give me your number.” 

A wide, toothy grin split across his face, squishing his cheeks up and crinkling his eyes. It was beautiful. He nodded, his hair bobbing. “Shit, cool. Okay. Cool.” His fingers were shaking visibly as he reached for the pen. In glittery red, he scribbled out ten digits, large fingers looking comical on the small pen. He signed his name below it, a mere scribble of capital letters. EDDIE. “Oh, um. If you call and… and I'm not there, if an older man answers who’s not me, don’t think I gave you the wrong number. I live with my uncle.” 

“Good to know.”

“So, uh.” Eddie shifted on his feet, smiling. “I should… probably go, sadly.” 

“Okay.” She was doing everything she could to keep composed, but her grin was eating her cheeks, her face burning hot to the touch, and she felt dizzy and delirious in this feeling. She had his number. His number. Were they friends now? What did this mean for them? They had spoken for the first time post-high school four days ago, and now she had his number?

He took a few steps back, taking all the time in the world before finally letting his hands slide off the counter. “So, um. Call me, I guess?” The words felt foreign on his tongue as he backed towards the door. 

“I’ll call you.” They felt foreign on hers too. 

He grinned one last time, waving his hand and not turning around fully until he was at the door. The bell began to ding as he cracked it open, turning over his shoulder as if he didn’t want to leave yet. Through a smile, he called, “See you later, (Y/N).” And then he was gone.

The second time Eddie Munson said her name aloud, her heart felt fuzzy and warm. 

She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time.

Thank you for reading!!!!!!! I won't lie, the entire idea from this fic came from listening to this first song and imagining a 'looking up and seeing the one' moment at the chorus. it just fits. and then I imagined an entire relationship so here we go. The whole premise of the fic is gonna be about their friendship and relationship growing and them learning and being dorks together.

This is the first chapter of at least a few, so be sure to stick around for more!!! I hope you enjoy all the upcoming song references and blatant 80s tropes and awkward teen things in every chapter and check out the official playlist too!!!

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS AND ASKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

— lylia

TRACK ONE | NEXT TRACK >>>

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

-

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

-

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

-

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

-

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

-

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

-

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

-

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

-

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

-

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Your secret fling with Eddie Munson hadn't gone entirely under wraps, particularly to the know-it-all, Dustin Henderson. With the help of Robin and Steve, the three conspire to reveal the truth, resulting in two of the most awkward people going on a date together...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, slight crying, alcohol consumption, awkwardness, insecurities, closeted sexuality, implied coming out, secret relationship, and some explicit sexual content: fondling, mention of porn, mention of oral, and unprotected vaginal sex (fairly minor, not the focal point).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This piece has literally been sitting in my Google Docs since June 26th, because when rewatching Friends, I though it would be a cute idea for a fic, so you'll see a lot of lines and parallels from the episode (season 5, episode 14). It's devastatingly unfortunate Matthew Perry passed when I was finishing this up. So, in memory of him and a toast to friendship, here is this fic. Be safe, appreciate life, and enjoy <3 I love you all.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“Did you guys see that?!” A pointed finger of accusation was targeted against Eddie Munson, completely oblivious to his knowledge. 

Steve Harrington had grimaced at the mush that was once a solid cheeseburger residing inside the slobbery mouth of Dustin Henderson, as the kid spoke with such urgency, clearly unperturbed by his lack of food etiquette and social decorum. But such skills could not be expected much from Dustin Henderson. That is unless, of course, an actual adult of authority had been in the presence, to which a gummy smile was expected to assuage whatever insulting comment about the need for manners that “The Hair” would proffer in disgust. 

It was the second Saturday in a row that Steve’s been bombarded by the abuse of the children to let his residence be used for a pool party. He doesn’t understand how exactly he lost the backbone to say no to four teenagers, but the phenomenon had manifested into reality, and at the very least, a compromise was made for the young adults—of whatever weird mesh of a friend group this was between older teens, younger teens, crossover shebang—to tag along for a hot afternoon of relaxation.

“Yeah, Eddie’s hair totally looks like a wet mop.” Max Mayfield snickered between her sips of a twisty-straw-in-lemonade action. In truth, seeing lushes locks of black stick to his face and neck was quite amusing, especially when made worse as the metalhead re-calibrated like a dog, shaking his hair as a means of getting rid of the chlorine water that weighed down his head. One that could always get a good chuckle out of anyone. 

“No! Not that! That!” The ghost trail that was of Eddie Munson walking inside the Harrington villa, as pointed to by Dustin as a means of evidence, did little to provide any context of support to whatever it was he was avowing about this time. In many instances, those close to him knew to just let his diatribes continue without interference. The kid’s standards were impossibly high; people’s mistakes of simple wrongdoings were always criticized by his superiority. ‘“Oh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick.’” Dustin mimicked, mocking the voice of his Dungeon Master with dramatic gestures of flailing arms. A testament surely to get his character killed in next week’s campaign, should he have been caught by the man. 

“Yeah, Dustin, that’s kinda, like, a natural occurrence in life.” Mike Wheeler deadpanned with a patronizing voice to annoy, as it’d been known to exasperate his friend. It’d even gained a couple laughs from the lounging bodies strewn about in the breadth of the gardened backyard. 

Lucas Sinclair had jumped at the opportunity to prod further, barking a deafening cackle. “Yeah, remember that bomb you dropped after the school’s attempt to serve enchiladas?” He slapped his knee with joy. “You had the janitor running from the stalls!”

That one really got a good laugh out of everyone. But before Max could even venture at an attempt to cater for further details, Dustin struck on offense to defend his honor from the sharings of his intimate privacy, definitively emphasized with an agitated tone of vexation. “No, no! You pinky swore that you’d never speak of it! Do I need to tell everyone what Erica found under your bed?!” Old reliable; blackmail, the bargain of a lifetime.

“The hell is under your bed, man?” Steve pondered, flipping a seared patty with a slab of American cheese ready to go. If it was anything like what was under his bed, he’d surely want no one to know.

“Nothing!”

“What I thought.” Dustin muttered with a glare, as Lucas shrunk in his chair to evade any potential threats of further questions that lay on the tips of his friends’ nosy tongues. “But again, that is not what I am talking about.”  

Always the civil one out of the Wheeler clan, Nancy reassuringly stepped up to support her brother’s friend in need, settling everyone down. “We’re sorry, Dustin, go ahead.” It was to be expected she’d gain a heartfelt thank you from Dustin Henderson, himself, once the debacle simmered and the turbulence had passed. Nancy Wheeler always did have a special place in the kid’s big heart, particularly after the caring gesture of the 1984 Hawkins Middle’s Snow Ball Dance. 

“How can you all be so blind?!” Dustin seethed. “You’re telling me none of you find it even a little suspicious that Eddie just so happened to go to the 'bathroom' right after Y/N’s excuse of wanting to 'change,' like, hello?!” He huffed. “They’re totally screwing!”

Dustin Henderson felt devastatingly vanquished when a unanimous vote of disbelieving what’s hurtled his way with no mercy. He felt useless- undermined. Like the bag of Fritos left behind when children would rather fight over Doritos or Sour Cream n’ Onion Lays, rather than appreciate the artistry of a simple corn chip, left alone and forgotten until a last resort when moms took too long to make dinner; never to be cherished in the dark corner of the bulk size box of Frito-Lays. Of course, they wouldn’t believe him. They didn’t witness what he had to tragically witness. He heard it so vividly. So hauntingly vivid. Sometimes, it kept the poor boy up at night. Last week- last Friday- Hellfire’s Friday, such an exhilarating night now befouled by the auditory version of what he learned in the ninth grade compulsory course of sexual education. 

How naive of him to believe your actions stemmed from the kindness of your heart; offering your chauffeuring abilities to pick up the freshman after their campaigns, sauntering inside with a sickeningly sweet smile to pair with your tender greetings, and always wanting to lend a helping hand to the Dungeon Master, because “it just seems like so much to clean.” Puh-lease! The signs had been flashing in his face. The ulterior motives screaming in his ear. What sane person deliberately chooses to waste their time picking up three boys revved up with excitement and sweat after the thrills of Dungeons and Dragon? Jesus, shit, it was Friday night, don’t you have any plans?! Yeah, plans to stick your tongue down their Dungeon Master’s throat. Tainting the sanctity of Hellfire with your debauchery. 

Dustin Henderson had forgotten his dice. Sometimes, he wishes he would have just let the damn things go. 

“God, baby, a quickie- let’s just do it right here real quick.” Eddie’s begging voice vibrated behind the closed door of the drama department, seeping through the open cracks beneath the door, all for Dustin’s ears to hear. 

And he tried to give him the benefit of the doubt- the kid really did. Pet names were far from unusual by use of Eddie Munson. The one instance the Byers dropped back into Hawkins during Spring Break, it was no doubt Will the Wise had to get a taste of the new man running the show, and when Eddie had given Byers the innocent compliment of being such a sweetheart, the kid blushed into oblivion, stuttering a thank you in return. Hell, not to mention the infamous “big boy” that followed Steve Harrington around wherever the man took on motherly duties. So, Dustin brushed it off. But the moment had quickly transpired into something cringe worthy to the fourteen-year-old who didn’t know better. It should have been his cue to run, but the fiery design of his dice cost him six bucks of his chores earning, and they weren’t about to be discarded, as if the sweat of his forehead meant nothing from an afternoon of bending over the mop bucket to clean the kitchen floors. 

There are moments at night when he speculates if this is the doings of the heavenly man above that his beloved, Suzie Bingham, always mentioned; punishing Dustin in consequence of eavesdropping on a private matter that surely was not intended to be heard. But can you really call it eavesdropping when you were merely trying to retrieve your dice? No! You can’t!

“They’re already waiting for me in the car.” You whined against his lips. The figurine that was poking your hip was the last thing accounted for in your mind, as Eddie had showcased you onto the wooden table of the prop room. Lips smeared against yours, his hand had squeezed a chunk of your meaty thigh, bringing you forth to keep you in close company. “We can’t.” Can’t what, huh? Find the dignity to do it outside of school grounds?! Freaks!

“Little shits.” Dustin had appallingly gasped at the insult, feeling the stabbing wound of betrayal hit him in the chest as you laughed along, hand clutched over his heart to appease the pain of such affliction. The dramatics. “Come to my place after.” Eddie delicately kissed loving pecks to your lips. “That way,” his finger trailed up your thigh, “we can have our alone time, and I can finally get a taste of that pretty pu-”

Dustin Henderson knew to run away at that point. Safe to say, the kid never got his dice back.

“Are you insane?!” Motherly hand on the hip, Dustin didn’t appreciate Steve’s disciplinary tone of voice, sounding too much like his mother, Ms. Claudia Henderson, for his liking, as everyone agreed with Harrington’s proclaimed delusion against the boy. “Munson doesn’t have the skills to screw, let alone someone as hot as her.” He chuckled in disbelief.

Oh, boy, was he wrong.

“Mm, j-just like that, uh!” Your pelvis pummeled into the sink, tainting the precisely picked pristine porcelain by Mrs. Harrington, herself, as Eddie rutted his hips into the dampness that was your bikini bottoms to chase a release that was on the brink of snapping.

It was your fault he claimed; prancing in a top and bottom that left little to the imagination. Accusations of your outfit being chosen to taunt him were thrown your way, and your faux innocence only cemented it further. “Fuck- fucking take it—ugh, s-shit—take this fucking cock!” How could this ever be seen as a punishment when your boyfriend was lighting your body on fire with the ecstasy of abusing your g-spot?

Perhaps having sex in the bathroom of your mutual friend was far from the ethical rules of friendship, but the act of secrecy had bred a burning excitement that neither of you could contain. And, given the fact that four weeks ago, Steve had poked fun at Eddie’s singleness—not that Steve had any room to joke, though, at least, “The King” was relishing in the funness of meaningless hookups, something Eddie surely didn’t partake in, he lovingly had you—so seeking revenge in fucking his hot girlfriend in his friend’s bathroom had stirred something menacing in Eddie’s head to truly not give a single care in what he was doing was wrong. 

“Yes! Yes! I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Fingers tightening on the edge of the sink, your heart soared watching the reflection of Eddie’s mouth panting with want, as he fucked your pussy, ready to release his load deep inside. His hands had snaked to grab handfuls of your bouncing tits, groaning as he felt your nipples poke through the coldness of your wet bikini top.  

His hips harshly snapped against your rippling ass. “Cum all over my cock- shit! C’mon, pretty girl, fucking soak me- take all o’ me!” It barely felt as though he was pulling out, merely drilling in deeper and deeper. “I’m gonna cum- fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”

“They are totally screwing!” The curls of Dustin Henderson’s head were on the verge of being ripped out in frustration; all that work he so earnestly dedicated night and day to maintain the silky bounce was about to be all for nothing. “They are! I heard them!”

Wrong choice of words. “You were listening to them screw?!” Robin gagged, triggering an onslaught of ew’s and perv’s- well, really, Max Mayfield had been the only one calling her friend a perv, doing it in the relaxation of her lounging chair, teasing behind her newly gifted heart-shaped sunglasses. 

“No! No!” Dustin shouted in clarification. “I wasn’t listening! I heard them talking about it!” He agonized. “They’ve been doing it for at least a week! Behind our backs!”

“Oh!” Max ventured. “Let’s bet, I say they’ve been engaged for four months, and are pregnant!” She heckled, now clearly just taking the piss out of him. 

“Has the water gone from your ears to your brain?” Robin laughed in his face. Surely the kid was mistaken, right? Aside from her personal himbo—Steve hated the nickname—you and Nancy Wheeler had become her newfound best friends. You know, a united front against the boys, girl talk, the whole shebang about girl code? Secrets weren’t a thing between your three! Granted, Robin, herself, was harboring a pretty large secret that only her himbo knew of, but that was different! Boys were nothing, she would gladly hear about all her friends’ boy problems, indulging in the drama of long distance or whatever the hell there was to complain about, but girls?! Yeah, that was, uh, that was just something- a topic still unbreached… at least, until she was ready.

“Fine!” The boy heaved, bailing out on defending his stance any further. “You guys don’t wanna believe, that’s just fine.” He snided. “But when they come back, and Y/N hasn’t changed out of her bathing suit, you won’t be laughing now!” Dustin Henderson ended his tirade with an embittered bite to his burger, dramatically dropping into his pool chair. 

They’d all learn soon, and bow down to him. 

So now, everyone waited. Waited for the fateful moment that would either prove Dustin Henderson right or wrong. And unfortunately- for you and Eddie, at least, your steamy escapade on the sink of the Harrington bathroom had left you too dazed and forgetful in the post-orgasmic bliss that was heavy breaths and loving touches of aftercare to keep up with the said excuse of “changing out of wet clothes” that got you alone with Eddie Munson in the first place. So when you marched out, glowing and relaxed—exactly two minutes and thirty-four seconds after Eddie’s “bathroom break” (so thoughtfully executed)—in the same damp bikini that had your secret boyfriend riled up to begin with, everyone gasped. 

“What?” You looked around confused. 

Unbeknownst to you, Dustin Henderson took a cheesy bite of his burger, loudly sipping a carbonated gulp of his cold Coke, ready to snap his fingers for another round of meals for his peasant friends to fetch. 

He was right. 

-

Robin Buckley confirmed it next. 

That Monday to come, Robin was staggering over the words of Dustin Henderson, and trying to piece the evidence presented to understand what was transpiring in your double life. The events after your return from “changing” left you confused by the jarring stares of six pairs of eyes testing you. Nancy, with the softest approach, had questioned you on the lack of new clothes on your body, to which your knight in shining armor—or accomplice—stepped up to save you from the army of prodding friends. “A knot in my hair, yeah, I distracted her to help me get a knot out of my hair.” Sure, Eddie, sure. 

During the uproarious minutes of lunchtime, you’d been ready to get an afternoon break from school to fork through Hawkins High’s poor excuse as to what constitutes consumable food, when the sudden scrutiny from Robin Buckley began. And, my god, was she persistent. 

In the comical marching band she suited, Robin Buckley had rushed her attempt to the first approach. “Hey, Robs. You think I can borrow your notes for Civics, I-”

“So, I hear Jonathan’s coming back from California next week!” Something about rashly eating the served cut peaches seemed to play up to the normal act Robin was going for, but truthfully, it just made you eye her strange behavior weirdly.

“Oh.” You accepted the out-of-nowhere information. Maybe you won’t do so good on Mr. Vortroski’s test on Supreme Court cases as you originally thought. “That’s great for Nance-”

“Isn’t it?!” The enthusiasm she was exerting was truly taking it over the top. But Robin Buckley had a heart for caring, and perhaps the excitement for her friend was really bubbling up today. “Nancy said they’ve been planning, like, a lot of dates, you know, to catch up on lost time?” You casually nodded along. “Single dates, double dates… and then I was thinking, hey!” She perked. “Y/N’s young and good looking! She’s probably seeing someone! So are you, I don’t know, seeing someone? Anyone? Tall, dark hair? Anyone?”

“Uh…” Yeah, maybe the hastiness of Robin’s impetuous nature wasn’t the best route to go with. “No, um, no I’m not seeing anyone.” You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nance and Jonathan are gonna have to find someone else to double date with- oh, maybe Steve! What’s that girl's name he’s been seeing, Brenda? Beatrice? Actually, you know what, it’ll probably be really awkward to ask your ex-boyfriend on a double date with your current bo-”

“You’re seriously not seeing anyone?!” Robin’s brows furrowed with frustration. You were lying to her face- you were lying straight to your best friend’s face! “Nobody? No one?” You begrudgingly shook your head. “No thing?”

“Robin,” you chuckled, “is there something you want to tell me?” There were lots of things Robin Buckley wanted to tell you. Like, for starters, the newfound revelation that she likes how she looks with mascara, after you left yours on the dresser of her bedroom during your sleepover two weeks ago. She had no plans of returning it back to you, either. Or, possibly the fact that Bridget—the actual name of Steve’s newest lover—stole his Farrah Fawcett hairspray- or the fact that Steve uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray. Maybe the other thing, as in the strange occurrence that happens to her heartbeat whenever Vickie from chemistry happens to be around. Or, the other other thing, like the fact that she spent an obscene amount of minutes staring at cover of “Scissoring with Seduction” starring Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond, after organizing the adult films section at Family Video- actually, scratch that, she’d never tell a soul about that, not even Steve Harrington. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” She shot back with fervency. 

“No…?” Your questioning answer had your friend igniting her dramatic flare, slumping in her seat with a defeated huff. Dustin Henderson would surely be owed a duly apology. At this point, you’d like to say this weirded you out, but you lived in Hawkins, Indiana. You’ve seen weirder. 

Evidently not sufficed with your response, your friend sat up onto perched elbows. “Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right?” A sincere approach. Undoubtedly better. “Like, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff. I won’t judge or anything.” Robin solemnly smiled at you. 

Your tender hand squeezed her arm. “I know.” You beamed. “I hope you know that the same goes for you, Robs. If you ever have anything you need to tell me, I’ll always be here to listen to you. Probably give you way better advice than Stevie.” You both chuckled at the expense of Steve Harrington. Robin Buckley understood the feeling of not being ready for the world to know, because knowing would change the dynamics of life, and having the world suddenly perceive you in a way they never have before was scary. 

Having the world hate you for the tender love you caressed your partner with was terrifying. 

You’d tell her when you were ready, just as she would with you. 

With a nod to her head, she patted your hand. “You know, I asked Steve once on tips to upgrade my look, and he legit told me to do my eyebrows like Pamela Anderson.” 

“The himbo, himself, is too unknowledgeable to know that Miss Anderson is the only one capable of pulling off the blonde bombshell look. Though, I would love to see him with pencil brows and blue eyeshadow.” You both laughed, before you reached over to pinch her chin. “Plus, your beautiful self doesn’t need any changing, Robs. Anyone would be lucky to wake up next to it.”

Yeah, she’d simply tell you when she was ready, just as you would with her.

By three o’clock, Robin Buckley had been worn down by the insufferable compulsion that was Mr. Heizer’s fifth period calculus class. With the last day of school being around the corner, Robin wondered what warranted Heizer’s balding head to be so miserable that he felt the need to subject his students with the abuse of derivatives. Trudging her feet against the pavement of the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve Harrington had came into view, where he brandished himself atop the hood of his car. Not the most irregular of sights, given the systemic routine of drop off and pick-up that had been structured for Monday through Friday, though today, Dustin Henderson had managed to find Steve’s BMW through the array of parked cars, and was found yapping his ear off. 

So sorely critical-looking, Robin couldn’t help but tiredly chuckle. “What’s with the wrinkles, kid?” She approached.

Dustin huffed, letting his arms dramatically drop to his side in desperation. “Steve won’t go along with my plan!”

“What are you even doing here, Dustin, isn’t your mother, like, first in line at the car riders pick-up?” She laughed. 

Steve exasperated. “He waved off his poor mother, like the lunatic he is, just to track me down and tell her I was giving him a ride!” He answered, propelling Dustin to gasp with a snide.

“So we can talk about the plan!” Dustin provoked the Italian—that he probably didn’t actually have—within him, as his loose fist shook in Steve’s vicinity. 

“What plan?” Robin interjected. 

“The plan to expose Y/N and Eddie!” Dustin stressed. 

“Eddie and Y/N are not screwing.” Steve deadpanned. “What happened Saturday was just… some fluke coincidence, not proof to anything, okay? So let it go, Dustin. Just face it, you were wrong.” He chuckled a very much unappreciated chuckle in Dustin’s face. 

“I am not wrong! I know what I heard! How many times do I have to be right on the money for you all to just trust me?!” Neither Steve or Robin appreciated the numerous stares the freshman was gathering from leaving classmates and faculty. 

“Okay, just calm down, alright.” Robin shushed. “You're right-”

“Ha!”

“But I don’t think we should do anything.” Dustin heaved, scowling at Robin as if she just committed sacrilege. 

“Are you crazy? Of course, we should totally do something!” Dustin retorted. “This is big news! Two of our best friends are dating! You know what this means?! I could have parents, Robin, and you know I don’t have a dad, do you really want to be the reason I never have a dad?” A pointed finger targeted her. 

Her hand worked swiftly to smack his accusing finger away. “Eddie is not your dad, Christ, he’s not dating your mom.” She annoyingly sighed.

“Yeah, and also, I’ve known you for way longer. If anyone’s gonna be your dad, it’s gonna be me, not Munson.” Steve exhorted with ire. 

Dustin mockingly laughed. “Please, you and mother have the same hips.” 

Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson were too engrossed in their conversation to bring any of their attention to Steve Harrington’s insulted gasp. “Look, Dustin, I already tried asking Y/N about it, and she’s just not ready to talk about it.” She explained. “Let’s just drop it until they’re ready to tell us.”

“Okay, but we can help them talk about it.” The kid returned with retaliation. “You know how great it was to see Nancy and Jonathan finally get together?”

“Which came at my expense, by the way.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t know why that brings you such joy.”

“Well, this is Y/N and Eddie, it’s even bigger!” Dustin smiled. “Look, all I’m saying is that a little encouragement never hurt anybody.” Call the boy annoying, he already knew that, but his intentions were coming from good faith. The notion of helping his friends find love- or more so express it, had him bubbling with excitement. “And the only way to get this love story rolling is if we get them to crack.”

Steve groaned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, we have to make them break first.” Dustin was beginning to get his crazy eyes, something about conspiring a plan had him menacingly smirking his enthusiastic grin. “You know, trick them into telling us.”

Robin sighed, drilling the palm of her hands into her eyes. “Okay, you know what? Do whatever you like, Dustin, but I will not be a part of this plan.”

“Of course, you will!” Dustin implored with desperate hands grabbing at her arms to shake with emphasis. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to flirt with Eddie.”

Robin and Steve blurted in disbelief. “What?!”

“Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it.” Dustin rationalized. 

“Woah, woah, wait a second, what makes you think she wouldn’t go for me?” Steve plowed on, his ego taking an obvious hit by a child six years his age. “I’m a total catch, the ladies love me!” He argued. “And Robin, she can’t flirt with Eddie, she’s… uh, well, she- she just can’t!” He stepped up to try to help his friend, much to Robin’s appreciation.

Dustin sighed, placing a tender hand upon Steve’s shoulder. “Look, Steve, you gotta get over this crush you have on Robin-”

“I do not have a crush on Robin!” Steve flung Dustin’s arm away. “And back to this ‘Y/N not going for me’ thing, I can totally flirt with her to get her to crack!”

Dustin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he was the adult in this situation. “Steve, c’mon, she calls you himbo behind your back, she probably thinks you have no personality.” 

“I have personality!”

“No, you have hair!” 

In the midst of the commotion, Eddie Munson had sauntered his way out of the double doors, cigarette in hand to relinquish the stress brought upon him throughout the day. Despite the matter that his van had been haphazardly parked on the west end of the parking lot for reasons being that your pretty self always used the end doors for the less crowded purposes—sue him, he loved the view—there was always something about Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson arguing that always brought happy entertainment for the metalhead. 

“Trouble in paradise?” His croaking voice startled the group, as they all looked at him stunned. “Jesus Christ, what’s with the faces?” Eddie laughed, as his cigarette scraped along the wetness of lips. 

“N-Nothing.” Robin awkwardly had to offer, forcing Eddie to raise a brow at her.

And then he spoke. Dustin fucking Henderson spoke. “Actually! Uh, R-Robin what were you saying about Eddie just now?” She snapped a deadly glare back at him, to which he gladly challenged with a grating smile that had Steve quietly laughing in the back.  

“You talkin’ about me behind my back, Buckley? C’mon, I thought we were friends.” Eddie lightly jabbed, as he paid more attention to his lighter, which was taking multiple rounds of clicks until it ignited. 

“Nothing.” She assured. “I said nothing.”

“No, no, you were saying something about his outfit.” Dustin encouraged. God, how ethical was it to beat up a child? “About how he… looks nice.” 

Robin sighed, as Eddie gave her a lighthearted smile. “Thanks, Rob, I’m really liking those patches.” He pointed to her sweater, finding nothing but the innocence of friendship in her supposed compliment. 

“A-And something about his large muscles.” A curl of his hair was absentmindedly twirled as to appear uninvolved in the scheme of his mischief, and right as Eddie’s eyes left Dustin with a confused stare, the kid’s arm shoved Robin’s back to coach her further. 

So, Robin Buckley, simply accepted. Though, tapping into her retired career of one year in drama club when she got the gracious role of playing Mrs. Soames in last year's production of Our Town proved to lack any skills training, when attempting to flirt with Eddie Munson had her stuttering like a child learning to speak. Then again, playing Mrs. Soames in Our Town didn’t exactly require her to flirt with her friend’s secret boyfriend who was a man!

“Y-Yeah, Eddie, uh, that m-material.” Robin bunglingly smiled, as a stiff hand touched the leather of his coat. “O-Oh, well, hello, Mr. B-Bicep.” She mentally prepared herself for the moment Steve Harrington would belittle her to death for her lack of flirting skills whenever this mess was over.  “You’ve been, uh, working out?” 

Attempting to give her the benefit of the doubt, Eddie chose to assuage the painful discomfiture with his casual sarcasm. “Ah, well, I try to, y’know, squeeze things.” Eddie recoiled at her over-the-top laugh that appeared too similar to that of Heidi Wilson’s, when she ran into him and Steve in the food court of Starcourt Mall last week, looking to allure his friend with whatever screech that was. “You okay?”

“Uh-”

“She’s just having guy problems.” Dustin interjected, much to Robin’s dismay. Never. Never in a million years would Robin Buckley ever have guy problems. “Go on, tell him.” 

Yeah, Dustin Henderson wouldn’t see the age sixteen. “Well, uh, you know how you’re s-sometimes just looking for something, a-and don’t even realize that it’s, um, right there in front of you... s-smoking a cigarette?”

Eddie looked down at the lit cigarette in his mouth, and quickly stepped back in panic, all while Steve Harrington’s cheeks puffed with laughter, as his sealed lips worked overtime to not guffaw out loud. “U-Um, yeah, okay, I’m gonna go.” Eddie could only spare a quick glance to Robin, before throwing everyone a small wave goodbye. 

Robin Buckley watched him walk away for two seconds, before slowly turning to Dustin Henderson, where he was met with her twitching eye. “You have five seconds to run.”

His mouth fell gape. “But wait, Steve’s my ride-”

“Five!” 

That Monday afternoon, Dustin Henderson spent forty-five grueling minutes walking the three mile hike to his home, as punishment per Robin Buckley’s request. And yes, she did wave him goodbye, when Steve Harrington’s BMW swiftly passed him on the way over. 

-

Steve Harrington confirmed it next. 

And maybe was a little asshole about it. 

Benny’s Burger had become the choice of dinner for the mundane Monday night he was currently enduring, because Eddie Munson refused to hit up the bar, despite the common courtesy that buying beers had become for the twenty-year-old men. At the very least, greasy burgers with a cigarette to follow would be the accommodation Eddie Munson could offer, since Steve Harrington had lost his weekly hookup, because his personal wingman decided to fall into a secret relationship- presumably. Steve was choosing to balance on the fence of whether or not to believe the words of a fourteen-year-old, mostly because if he did, Steve Harrington would become subjected to the sanctimonious behavior of a cocky teenager. 

And who would want that? 

“Lemme do a double cheeseburger with extra pickles, uh, no tomatoes, please. Ooh, with a side of cheese fries, a strawberry shake, and I’ll get that with a Coke, too. Thanks, Benny.” Steve eyed his friend. God, that man could eat. The bustling fan that chilled Benny’s sweaty neck had proffered a wonderful alternative to the sweltering humidity that tinted the large windows with fog. Aside from the burly trucker consuming the two cups of coffee to keep him awake for the night, Steve had all respective authority to slyly grill his buddy on whatever friends-with-benefits-slash-potential-boyfriend-girlfriend dynamic he shared with you. 

Fuck it. “Uh, might as well do the same, Ben, what he said.” The laminated menu went unskimmed, closed off, and collected for the owner to take. 

Assuring the boys their meals would follow out quickly, they met Benny with gracious thank you’s for the service, and Steve Harrington rashly followed the movements of the older gentleman, until his being was out of ear shot, promptly snapping his head back to his friend. “Why didn’t you wanna go to the bar tonight?!” If a sign as to why Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington were soulmates, for whatever reason, needed to be clearer than it already was, the incaution- not so subtle “subtle” approach was reason enough. 

“Uh,” Eddie hummed, forcing Steve’s eyes to narrow in return, “I dunno, just didn’t wanna go for drinks tonight.” He shrugged, flicking at a sugar packet he had no intentions of using. 

Steve raised a brow. “Really?”

The incredulous tone was quite too bitchy for Eddie’s liking, who merely scoffed. “Can’t a guy care about his liver?”

“Ed, there’s a pack of cigarettes hangin’ in your pocket.” Steve deadpanned. “Think organ functionality is the least of your worries.” Unwelcoming to the implied suspicion of accusation behind Steve’s comment, Eddie simply chose to stay silent, finding more interest playing with the provided condiments as trinkets for his entertainment. Steve rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I saw Myra at the laundromat not too long ago.” He scratched his clean shaven chin, playing into his nonchalant bit, that only left Eddie to raise his eyebrows in confusion as to where this was going. “She looked nice; got her hair done, these pretty, little braids, y’know, with the gold cuffs and whatnot.” 

Eddie’s head lolled, enjoying the simple task of his finger tracing the obscured lines of the faux granite table top, when the ketchup label had been read to its entirety. “So?”

“So,” Steve emphasized, “you coulda called her up, y’know, tell her to meet you tonight. How long has it been since you’ve seen her- or any girl for that matter?” He slyly asked. 

“Not interested.” Blunt and suffice, surely enough to ward off anymore of Steve’s prodding questions. 

But Steve merely scoffed. “What, in girls anymore?” 

And in true Eddie Munson fashion, a shit-eating grin consumed his face, devious smile lines and all, as he leaned on perched forearms to invade Steve’s space. “Aw, why? You interested, big boy?”

Yeah, this conversation would be going nowhere. 

As the sparing minutes filled to meaningless conversations, their full course dinners made the quick arrival, and Steve pondered at the various ways a confession could be pummeled out of Eddie Munson’s mouth, which was currently being stuffed to the brim with mushing bites of each food group—minus the vegetables, this was Benny’s Diner after all. There was the ex-fling route, but clearly Eddie wasn’t looking to explore that again; good news for you, at least. That is if anything Henderson claimed was actually true. Little shit-

But wait a minute, that was it! What would Dustin Henderson do?!

He could still hear his grating voice. "Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it." As if. Steve Harrington could get you- hell, Steve Harrington could get anyone. Graduating out of the social hierarchy of high school totally hasn’t affected his game… totally. But digressing, if Dustin Henderson could scheme up a plan with no substance, Steve Harrington could, too. If anything, this would make so much more sense, given that Robin doesn’t even like boys. Dustin Henderson didn’t know anything, but Steve, yeah Steve Harrington was way more cunning than some snappy child with no regard for people’s business. Yeah, Steve Harrington could totally do this…

Eddie’s chewing slowed, brows cinched, as he wondered why the hell Steve Harrington had been silently smiling to himself for the past minute. And people saw him as a freak? Fucking weirdo. 

“Hey, uh,” Steve cleared his throat, presumably back to being normal, allowing Eddie to continue to shove his face with a strawberry milkshake covered cheese fry, unperturbed by Steve’s judgemental grimace, “I’m thinkin’ of askin’ out Y/N.”

Suddenly caught in his throat, Eddie began coughing up the fry he just downed, as Steve smiled with such amusement at the torment he just caused his friend. Maybe Henderson was right. “W-What? You wanna what?”

“Yeah, been thinkin’ about it, and y’know, I’m really feeling her.” Steve cocked a smirk that had Eddie’s face scrunching with agitation. “Very smart, funny, really fucking pretty, so…”

“I d-don’t, um- you really think that’s a g-good idea?” Eddie adjusted in his seat, composing the bubbling feeling that stirred terribly with the monstrosity he had just eaten.

Taking a large bite from his burger, Steve grinned happily. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Hunger and entertainment wonderfully satiated on this peaceful, late Monday night. 

Eddie shrugged, sulkingly throwing a stray pickle in his mouth. “I dunno, you’re just friends n’ all.” He mumbled. 

“Oh!” Steve’s eyes gleamed with laughter behind them. “You don’t think friends should date-”

“No, no, no, no!” God, the last thing Eddie was about to do was inadvertently claim your relationship was some end all be all cataclysm, but did it really have to come at the expense of encouraging his friend to date his secret girlfriend?! “I-I mean, like, some friends c-can date, like, um, good friends-”

“So, me and Y/N?” Steve quietly chuckled to himself, as he watched Eddie fret with frustration. 

“No- I mean, I dunno!” He exasperated, as Steve relished in his greasy food with a smile on his face. Eddie’s heart began sinking into his stomach. He understood how demeaning it would be to conclude you as the type to jump into Steve’s arms once he’d make the “inevitable” move. God, for once in his life someone with care to proffer promised him fundamental security, and there was no denying it, he felt. Felt it in your caressing hands, your saccharine words, your devoted kisses, your gentle touches- you touched with such love… at least, that's what it felt like. Does Eddie Munson even know love? He swallowed thickly. “D-Do you even think she would go for you-”

“I have personality!” Steve proclaimed, finger pointed and all, forcing Eddie to shove back in surrenderance, hands in the air, and a confused look to pair. 

“Okay, I’m not sayin’ you don’t, geez.” Eddie clarified, as Steve huffed, raking a harsh hand through his Farrah Fawcett hairsprayed perfection. “J-Just maybe don’t. Like, um, i-if it doesn’t work out, it could get really bad between you two, a-and it would be fucking horrible not to have her in your life at all, you can’t lose her, man.” 

Voice so small and eyes so distant, there was a deep inkling that perhaps Eddie was speaking his fears aloud. Because even in the greatness that was having the privilege of calling you his girlfriend, there was a world full of Steve Harringtons that could provide you with more than what any Eddie Munson ever could. Late at night, when the world could finally offer you both the peace to just be, entangled in arms and legs, Eddie would just stare at you and… know. Know that there is a feeling that scares the living shit out of him that he can’t feel for anyone else. A different type of feeling from the camaraderie of his club, who triumph against the evil of the universe. A different type of feeling from the shoulders he’s cried on of his uncle, because Eddie truly cannot thank him enough. You, you were a different type of feeling. One that left him just wanting to look at you, smell you, touch you, think of you all day. 

This wasn’t just infatuation, god, it felt like pure fucking lo- shit, what would he know. Eddie Munson didn’t know love. 

A sudden wave of regret washed over Steve, as he realized the saddened roundness of his buddy’s eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not gonna happen.” His calm voiced reassured. “I mean, it’s Y/N, why would she ever allow that to happen? Y’know, so what, things don’t work out between… me and her,” he explicated, “doesn’t mean your- I mean, our friendship has to change.” Steve watched, as Eddie nodded along, shoulders slumping in relaxation. “We talk it out, we understand each other, and we move on as friends. Together. We’ll still love each other like that. And, hey, at least we’ll both get a hot hookup out of it.” Okay, maybe he was still being a little shit, but he was only channeling his inner Henderson. Plus, the snapping glare from Eddie was quite priceless. 

“Are you really gonna make a move on Y/N?” His jaw ticked with clenched teeth. 

“I dunno.” Steve smiled, before snapping his fingers with a brilliant revelation, “Y’know what, I saw Robin flirting with you earlier today, how ‘bout we go on a double date?” Yeah, now he was definitely just teasing. “Hell, make it a triple one once Byers and Wheeler head back into town.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Robin was not flirting with me, she was just being… weird.” He pondered it for a second. What the hell was that that happened this afternoon? There’s no way she actually- no, impossible. Could she? No, that didn’t feel right. Well, maybe-

“Hey, do you actually think I have personality?” Oh, Stevie. 

-

On Tuesday evening, the Family Video store saw the little customers it was regularly accustomed to; Mr. Fredrickson, only to be accounted for, slowly roamed the documentary section, particularly interested in the historical segment for his afternoon leisure.

The nub of his cane poked an indent into the carpeted floors, as his supported weight allowed for close inspection of the bolded titles that plastered in an array of colors. Luckily, the lens of his glasses were thick enough to provide him the ability of sight to read what was on display for night, leaving you to mindlessly thumb through this month's issue of Cosmopolitan. “Hm.” Mr. Fredrickson gruffed. “What d’ya make of the Franco-Prussian War, darlin’?”

The Proven Personal Approach to Permanent Weight Loss. An Incredible Shrinking Woman Tells How She did it! Christ. You found more interest flipping back to the written Cosmo’s quiz determining what kind of husband your current rendezvous would make. 

“Uh…” Your back was beginning to ache from finding all support on your perched elbow digging into the counter, letting your cheek fall to your palm. “You did the Napoleonic Wars last time, no? Why don’t you give the French a break?” You skimmed the printed words of the glossy pages.

His wrinkled pointer finger shakingly racked through the tapes, as he took your word of advice. Your eyes were hanging onto the last bit of energy they were enduring to stay awake, but the weight of eyelids inevitably began to win, and it surely didn’t help that the liveliness of your thriving life was partaking in conversations with an elderly man who found amusement in learning about wars. 

But before a potential write up—Keith never found the actual courage to do so, loved to threaten it, though—for sleeping on the job could be scolded, the welcoming bell of the front door rang loudly enough to alert some life back into your body. 

“Welcome to Family Vide-euuawghh.” A guttural yawn ripped out of you, slurring your standardized greeting into an embarrassing mush of sounds. 

With watery eyes scrunched from tiredness, a rushed apology to your incoming customer had proved to fall unnecessary, as a familiar chuckle addressed you back. “Aw, such rigorous labor, working my baby to death, huh?” Eddie Munson, himself, teased, as he leaned to hover over the counter and close to your sluggish face. 

“Don’t tease me.” Your mouth jutted in offense, as you rubbed your eyes to the clear sight of being welcomed by Eddie’s bourbon eyes and a smug curl to his lips. 

His rough-tipped thumb caressed the hairs of your brow to ease. “How can I not when it gets you to make that cute pout at me, hm?”

You piqued with giddiness. “Because I’m your girlfriend.” A label you quickly learned to adore. “And you shouldn’t be mean to your girlfriend.”

Eddie smiled a breathy chuckle, as he peered at your lips. “Yeah, you are my girlfriend, huh?” He proudly verbalized with a husk to his tone. His mouth was itching to say more, pour out all he felt for the girl standing before him, but a counter the size of the world divided the union between two beating hearts of devotion. And manifesting his words of love paved the way for the potential loss of you. But not doing so also did the same. Because he’s learned good things don’t last for Eddie Munson. And what a unless world it would be to lose the profoundness of you. 

God, he wanted to punch Steve Harrington for last night.

Eddie took a deep breath. His bangs landed against your forehead, and scrunched under your nod of confirmation. You are his girlfriend. “Where’re the other two stooges?” He whispered, his breath fanning across your face. 

“In the back doing inventory.” You gladly answered the words Eddie wanted to hear. He bashfully leaned in, though before his mouth could meet yours, you pulled back with furrowed brows. “Wait, ‘other two stooges,’ am I the third?” 

Eddie barked out a boyish laugh, as he watched your faux face of aversion and shock. His large hands made your face feel small as he cupped your cheeks and brought you forth. “God, you’re so pretty.” 

His lips crashing upon yours had wiped your expression of any annoyance you tried to playfully brat out. His mouth moved against yours so languidly, it had you falling limp to his kiss, as he expressed all that he felt with the touch of his lips. Eddie pulled away slowly, leaving you to quietly hum in retaliation and chasing his lips. 

“Sorry.” He chuckled, providing you with one more loving peck. “But, hey, y’know, speaking of the other stooges, uh, Robin and Steve,” he cleared his throat, “you notice anything weird about ‘em, like lately?”

The cafeteria. “Um, yeah, actually.” You contemplated on the thought. “Why, did they say something?”

Nausea hit him like a truck, wondering if "The Hair’s" attempts to get at you were already happening quicker than expected. “S-Steve, he, uh, he said something to you?” Eddie felt his throat dry up.

“Steve? No, Steve’s been Steve, but I was mostly talking about Robin.” Jesus Christ, did you bring peace to his world. 

“Oh, yeah,” He puffed a breath of relief, “um, weirdest thing happened after school yesterday, but I think Robin was hitting on me.” Confusion had been written all over your face, as you pulled back from the counter. “She was, like, totally into me.”

“What?” You chuckled. “No, not possible.”

“Okay, ow.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes, as you laughed, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm in apology. 

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean it like that” you giggled, “but I’m sure you probably just misread things, you know? Robin finds you charming in a platonic way, like with Steve.”

Eddie straightened up. “No, I’m telling you, sweetheart, she was all over me.” He persisted. “I mean, for crying out loud, she was touching my bicep.”

A smug smile took over your face, as you arched your brow at him. “This bicep?” You teasingly squeezed his soft arm.

Eddie scoffed. “Well, it’s not flexed right now.” 

The back storage unit of Family Video had been littered with an influx of tapes, both coated in dust to be long forgotten and pristine with the newest release of what Hollywood had to offer. This year’s box office hit Top Gun starring Nancy Wheeler’s poster boy, Tom Cruise, or the fourteen-year-old The Ruling Class with the musical humor following a priest’s death due to his autoerotic asphyxiation kink? Robin Buckley laughed. Always the latter. 

“God, can’t believe Keith expects us to organize this junk.” Steve huffed, swiping his palms against each other, only to scowl at the specks of dust that floated into the air under the beaming sunlight. “I should be seeing Bridget right now, or Heidi, or taking out Linda, maybe Jeanie, haven’t talked to her in a minute.” Robin rolled her eyes at the endless sex-capades that was Steve Harrington’s love life. Christ, she couldn’t even get a clear sign that Vickie from chemistry wasn’t standing so straight. “Or-or maybe Y/N.” He chuckled to himself. 

“What?” Robin prodded. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, last night I was completely bugging out Munson, and told him I was planning on askin’ out Y/N.” Steve laughed, briefly coughing as dust particles blew off the VHS tapes. 

Robin was only left deadpanning in disappointment. “You did what now?” She scoffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side, I thought we were supposed to let it go?”

“You’re the one flirting with your friend’s boyfriend.” He argued. 

“Because that little twerp forced me to!” The Ruling Class came hurdling to his chest, as she chucked it. 

Shoving old movies aside, Steve grappled onto the box of new releases to shove into Robin’s arms, as he handled the second load. “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no sides, as much as I hate to admit it, Henderson was right about those two screwing.” Steve enthused. “You should’ve seen the look on Eddie’s face when I told him I was gonna make a move on Y/N.”

Robin huffed. “Okay, so let’s just leave it at that and let them screw in peace- or, even better yet, let’s just tell them we know, so they can have the freedom to do what they want.” 

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Steve whined. 

Robin laughed at his childish mewl. “And, unless Munson gets rid of the thing in his pants and learns to grow a cup or two, I am not flirting with him again.” She playfully gagged, while reminiscing on yesterday’s events. 

“Please,” Steve derided, “you can’t even look Vickie in the eye, I highly doubt if Munson suddenly grew some tits you’d become some sort of Casanova.” He snorted, opening the door. “Mr. Bicep?” 

Before Robin’s sneaker could step foot back into the main lobby of Family Video, Steve’s grasp onto the collar of her shirt flung her back into the storage room, with a slam to the door. “Are you inane?!” She chastised, while attempting to find her balance with a ten pound box of VHS tapes. 

“Munson’s out there!” He whisper-yelled into her face. 

“Okay, so?” 

“So, we gotta get in there, and stir the pot a little.” His brows danced impishly against his forehead.

Robin’s face dropped vacantly. “What about anything that I literally just said didn’t click for you?” A smack against his head from her hand had him reeling back in defense. 

“Ow, okay, I get it, Munson doesn’t have boobs.” Steve huffed, rubbing out the dulling pain. “But, look, Dustin wasn’t that far off, a little encouragement doesn’t harm anyone. He thinks that you like him and that I like her, you’re telling me this isn’t even a little funny to you?” My god, did Steve Harrington have a charming way of flaunting that stupid smirk that had Robin hold back a chuckle. Because in retrospect, Eddie Munson believing his lesbian friend had a crush on him, while her partner in crime, her himbo, had a supposed liking to his secret girlfriend was quite funny. Funny like a priest dying from his autoerotic asphyxiation kink. 

She sighed, giving him a pointed glare. “One time, Harrington. This is the one and only time I will ever flirt with a man again.” 

Steve threw his hands up in defense, as a smile lingered on his face. “Highly doubt there will ever be a time in which I ask you to do that again.” He laughed, while slinging the door open. “Plus, it’s Munson. I’m sure his cynicism won’t even count it as flirting.” 

“Well, Y/N's flirting surely worked.” She joked, as they stepped out. 

“You think it’s because he has personality or nice hair?” Steve interrogated. “Because I sure as hell have way better hair than him.” 

Despite your alluring face, Eddie caught a glimpse of Steve and Robin making their way over while looking past your shoulder, forcing him to make the regretful decision to back away from you. “Ed.” Your tiny pout of confusion made it all that harder, until Steve’s voice boomed out. 

“Hey, y’know, as a customer, you’re supposed to actually rent something!” Him and Robin joined you both at the counters, where they sat the boxes of movies. “Or, you could, y’know, stock shelves with us.” 

Eddie flipped him the bird, as he smiled. “Actually, I was just stoppin’ by to ask if Halloween is still rented out.” He turned to look down at you with a smirk. “Is it?”

“I can go check that for you.” Your sweet customer service voice had him biting back a grin, as you stepped away to the computer. 

As Steve and Robin began displacing films from the boxes, his elbow nudged her side to grab her attention away from organizing. “Just keep it casual.” He whispered, as she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sure if you unfocus your eyes, the five o’clock shadow will go away, and he’ll totally look just like Vickie.” And he huffed right back when Robin rightfully scoffed at him. “What? They have the same eyes… just, y’know, different color… and shape.” 

Robin waved him off before anything further could come out of his mouth. With The Fly nestled in her grasp, Steve threw her a nod of encouragement, before scurrying to the shelves with a small laugh escaping his lips. 

“Sorry, Eds.” You clicked off the computer. “Landon K. beat you to it; no Halloween.” 

“Should totally check out The Fly.” Robin slyly imposed, as she handed him the film. “Can never go wrong with some Cronenberg, right?” Eddie inspected the film with a shrug. “Sure, better than taking movie suggestions from Harrington.” 

There came the inordinate laugh from Robin that had Eddie throwing you a knowing glance, and Robin, herself, internally dying inside. “Ha! Always so funny!” She clumsily fist-bumped his arm. “Uh- anyway! Better get back to work.” A large smile flashed both your ways.. “I, uh, I’ll see you later… handsome.” And following in the footsteps of her grandmother when she wasn’t screaming something batshit crazy, Robin Buckley pinched Eddie Munson’s cheek before running away to Steve Harrington. 

“You pinched his cheek?!” Steve contemptuously chortled in her frazzled face that burned with embarrassment. 

Robin’s hands smack her face, dragging the skin down, as she groaned. “Well, I don’t know how to do the whole flirting thing!” Her fist came smacking down at his chest.

Steve bent at the waist with a cramping stomach of laughter “Okay, yeah, but he’s not a baby!”

Your eyes followed Robin’s running figure until she disappeared into the maze of shelves, and you incredulously turned to your stunned boyfriend. With his mouth wide, and eyes bulging, Eddie fretfully spoke. “Okay, did you see that?! With the compliment, and the pinching?!” 

You bewilderedly settled at the realization. “Actually, I did.” You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend was flirting with you boyfriend- well, technically, she had no clue he was your boyfriend, but still- Eddie? Not to sell your boyfriend short, god, he was perfect in every way, but Robin? Robin and Eddie?!

“Okay, so now do you believe that she’s attracted to me?” He persisted. 

You thought for a second, and Eddie Munson watched your face drop with concern, as your hand clutched your chest. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! She knows about us!” You cautiously warbled, as you began pacing about behind the counter. 

Eddie’s face scrunched with distress. “Are you serious?” 

“Robin knows, and she’s just trying to freak us out!” You belabored, anxiously looking back to where Steve and Robin could no longer be seen. Your hands dramatically dropped at the revelation. “That’s the only explanation for it!”

Eddie vacillated at the unwarranted insult. “Okay, but what about my pinchable face and bulging biceps?” He confidently pointed to his arm, before the lacking muscle of scrawiness suddenly hit him like a truck. “She knows!” 

Your hand comically slapped the counter, as you chuckled in disbelief at her attempt to fool you. “Oh, man, she probably thinks she’s so slick for messing with us.” Eddie joined in, frenziedly laughing, completely feeling stupefied, though giving props to the mastermind, nonetheless. Impressed he was. “But, hey, you know what? She doesn’t know we know she knows, so…” 

“Ah, yes!” Eddie piqued with interest. “The messers become the messees!” 

-

“You sure you kids are alright?” Shrugging on his utility jacket for the night, the aging lines of Wayne Munson’s forehead scrunched with suspicion for the nightly activity his nephew and his supposed “friend” were going to be up to. 

Sure, the sight of you over at his trailer wasn’t something peculiar, in fact, for the past months, you, in particular, were the only one of Eddie’s buddies who made a regular appearance to their humble abode. Why? Well that was a question that still went unanswered whenever Wayne tried to prod into the life of his nephew. But the way Eddie would blush, while simultaneously attempting to quickly change the subject, made Wayne’s throat tickle with a chuckle. 

Who the hell were you two fooling?

But now, with much concern from Wayne, it seemed as though Eddie’s oddities had begun rubbing off on you, as you both strangely huddled around the yellow home phone, clearly waiting for the second Wayne would close the door behind, as he left for the graveyard shift. 

Attempting to “casually” lean against the paneling of the wall, Eddie’s head was quick to snap up and down in return. “Yeah, yeah.” He rushed. “Better get goin’, don’t wanna be late for the bosses.” He threw an overcompensating smile, as you sat at the kitchen table, merely following suit to that of your “friend.” Wayne Munson couldn’t care less about the bosses. 

“Alright then.” The old man huffed, picking up the keys of his pick-up truck, letting the humid spring breeze waft through the front door. “Get ‘er some dinner if you’re makin’ ‘er stay late.”

“As always.” Eddie threw you a sly wink, as Wayne left with a quick exchange of goodbye thrown from both parties, until the front door finally closed. 

At the click, you sprung from your chair, snatching the phone out of the receiver to hand to Eddie, to which he happily grabbed with a maniacal snicker. “You sure she’s over at Steve’s?” 

Your fingers were fervent with the harsh press to the buttons, dialing the numbers to phone the Harrington residence. “Uh huh, something about watching Fast Times with Robin.” The second your finger pressed down on the last digit, you were quick to maneuver the phone against Eddie’s ear. “Okay, just stick to the script.”

Eddie scoffed, flipping his hair back. “Sweetheart, please, I was able to get you, I sure as hell can get Robin.” Your hand met his chest with a chastising slap. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He laughed. 

Up the road, on the secluded sector of Cornwallis Street, Robin Buckley was anxiously plowing through a bowl of popcorn, as the fifty-second minute was fastly approaching, and suddenly Phoebe Cates was climbing out of the pool with the detrimental ambience of teenage horniness. 

“Here it comes, here it comes!” Steve snickered, as he absentmindedly chewed on a licorice piece. 

Robin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “God, Steve, you don’t have to point out the obvious!” But after forcing her friend to endure two hours and thirty-four minutes of the satirical musical critique of institutional religion that was The Ruling Class, Steve decided to return the torture by subjection of… boobies. 

“What I’m point out is the fact that Vickie lived through this exact moment, meaning she was staring at boobies, meaning-”

“Don’t say it!”

“Vickie likes boobies!” Steve implored, the largest grin on his face, as he watched Robin slap her hands onto her face at a brutal attempt to shield herself from the mortifying experience that was having Steve Harrington as a friend. 

But, in slow motion, as Phoebe Cates’ fingers clutched onto the center hook of her bikini bra, the phone shrilled, allowing Robin to exhale a “thank god,” as Steve’s attention begrudgingly turned to the incoming call. 

Swiftly jumping to the end table, Steve picked up the brick phone. “Yeah, hello?” He spoke, munching on another rope of his candy, surely missing the quick glances Robin was making back at the TV. Steve’s brows piqued at the static voice. “Oh! Yeah, she’s right here!” Turning to Robin, his hand cupped over the speaker, as he giddily shoved the phone to her. “It’s Eddie, he’s probably gonna cave in.” He whispered. 

Rolling her eyes, Robin cleared her throat from any stray popcorn kernel, ready to end this once and for all. “Hello?” 

Back at Forest Hills, your toes pressed against the linoleum tiling of the kitchen floor to push yourself up to his height, smushing your ear against the other side of the phone, as mischievous smiles consumed both your faces. “Hello, Robin… I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day.” Eddie channeled his most suave voice, forcing you to bite back a laugh, suppressing your mouth into his shoulder. 

“Huh?!” Devious as ever, both you and Eddie almost broke at her considerable shock. 

Steve raised a questioning brow, attempting to scoot closer, only for Robin to preserve her personal bubble and shove him back. Much to his nosey dismay. “Well, y’know that thing you said before, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” Eddie teased, as you nodded your head along to show your proudness for your boyfriend flirting with your friend. 

Yeah, things in Hawkins, Indiana surely were weird. 

“R-Really?” Robin choked, as the popcorn in her stomach suddenly turned at the uneasiness of male attention. Gross. 

Ever the villain, Eddie smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, listen my uncle isn’t gonna be here tonight, so why don’t you come over, and I’ll let you, uh, feel my bicep… or maybe more.” You quietly chuckled. God, what a cute loser.

Robin grimaced, stuttering with concern. “Uh, you know, I-I’ll have to get b-back to you on that, uh, okay, bye!” She was quick to hang up the phone, while you and Eddie intimately celebrated in the lonesome of his kitchen with silly squeals and tiny jumps. “Oh, my god! He wants me to come over to feel his bicep and more!” 

Steve Harrington was left speechless at Robin’s panicked announcement, as his mouth hung wide. “Are you kidding?!”

“No!” She gagged. “I know what I heard!” 

Steve felt incredulously at the scumminess of his friend. “I cannot believe he would do that to… wait a second.” His brows furrowed. Eddie Munson nearly launched at the chance to shut down any ideas of Steve dating you, why on Earth would he suddenly- oh, shit. “They know!”

“What?!” 

“They know that we know!” Steve clarified, as the gears in Robin’s head turned, until her face was enlightened with the fact of the matter which was that her best friend was trying to deceive her right back!

She gasped. “I can’t believe those two!” Instantaneously, any reservations Robin initially had for Steve and Dustin’s plan had left, as all she felt was dramatic offense at the idea of trying to be demeaned. 

“They thought that they could mess with us?!” Steve proclaimed.

“They’re trying to mess with us?!” In disbelief, both friends chuckled with bewilderment at the unexpected slyness coming from you two. That was, until Robin Buckley schemed with realization. “They don’t know we know they know we know!” 

Steve’s face scrunched with confusion, though nonetheless a team player, he nodded along, giggling at Robin’s wicked implication. Suddenly, a call to the Henderson household was in need. 

Dustin Henderson’s calves burned under the rigorous strain of bike riding from the northern end of Cornwallis street to reach Steve’s house. Haphazardly disposing his bicycle in the driveway, Dustin had barged in with no warning, coming face-to-face with Robin Buckley, resident polyglot band geek, wearing Mrs. Harrington’s blue cocktail dress, as Steve Harrington, retired king of Hawkins High, played makeup artist with his mother’s newly bought red lipstick in hand. 

It was undeniable at this point, Hawkins, Indiana was most definitely weird. 

“Would you just quit moving, so I can put this on you?!” The vein on Steve’s forehead became pronounced under the immense pressure he felt. Being a makeup artist surely wasn’t easy, especially when your client was nagging about the intense blush placement of his work. 

“Enough with the makeup, it’s Eddie for Christ sake!” Robin complained, enduring the endeavor of trying to shove Mrs. Harrington’s shoes onto her feet. God, why was the woman’s shoe size so small?!

“Really Steve?!” Robin and Steve jumped at the intruding voice of Dustin, as the kid stood with his hands on his hips, imitating the signature pose of the man before him. “That’s totally not her color, you’re making her look like a clown!”

Both parties scoffed, rightfully offended. 

Robin pushed Steve away, rubbing her cheeks harshly to blend out the monstrosity that was Steve’s makeup skills. “Okay, this is plenty!” She stressed. “We’re gonna call him, we’re gonna get that date, and we’re gonna win!” 

The boys cheered, Dustin more so heavily appreciative of this new Buckley mentality, as they circled around her when she reached for the phone. “Mm! You better grab a spring roll before I eat ‘em all.” Eddie’s crowded mouth of mashed vegetables spoke. Chinese had been delivered in the wake of your celebration, congratulating both of you for your—mostly Eddie—duplicitously clever work. 

In the midst of diving into your tangled lo mein, the phone shrilled, which had Eddie springing from the couch. “Probably calling back to surrender!” You cheered, as Eddie snickered, sliding his socked feet into the kitchen. “Good job on creeping her out, babe!” 

Eddie bowed, accepting whatever weird kind of praise that was, before answering the phone with a muffled mouth of spring rolls. “Hello?”

“Be sexy.” Steve encouraged, eliciting a scoff from Robin, as she turned her focus onto the phone call. 

“Hi!” Both terribly displeased with her lack of commitment, Robin was met with strict glares from Dustin and Steve to amp it up… so, she did. Clearing her throat, she dropped an octave to obtain the sultriness of what she could only assume Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond to sound like. “Uh, I mean, hey, you.” Robin Buckley wanted to puke. “So, Eddie, I’d love to come over tonight.”

A piece of pork was hacked from Eddie’s throat, as he choked on his food. “R-Really?!”

Watching his face drop, you stood with concern wondering what was going on on the other line. “Oh, absolutely. Should we say around nine?” Eddie checked his clock. In fifteen fucking minutes?! 

But Eddie Munson wasn’t going to back down. Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master of the great Hellfire, who’s pushed his men to prevail against the nefarious dark lords of villages and towns alike, was not going to be defeated by Trumpet Girl. The man glared his eyes. “Yes.” He tested. 

Robin Buckley accepted his challenge. “Good.” She smiled, as she watched Steve motion for her to crank it up a notch. “Uh, I’m really looking forward to you and I h-having sexual intercourse.” The phone hung up and flung from her hands the second the words left her mouth. 

Eddie Munson’s face dropped. Dustin Henderson gagged. Steve Harrington laughed. And Robin Buckley wanted to crawl into a hole to forever perish in the depths of torturous hell. 

Because that’s what it felt like to flirt with a man. 

-

“Okay, showtime!” Dustin applauded from the backseat of Steve’s car, where Robin scrambled to effortlessly scrunch her hair around. 

“Here’s the perfume.” Steve pushed down the nozzle of the stolen fragrance of his mother’s collection—thanking god for the moment that she wasn’t here—where his finger spritzed numerous doses against Robin, causing the car to invade with the nauseating scent of strong, overpowering flowers. 

Robin coughed. “Alright, quit it! The kid has allergies.”

“I have allergies!” Dustin sneezed. 

Steve huffed in annoyance, watching as Robin unbuckled from her seat. The beaming headlights that had once reflected off the vinyl-covered walls of the trailer had been switched off for stake-out purposes, as Steve’s car parked in the open area of the Munson home in the quiet night. 

“Hand over the wine, Henderson.” Buckled next to the seat of Dustin’s—for protective measures—a bottle of his parent's stolen chardonnay rested like a passenger on board; Steve’s, ever the romantic, suggestion for the authenticity of a real date. 

“Is this really necessary?” Robin truly had no room to talk, she most definitely hadn’t experienced the polarizing events of the dating scene, let alone ones of heterosexual realms (thankfully).  

Scoffing, Steve was galled by the dig at his—for once—knowledgeable expertise of life phenomena. “Are you kidding, chicks go for this shit.” Surely, Bridget, Heidi, Linda, and Jeanie can attest to his opinion. 

“Yeah, well, Munson’s definitely not a chick… unfortunately.” She mumbled. 

“Huh?” Dustin asked. 

Robin was quick to shut up in a panic. “Nothing!” 

“Look, just get in there, and do your thing, alright?” Whatever attempt at a pep talk this was from Steve Harrington devastatingly fell short, as the last thing Robin Buckley expected to do on her Tuesday night was go out on a date with a man, who so happened to be her best friend’s boyfriend. Thing?! What thing?! She couldn’t even stare her crush in the eye for Christ sake, Steven! Robin Buckley has no thing! And Eddie Munson unfortunately does- the repulsing (to her) kinda thing that Robin Buckley doesn’t even like! She huffed. “Just take it easy. The second Munson lets you in, we’ll sneak up to the door, and hear through there.” 

On the edge of his bed, Eddie Munson let your hands wander about, until his appearance was up to your liking; voluminous hair, controlled friz, straightened shirt, and a bottle of minty mouth spray that he coughed at, but necessary for the prevention of spring roll breath. “Okay, you’re gonna be great!” You motivated him with the words of encouragement, as you brushed away his stray hairs. “You just make her think you want to have sex with her, and it’ll totally freak her out.”

Eddie straightened up, shaking his body from any jitters, and stretching as if a marathon was in place. “Okay, so how far am I exactly supposed to go with her?” His face etched with concern. 

You waved him off. “Relax, alright, she’s gonna give in way before you do!” If there was anything you learned about Robin Buckley in your months of friendship, it was the blatantly obvious fact that she would shrivel up in awkwardness before anything further took place. 

Eddie Munson freaked at your sudden certainty. “How do you even know?!”

“Because you’re on my team!” You stressed. “And my team always wins!” 

His face scrunched with fret. “At this?!”

Tentative knocking against the front door pulled you both away from the conversation. It was game time. “Eddie,” his head whipped back to you, “you’re the Dungeon Master, okay? This, this is nothing in comparison to dark lord wizard thingies.” God, he knew for certain you didn’t fully understand his interest in Dungeons and Dragon, but the time you took to support him was making his heart beat faster than any fake date with your best friend could ever make him feel. 

You make him feel such incredible things. 

“You’re the master here, you’re in control, you got this!” Jesus Christ, the corny shit your competitiveness was making you say was too fucking cute. “Just go get some!” You finished him with a quick kiss that had him yearning for more, but your body quickly scurried away to the bathroom. 

Eddie Munson sighed. Cracking his neck, he rolling his shoulder. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I’m in control.”

Steve clutched a heavy hand on his steering wheel, as both him and Dustin peered through the windows. “Okay, just wait for it… wait for it… wait- get down!” The boys dropped their heads the second Eddie’s front door opened with a dramatic swing. 

And there she was. Eddie cocked an eyebrow for whatever reason it was Robin Buckley chose to show up overly dressed like a middle-aged woman, and with an awkward smile to taint her image. But Eddie Munson was right there to follow suit with a strange grin to greet her. 

“Robin.”

“Eddie.”

“Come on in.”

“I was going to.” 

As the trailer door closed shut, Steve and Dustin silently crawled their way out of the car with their utmost quietest attempts of closing the doors shut behind them. With crouched stances like detectives on duty, the pair scampered their way to the top of Eddie’s cemented stairs, where their heads pressed against the front door to hear the muffled conversation from the other side. 

“I, uh, brought some wine.” Robin held up the bottle, as Eddie was slightly taken aback. What the hell kinda teenager brings wine to a date? Probably the kind who’s a lesbian, and going out with her best friend’s boyfriend out of competition. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Making their way to the kitchen, Eddie secured two cups, as Robin popped off the protruding cork top, and suddenly she felt entirely even more stupid than the fact that she was on a “date” with a man, when Eddie proffered matching Garfield and Odie mugs for glasses of chardonnay. 

The dreadful silence began to take over, and Eddie could only manage to fill it with thorny chuckles, as Robin filled the mugs. “So, uh,” she sighed, “here we are. Nervous?”

“Me? No. You?” He skeptically questioned.  

But Robin Buckley was there to provoke him. “No, I want this to happen.” 

“So do I.” Eddie cleared his throat, before their glasses clicked with a toast, and Robin and Eddie found themselves chugging down the mug-fulls of alcohol to hopefully forget the disturbing night they were about to endure. When cups fell empty, Eddie sighed and turned to the radio that rested atop of the washing machine. “Why don’t I, uh, play some music; set the mood a little.”

Call her inexperience, whatever, but Robin knew there was no way in hell the screeching voices of Slayer attested to “setting the mood” during date night. God, she felt bad for you- for straight women. “Maybe-maybe I’ll, uh, dance for you.” She dared right back. 

Where Robin could judge Eddie on his music taste, Eddie could return the favor in her lack of mobility, as her body began clumsily swaying about in his kitchen, off rhythm to the already undanceable sounds to thrashing metal. Her contorting ankles in kitten heels paired with her jutting hips allowed her to mortifyingly saunter her way over to an uncomfortable Eddie, who was wielding the willpower to not bark a laugh in her face. 

But Robin Buckley was not going to win this. Not when Eddie Munson’s pride stood in the way. “Mm, you look good.” He spoke so stiffly, as he defied back with a taunting grin. 

“Why, thank you.” She forced out a laugh. “Y-You know, when you say things l-like that, it makes me wanna, um, rip that… Weird Al t-shirt right off.” Jesus Christ, Dustin made him get matching ones. 

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “well, uh, why don’t we move this to the bedroom then?” His brows pointed, eyes glared. 

Robin immediately stopped her bizarre dancing. “Really?” Her panic settled in. 

“Oh!” Eddie quickly stepped back with an impeding smile. “Do you not want to?” He urged. 

“No, no.” Robin composed herself, waving him off with faux confidence. “I just, um, you know, first, I wanna t-take off all my clothes, and have you r-rub lotion all over me.” Is that what straight people do before sex?!

Eddie’s throat constricted with little air, and a tightening hand of embarrassment. “Well, that would be nice.” His voice raised a cracking octave. “I’ll, uh, go get the lotion.” Before Robin could respond, Eddie was already running away to the bathroom. Your gnawing teeth had bitten through your nail when Eddie came bustling through the door. “Okay, this is totally getting out of hand.”  He fretfully groused, as he crowded your area in the small room. “She wants me to put lotion on her!” Eddie dramatically snarled. 

You rebuffed his dread. “She’s bluffing!”

Eddie huffed. “Look, she’s not backing down. Jesus, shit, she went like this!” He suddenly gyrated his stiff hips harshly against you to mimic her dancing. 

A couple feet away at the front door of Eddie’s trailer, Robin was in consternation, frantically rambling to Steve and Dustin. “He is not backing down! He went to get lotion!”

“You aren’t done yet?” Dustin heaved. “You’re supposed to be on my team, he should be cracking right now!” 

Her angry finger flicked against his forehead, despite his insistent cries of pain. “This is all your fault to begin with!”

“Okay, will everybody just calm down for a second?” Steve hushed, where his hands found the relaxing perch against his hips, as if his motherly duties were calling. “Think of it this way, the sooner you get Eddie to break, the sooner this can all be over with.”

“Ooh, I like that.” Robin nodded along. 

“Just amp the flirting, alright?” Steve coached. “Look, it took him weeks to actually approach a girl at the bar, he used to get totally flustered whenever he’d play wingman for me. How the hell managed to get Y/N? I don’t know, but all I do know is that just like you, Eddie Munson is a total dud when it comes to flirting.”

Her mouth fell agape at the insult that stung too much from the utter reality of the statement. It didn’t make her feel any better when Dustin shoved that patronizing look in her face. “Yeah, Robin, sweetie, you are not doing a good job right now.”

“How would you know? You’re fourteen!” She bellowed. 

“And yet, which one of us is in a loving, committed relationship?” The kid snided.

Steve shushed Dustin away before a catfight could break out on the doorstep of Eddie’s home. “Look, you got this. Just make Munson uncomfortable! You’re a girl, you got this!”

“He’s a boy, he makes me uncomfortable!” She spat. 

Ransacking his bathroom cabinets for a bottle of lotion, you hastily shoved the bottle into his grasp, and clutched onto his shoulders. “You go back in there, and you seduce her till she cracks!” Never in a million years did you think you’d encourage your boyfriend to do that. Though with this much commitment, he should really get you into Dungeons and Dragons.

“Okay, just give me a second.” He took a deep breath for composure, just as he got a good glimpse of his bathroom. “Did you clean up in here?!” Your eyes rolled, before grappling onto the doorknob, and pushing Eddie out of the bathroom. He slowly approached the kitchen, where his nervousness eased at the sight of Robin at the door. “Oh, you’re, uh… you’re going!” He smiled.

Steve Harrington's voice replayed in her head, and Robin cleared her throat to pull out the sultry crisp she was needing to flirt. “Um, not without you, lover.”

Eddie flashed her a tight-lipped smile, as he released a big sigh. “Well, uh, come here.” He beckoned. “I’m very happy we’re gonna have all the sex.” 

Robin ignored the disgust in her belly to test him. “Y-You should be.” She smirked. “I’m very bendy.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled with fright, as she stepped closer. “I’m going to k-kiss you now.”

And Eddie bothered her right back. “Not if I, um, kiss you first!” With a foot apart, Robin Buckley made her first move on a man, as her stiff hand latched uncomfortably to Eddie’s waist. Devastatingly following in line, Eddie’s fingertips barely grazed her skin, as they lightly rested onto her shoulder, neither party urging anyone to come closer. “Well, I-I guess there’s nothing left for us to do than to kiss.”

“Here it comes.” With rigid lips tucked inward, and tense bodies hesitantly pulling together, Eddie Munson genuinely began to realize how much of a idiotic idea all this was. A nauseating feeling struck him, as he understood what a lousy world it’d be to live in if he had to continue to disguise his feelings for you. I mean, going on a date with your best friend? This is the lengths he’s going to to hide something so perfect? And Robin. For the love of god, if picturing Joan Jett over Eddie’s face was needed to make this experience slightly less miserable, then, yeah, maybe this plan was stupid all along. 

“Okay, okay, okay! Fine, you win!” Eddie pulled away, as Robin’s face astounded. “I will not have sex with you!” He huffed with exhaustion. 

“And why not?” Robin smiled, as the victory was coming her way.

“Because I’m in love with Y/N!” 

“You’re-you’re what?” The front door jolted open, as Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson hurdled their way in, but Eddie took no notice of the peculiarity in that. Not when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. 

“Love her!” He proclaimed at the top of lungs. “That’s right! I love her!” Eddie pointed to you, as you made your way closer. “I love her! I’m in love with her!” And suddenly, the reality of you actually standing in front of him hit him, and Eddie realized the weight of what he just admitted to you… and his friends. Eddie took a deep breath, as he solemnly stared down at you, and in an instant, he felt his body calm at the sight of your smile. “I love you, Y/N.” 

His hands took solace against your warm cheeks, where you stared up at with adoration in your eyes. “I love you, Eddie.” Your arms circled around his neck, as his desperate hands clung to your shirt to pull you into an intoxicating kiss that had you both mewling with tenderness. This was it. Eddie Munson knew love.

That was until Robin spoke. “Oh, my god, you guys! We thought you were just doing it, we didn’t know you were in love!” She gushed. 

Steve shyly smiled from the back. “Dude!” He effused. 

“Aha!” And then there was Dustin Henderson. “I told you! I told all of you! And none of you wanted to believe me! I was right and you were wrong!” He pompously smiled, before turning to you and Eddie. “By the way, I was the first to know! I’ve been knowing for a week after you freaks forced me to lose my dice!” 

Eddie chuckled, as his hands stayed secured around you. “Actually, Dustin, Max was kinda the first to know. She found out four months ago, when she caught Y/N leaving my place at night.” He admitted. “Been blackmailed ever since; spent $20 on some damn heart-shaped sunglasses.” 

“Are you kidding me!” Dustin felt gobsmacked, betrayed and abandoned, like those damn Fritos. 

“Hey, but, uh, hats off to you, Robin.” Eddie smiled, offering a hand of congratulation. “Quite the competitor.” And she shook it proudly, another notch in whatever weird belt this was. 

“I still can’t believe you never told me.” Dustin gasped. “I mean, seriously, Max out of all people.” Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson’s voices eventually faded into the background, as you managed to slip away from your boyfriend’s grasp to hold onto the hand of your best friend, while you whisked her away to the quiet corner of the living room. 

“Hey, so I just wanted to apologize to you real quick.” You softly smiled at Robin. “I mean, going through all this just because I kept this from you,” you sighed, “I’m just really sorry you were forced to date my boyfriend.” 

Robin laughed, as she squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry you’re forced to date him everyday.” She joked. “No, but seriously, you don’t have to apologize at all.” Her throat began to sting with the heftiness of her feelings, but she felt the warmth of fingers against hers, and Robin Buckley took her deep breath. “I understand why you did it- why you felt the need to hide.” 

“You do?”

“Yeah.” She tearfully smiled. “I feel the same way, just a little different. I just, um, I know what it’s like to want to keep something to yourself, because having to come out as something you know the world isn’t going to love is scary. It’s really scary, Y/N.” Her hand tightened, as her voice cracked. 

But in true Buckley style, that beautiful smile never left her face, as she told you her biggest fear. But what a shame it was that the world made her biggest fear her truest self. Your arms wrapped around her in a suffocating hug, where she let out a shaky sigh against your shoulder. “Robin,” you whispered into her hair, “I love you.” You implored. “Eddie does. Steve does. I hope you know that this town isn't worth being scared of.” You felt her shudder against you, as your hand soothed down her back. “Not when you’re so goddamn perfect.” Robin laughed, as she pulled away, clearing her eyes from any unspilled tears that threatened to stain her cheeks. “I know it’s easier said than done, but genuinely, don't waste your perfect self on what the world wants.” She digested your words, flashing you a thankful grin, as she steady to jumping nerves. “I mean, take it from the man himself, your date tonight, who’s univocally himself.”

You both turned to the kitchen, where Steve and Eddie had Dustin pinned, with a spring roll in hand, trying to shove it down the defiant kid’s mouth. “Jesus, I really am sorry you have to date him.” 

You both laughed, as you watched the commotion take place. And you looked at Eddie Munson, how effortlessly beautiful he was, and how comfortable those around him came to be in his accepting presence. “He’s not too bad.” You smiled. “Now, c’mon, we have Chinese and chardonnay to celebrate!” 

Finally letting the child go, Steve snagged the spring roll with a monumental bite of pleasure, before closely crowding into Eddie’s bubble. “No, but seriously, dude, how the hell did you do it?” Steve Harrington pointed to you, as Eddie Munson smiled.

Roll for Persuasion

You were quite content living in blissful unawareness of Eddie Munson, but that all changed when your brother joined Hellfire Club. Now the loud-mouthed metal head was everywhere; and for some reason he's deadset on making you miserable.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader (can be read as bio or adoptive sister - visually inclusive)

Warnings: SMUT (reader is 18+, protected sex), underage drinking (in America), mean older sister/ siblings shenanigans, enemies to lovers

Word count: 7k

masterlist / read on ao3 / send me love 💌

You had never paid much attention to Eddie Munson before your senior year. You’d heard of him, of course; Hawkins was a small town and his reputation as the loud-mouthed metal head preceded him, but the two of you ran in different cliques and had never actually crossed paths.

Eddie never paid much attention to you either. He knew your name and face the same way he knew the names and faces of most of his classmates, but he thought you were just another stereotype. Another cheerleader destined for a life of middle-class suburban drudgery after peaking in high school.

But Eddie was wrong. Behind your strawberry lip gloss and perfectly styled hair you had goals beyond being a housewife. Your dad had always said you were ambitious; too smart for your own good. Your advanced placement classes and extracurricular activities had put you on track for a scholarship to some fancy out of state college and as soon as you graduated you were out of Hawkins.

The only thing you were going to miss about your small town was your younger brother. Dustin was annoying, he was also a major nerd who shared practically none of your interests, but you had a soft spot for the little twerp. It had been hard on him when your family moved to Hawkins five years ago and even harder when your father had up and left. You’d taken it upon yourself to look out for the kid. It had been a blessing he’d found friends in Mike, Lucas, and Will, but you were still thankful to be there for his first year of high school.

The first day Dustin started at Hawkins High he’d come home talking about Hellfire Club and their leader, ‘Eddie the Banished’. You hadn’t thought much about it, just glad that he and his friends had found a group to belong to amongst the high school cliques, even if it was one of the lamer clubs. That relief soon turned into annoyance when you learnt that Hellfire Club met at the same time as cheer practice, meaning your mom made you drive Dustin and his friends home.

The first time you properly interacted with Eddie Munson was about six weeks into the new school year. Hellfire had run late the last few weeks and you were not in the mood to be waiting around. The nights were getting colder and the cardigan that came with your cheer uniform was doing little to protect you from the chilly October air. After sitting in your car for half an hour you’d had enough.

Dustin had never told you where his club met but it didn’t take you long to find them; you only had to follow the sound of raucous hollering down the hallway to the drama room. The door was shut but you could see the light seeping through the crack above the floor and hear the unmistakable sound of muffled arguing. 

You swung the door open without warning, cutting someone off mid-sentence. “If you’re not in the car in five minutes I’m leaving and you can all walk home.” Your voice cut through the chatter like a knife, all heads whipping around to stare at you.

The young man at the head of the table squinted his eyes, rising from the throne he was sitting on. “This is a private meeting.”

“I’m not asking to join,” you retorted. “I’m Dustin’s sister.”

“Family day is next week.” He studied your face as if trying to place you and your name rolled off his tongue as a question. “I’ve seen you with Chrissy.”

It didn’t surprise you he knew Chrissy. You knew she’d scored special K and oxy off him a few times; you knew most of the cheer squad had bought something from him whether they admitted to it or not. Chrissy had told you, albeit in secret, that Eddie was actually a nice guy. His tone and expression right now made you question her judgement.

“You never said your sister was a cheerleader, Henderson,” he said it like an insult but he was smirking. His eyes trailed up your legs, your short skirt only just covering your thighs.

You shifted awkwardly but stood your ground. “Glad to see all that pot hasn’t affected your critical thinking skills,” you crossed your arms over your chest, tilting your head to the side. “Reckon you’ll finally graduate this year?”

“Why, already planning the reunion? Must suck when your entire personality is school spirit. What’s left to do once you’ve already peaked?”

You scowled, eyes narrowing. “Car, Dustin. Now.”

“You said five minutes,” your brother whined, eyes bouncing between you and Eddie.

“I changed my mind,” you turned on your heels and left, not caring if your brother or his friends were following.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You seemed to see Eddie more often after that first encounter. Either he was making his presence more apparent or your mind had become more aware of spotting him in the crowds. Either way, neither of you spoke to each other, but you did keep making the mistake of glancing at him; fatal errors that left him smirking after you.

You didn’t seem alone in your inability to look away, though. You’d caught Eddie staring at you in the hallways more than once, casually leaning against his locker and twisting his silver rings around his fingers. The difference between you, however, was that Eddie never looked away in embarrassment when you caught him watching you. Instead he would tilt his head, wordlessly testing to see if you would question him, knowing you wouldn’t be caught dead talking to him in public. You’d scowl whenever he did this, slamming your locker shut and forfeiting the contest. 

“Dustin won’t shut up about him.”

“Who?” You knew who he was talking about, but you acted confused nonetheless, picking at your manicure as you sat on the hood of your car.

“That freak Eddie Munson,” Steve said, jealousy coating the name. He was leaning against his own car, parked in the spot next to yours. The two of you often found yourselves chatting as you waited to pick up your freeloaders; you were waiting for your brother, Steve waiting for Robin.

“I know, it’s getting ridiculous,” you too were getting sick of Dustin’s dedicated worship to the dungeon master, but part of you was also glad he was annoying Steve too. “Maybe if you hung out with him more-”

“I have a life!”

“-he wouldn’t have so much time for Eddie,” you finished your thought. Steve groaned, throwing his head back to look up at the sun, Ray-Bans perched on his nose. “Speaking of having a life, have you asked out Linda yet?”

“Have you asked out Gavin?”

You made a retching noise. “Ugh, no. He tripped a freshman in the cafeteria the other day and my attraction to him,” you flicked your wrist. “Just like that, poof, it was gone. He has great hair though.”

“You can have great hair without being an asshole. Believe me, I would know.”

“Would you though?” You reached up to ruffle his hair, managing to mess it up before he swatted your hand away. Your giggling was cut short as Steve tugged your head back by your ponytail, loosening the hair tie until it hung limply by your shoulder blades. “Hey! I spend ages getting these curls just right.”

“And you think this comes naturally?” He stared at you a moment over the top of his Ray-Bans before the two of you dissolved into a fit of laughter. You slumped against Steve’s shoulder as the muscles in your stomach began to ache, his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you steady.

“Interrupting something, are we?” You looked up to see Eddie and Dustin standing in front of you. Eddie was holding a shoe box with a scale model of a water wheel, while Dustin was holding the poster-board portion of his science project.

Steve dropped his arm as you rolled your eyes. “If you needed help carrying stuff you should have asked,” you opened the trunk of the car, gesturing for Dustin to put his science project inside.

“Eddie offered,” Dustin tossed his bag next to the water wheel and shut the trunk. “I said I’d help Mike with his so I’ll be back in a sec.” Before you could protest that you had things to do, Dustin rushed off brushing passed Robin as he left.

“Did anyone tell him he’s heading in the wrong direction or are you all too busy standing around doing nothing?” Robin asked, opening the passenger door of Steve’s car and throwing her backpack on the backseat. She gave you a little wave before she hopped in.

“Coming to the store later?”

“Nah, can’t tonight. Got a test first thing tomorrow morning,” you sighed, drumming your fingers on the roof of your car. “I’ll come by after school tomorrow. Brooke said I need to watch Impulse. She said it’s sexy and scary.”

“The best combination. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have fun studying,” he gave you a dorky salute before he got in the car.

You hadn’t even realised Eddie was still standing there until he spoke. “Didn’t know you and Harrington were a thing. Can’t say I’m surprised,” he dug around in his jacket pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

You crossed your arms, already annoyed. “Not that it’s any of your business but we’re not together.”

“Why not?” He stuck a cigarette between his lips, lighting the end. “He seems like your type. You know, an asshole.”

“If assholes were my type I’d be all over you,” it came out more as a sneer than you had anticipated but you stuck with it.

“Who says you aren’t?” When he saw your horrified expression he explained. “I see the way you look at me.”

“I only look to make sure you’re not watching me. You’re a stalker, Munson.”

“Stalker? Does the whole world revolve around you now, sweetheart? I wasn’t aware.”

“Your world does since you seem to be obsessed with me,” at this point it was pretty clear, even to you, that you were deflecting. But there was some small amount of truth in the fact that he watched you as much as you watched him. “I hate you, Eddie Munson. And I’m pretty sure you hate me too.”

Eddie smirked, blowing a spiral of smoke upwards, “it’s a thin line between love and hate.”

You blinked as you processed his words, a knowing smile appearing on your lips when it dawned on you why they sounded so familiar. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you. Now tell me, what do girls usually say when they realise your lines are stolen song lyrics?”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. You’re the first,” he winked as he left you standing shellshocked.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was a chilly Tuesday night, and while you would have much rather be curled up on your couch watching Moonlighting with your mom, you’d instead been dragged to a dingy bar on the outskirts of town by your friend. She had a crush on one of the bartenders; a community college student from the next town over. Inside the bar was thick with cigarette smoke and the floor was sticky with years of spilt beers. An amateur band had taken to the stage and were playing a very subjective form of music. But your friend had assured you that this bar didn’t card.

You shrunk into one of the booths, fingers gripping a tall glass of very foamy beer. You kept glancing across to where your friend sat at the counter, overly affectionate in her flirting with the man behind the bar. Stupidly, she’d been your ride here, meaning you’d either need to convince her to leave or call your mom up to come and save you. Neither seemed like great options. You looked over at the stage, the band was now playing a slower song and you had to admit it wasn’t half bad.

The guitarist was pretty good. You watched him as he concentrated on the riff, his fingers moving quickly along the neck of the guitar, his long hair and the dark stage lights obscuring his face. You couldn’t look away from his hands and suddenly very uninvited thoughts entered your head. Dirty thoughts that had absolutely no excuse to be there, especially about a man whose face you’d never seen. You shook your head trying desperately to shake free the thoughts, but they were somehow gripping onto the corners of your mind; digging in their heels and setting up camp.

You were busy trying to think about other things like kittens and rainbows that you’d barely noticed that the band had stopped playing. Only the scattered applause from the few drunken patrons woke you from your dream state. The band began packing up; unplugging amps and disassembling the drum kit and you contemplated introducing yourself to the mystery guitarist. There was something about him that felt magnetic, but you decided to watch him from a distance for a little longer. There was no point talking to him if he wasn’t cute, after all.

Every time you tried to catch a glimpse of his face something was in the way; either the bassist was chatting with him about something or other, or the bartender was refilling his drink. You were about to finally give up and admit that it was a lost cause when you looked up and saw he was alone at the corner of the stage closest to you. He was fiddling with one of the tuning keeps when he pushed his hair back, the stage light in perfect position to illuminate his face. His annoyingly handsome face.

“No,” you breathed, sinking into the booth with your head down. You did not just spend the last 20 minutes building up the courage to talk to the cool guitarist for it to turn out to be Eddie fucking Munson. You braved a glance up to see him staring right at you, “fuck.” He was smirking, just like always, as he packed his guitar into its case.

Maybe he’d leave you alone. Maybe he would pack up the amps and head off. You didn’t really believe that, groaning as you saw him making his way towards you. 

“Sure you’re in the right place, sweetheart?” He slid effortlessly into the booth opposite you.

“Wait, this isn’t the nail salon?” You feigned confusion, expression quickly souring as his arms stretched over the back of the booth. You didn’t like that he was getting comfortable. You didn’t want to like it.

“Like the set?”

“You’re not Duran Duran.”

Eddie scoffed, “I’m taking that as a compliment.” He leant forward, “what are you doing here, Henderson?”

You glanced over at your friend, it was the first time you had checked in on her in a while and the innocent flirting had advanced to making out as she and the bartender swallowed each other’s tongues. 

Eddie followed your gaze, “oh.”

“Yeah,” you downed the last of your beer. “She’s my ride.”

“I can drive you home,” he said it easily, as if it was no big deal.

You were hesitant to take him up on the offer, but due to your friend’s current activities you might just have to. “Really?” You weren’t sure how you’d manage the drive home in such close quarters.

“Sure. You can help me load the amps.”

After managing to pull your friend apart from her make out companion long enough to tell her you’d found a ride home, Eddie had stuck to his guns and made you help him pack the amps into the back of his van. His van smelled warm, like old spice and smoke, with the faint earthy hint of weed. It was nice and cosy, a safe haven from the frigid December air outside. You waited for Eddie to turn on the ignition, but he hesitated.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“What?” You weren’t expecting him to ask you that. It was true that you’d told him those three big words before, but it was more of a heat of the moment explosion than the truth. “I don’t actually hate you.” He just got on your nerves and if you were honest you weren’t even sure why.

“You obviously don’t like me.”

“You don’t like me,” you pointed out, remembering the first conversation you two had shared and the insults you’d both made at the other’s social rank.

“I do like you,” he sounded earnest, his voice soft.

You paused, “you like me?”

“Yeah, you’re not what I thought you’d be like.” You frowned and Eddie cringed, “I didn’t mean-” he attempted to grasp for the right words. “I thought you’d be a stereotype, but I was wrong. I’m sorry for what I said when we first met.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Not really,” he leant back against the headrest, his face turned to watch you. The moonlight reflected in his dark brown eyes showing shimmering flecks of amber. “Dustin talks about you a lot. He talks about Harrington too but I’m more interested in what he has to say about you.” You couldn’t help the smile that escaped through your well maintained facade of indifference and Eddie caught it. “That’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.”

You blushed. What on earth was he doing to you? You looked down, a million thoughts raced through your head but the one you focused on was telling you to get it together.

You didn’t hate Eddie Munson, but you didn’t exactly like him either. You didn’t even know him. All you knew about him came from what your brother had told you. He liked metal music, played the guitar, and led the most epic DnD campaigns. He was cool, according to Dustin, Lucas, and Mike, and he’d taken the three freshman under his wing on the first day of school. Eddie Munson hadn’t done anything to make you dislike him, in fact the way he was looking out for your brother and his friends should endear you to him. He’d even apologised for insulting you the first time you’d met. Maybe Chrissy was right, maybe Eddie was a good guy.

You weren’t sure what made you lean in, but within seconds you were kissing him. He tasted like tobacco and beer, and ever so slightly like juicy fruit. His mouth felt warm, his tongue lingering against your bottom lip, like he wasn’t game enough to make the next move.

“Kiss me,” you urged, tugging his head towards you. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed because the instant his lips met yours for the second time all bets were off.

He groaned as your fingers curled against his scalp, his hands landing on your hips and pulling you across the centre console onto his lap. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it in the backseat and his movements made your back bump against the steering wheel. You didn't care, too focused on the feeling of Eddie’s hands travelling beneath your sweater, your own hands tugging the material of his raglan shirt away from his skin. You shivered as his thumbs brushed below your ribcage and you wanted nothing more than for him to explore further, but you were in his van. And his van was in the parking lot of a shady bar. And people were beginning to file out of the shady bar into the parking lot.

“Eddie,” it came out more like a moan as his lips moved to the skin on your neck.

“Hmm?” You didn’t want him to stop, you never wanted this to stop.

“It’s getting late,” it took every fibre of your being to place your hands on his chest and push him back. You hoped to God he could see the disappointment in your eyes under the flickering neon of the Hideout sign.

“Oh,” hands slipped out from beneath your sweater and landed on your waist. His fingers toyed with the belt loops on your jeans. “You need to get home.”

“I don’t want to,” you really didn’t and Eddie’s mood seemed to lighten at your confession. “But I should. I’m sorry.”

“No, s’fine,” he cleared his throat and loosened his grip on you allowing you to clamber back into the passenger seat. “You live on Vine, right?”

“Yeah,” you felt a little out of breath and you straightened your sweater as he pulled out of the parking lot. You couldn’t figure out why he made you so nervous. You’d been with boys before, popular boys too. But Eddie was different and you weren’t sure why.

The drive was silent for the next couple of minutes, tension thick in the air as you gathered up the courage to make a suggestion. “Eddie?”

“Yeah?” You could see his knuckles whiten against the steering wheel when you said his name. 

“If you don’t have anywhere to be,” you drifted off. Snap out of it, just ask him. “Do you want to come in? Everyone will be asleep.”

You could just make out his grin as street lamps flashed passed. “Absolutely.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You told Eddie to park a few houses down, saying you didn’t need to explain to Dustin why his friend’s highly recognisable van was parked out front of your house in the middle of the night.

“My brother’s room is next door so don’t talk too loudly,” you hurried Eddie into your bedroom, softly closing the door behind you and sliding the lock shut. It had taken some begging but your mom finally let you put a lock on your door after Dustin kept recording Saturday Night Live over the top of your tapes of The Love Boat.

The room felt suffocatingly quiet and you were certain Eddie could hear the hammering of your heartbeat, so you moved over to the cassette recorder and chose a tape; the opening notes to More Than This softly played through the speakers. Eddie took a seat on your bed, looking around the room while you twisted the vertical blinds shut and closed the sheer pink curtains. 

“For some reason I pictured more posters of Ralph Macchio.”

“They’re all inside my closet,” you kicked off your shoes and sat cross-legged next to him. “Along with my shrine to Thomas Magnum.”

“Is it the moustache that does it for you? Because I’ll tell you know if I grew one I’d look like a 70s porn star.”

“Wouldn’t that be kind of hot?” You moved a little closer to him, your knee pressing against his thigh.

“Have you seen the guys in porn? Definitely not.”

“I think I’ve seen maybe one porno in my entire life. Something where a girl orders a pizza-”

“With extra sausage? Then you’ve seen most of them,” he’d placed his hand on your knee now, slowly inching it up your thigh.

“This is not how I thought my night would go.”

He started to pull back but you grabbed his hand to keep him close. “Are you regretting it?”

You shook your head, your fingers intertwined with his. You wondered if his rings would leave indentations in your skin when he gripped your thighs. “No, not at all.” You took a deep breath, ready to admit to the butterflies that had been sitting in your stomach since you’d left the Hideout. “You just make me nervous.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “I make you nervous? Princess you terrify me. I’m shaking in my boots here.”

“So we both feel the same way.” You dropped his hand back against your thigh, pushing it slowly between your legs. You still had a pair of thick denim jeans on but Eddie got the message. “Maths states they should cancel each other out. You should kiss me to make sure.”

“If that’s what maths says,” he leant forward and you instinctively fell back, your head hitting the quilted pillow. Eddie was hovering over you, his lips soft and pink about an inch above yours. He dipped lower, brushing against the underside of your jaw, below your ear, and over your cheekbone before he finally pushed your lips apart with his. This kiss felt different from the last, not as flustered or bruising. His tongue moved languidly against yours; it felt like he was trying to memorise the shapes and textures, taking his time and eliciting little gasps when he nibbled and sucked. You lost yourself in the feeling of him, time slowing and the sounds of Brian Ferry’s vocals becoming nothing more than a humming buzz of white noise.

You were normally great at multitasking, but Eddie had left you in a haze. You’d done this a few times before, notable players including the asshole basketball star in your sophomore year and the college kid who’d returned home for the holidays when you were a junior. You’d even slept with Steve a few times over the summer out of sheer boredom, but none of them had made you tingle with electric energy the way Eddie did. You were so focused on the rhythm of the kiss that you hadn’t even realised he’d unzipped your jeans until his fingers pushed your panties aside and dipped between your folds.

“God you’re so wet already,” you squirmed when you felt the pressure of his finger against your clit, a little whine getting stuck in your throat. “Is this okay?”

You nodded wildly, hair falling in front of your eyes.

“Need you to use your words, sweetheart.”

“It’s good Eddie. I need more,” you jerked your hips upward and he obliged by rhythmically rubbing your clit. He could only do so much with his hand down your pants, his movements awkwardly affected by the denim. “Faster.”

“I can’t, your jeans are in the way.”

You huffed, pushing him back so he was sitting on his heels. You pulled off your jeans, frustratingly throwing them to the ground. You ripped off your sweater while you were at it, leaving you only in your panties and your bra. “Better?”

“Your underwear is still in the way,” he sounded genuine but you could see the smug glint in his eye.

“Take off clothes, you’ve got your dirty sneakers on my bed,” you folded your arms across your chest and watched as he appeased you. “Have you got a condom?”

“In my wallet, yeah. But I left it in my van.”

You got up and went to your wardrobe, opening a drawer and tearing a condom from the roll hidden beneath your underwear. You turned around to face Eddie and saw him watching you from the bed. He had made himself comfortable, stretched out on top of your floral quilt, his hands clasped behind his head. Your eyes trailed over his body, taking in the tattoos that painted his chest and arms, the line of dark hair on his pale stomach that disappeared beneath his boxers, to the hard bulge prominent beneath the checked fabric. 

You handed him the foil packet. “Hope it’s not too big.”

“Ouch, that hit me right in my ego.”

“Like that’s hard,” he moved across the bed as you slipped below the covers. You watched as he pulled his boxers down, his cock hitting his stomach. He was bigger than you’d expected, and his dick was oddly pretty. His hair was neatly trimmed and coarse curls sat at the base, you imagined they’d provide a delicious friction against your clit. The head of his cock was perfectly rounded too, flushed a deep red and leaking at the tip.

“You’re drooling,” he’d rolled the condom on and had dipped below the covers, his thigh pressed against yours.

You realised your lips were parted and you quickly shut them, frowning. “Am not.” You pulled off your underwear and straddled his lap. His cock pressed against your cunt and you ground down. “Shut up.”

“Just saying I’m not opposed to you blowing me.”

“Not happening,” your hand wrapped around the base of his cock and held it steady against your cunt, lifting your hips up so the tip breached your entrance.

“There’s always next time.”

“In your dreams,” you sank down on his length, his cock stretching your walls exquisitely. When you sat flush against his thighs, you could fill the head nudging at the spongy spot deep inside your core.

“This is better than my dreams, believe me,” he gripped your waist, helping you slide up and down on his length. You rolled your hips, changing the angle and he let out a guttural groan. “Fuck, do that again.”

You arched your back, your hips doing most of the work. You reached down, your hand between both your bodies as you rubbed your clit. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off the space between you where your bodies met, watching as his cock slipped and disappeared inside you, only to emerge glistening wet before repeating the motions. “God, I can feel you squeezing around me, fuck, princess, keep doing that.”

“Eddie.” He’d replaced his fingers against your clit with his own, his pace was sloppy and desperate but it was just what you needed. 

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you since we met. God, I’ve dreamt of your pussy but it’s so much better than I ever imagined. It’s magic, sweetheart. You have a magic pussy, I swear.”

His words sent you over the edge, your legs trembling as your hips stilled against him. Eddie bucked into you a few more times before he too came with a shuddered moan. “Fucking hell.”

“Fucking hell,” he agreed, brushed the hair that had again fallen in front of your eyes behind your ear. “You are a devil woman.”

“Me?” 

“Yep," he helped you off his lap, his hand naturally gripping your thigh when you settled onto the mattress next to him. You were pleased to find that his rings did leave little marks against your skin. "Tempting and taunting me with your perfect body. I was an innocent man before I met you.”

Your head fell against his shoulder, watching the rise and fall of his chest. “Innocent? Really?”

“You’re not playing along, you have to play along.”

“Oh sorry,” you cleared your throat. “Now that I’ve put you under my spell I can do whatever I want to you.”

“No, evil sorceress, please don’t use me to satiate your sexual desires. I won’t be a part of your satanic bidding, for I’m just a humble, God fearing farm boy.”

“How much backstory do you have for this character?”

“Too much. We’ll work on it. Get you a pair of devil horns and really flesh it out.”

Eddie stayed for a while, talking to you in hushed whispers long after both sides of the cassette had been played. He ended up crawling through your window just as the sky began to lighten.

“You look tired, honey. What time did you get in last night?” Your mom poured coffee into her mug, frowning at you.

“Not too late,” you pushed cereal around your bowl. “We got sidetracked by a girl who used to be on the cheer team and when I realised the time it was too late to call.”

“Next time, call anyway. It makes me feel better knowing you’re okay,” she patted your shoulder, adjusting the bow on your ponytail. “I hope you had a good time, you need to have fun while you’re still young.”

“I’m sure she had a blast,” Dustin smirked, his eyebrows wiggling. You shot him a questioning look but ignored him like you did most mornings. Once your mom had left the kitchen, Dustin leant across the table. “So I heard something funny last night.”

You kept your expression as neutral as possible but internally you were cringing. “Oh yeah? What did you hear?”

“Kind of sounded like someone falling out a window at 5am.”

“Wow, that’s so weird. Crazy what you hear early in the morning.”

“You had a boy over,” Dustin laughed in a sing-song voice.

You clapped your hand over his mouth and looked wildly around for any indication that your mother was in ear shot. “Shut up, virgin.” His brows furrowed and your expression faltered, you wanted him to be quiet but you hadn’t meant to be mean about it. “Sorry, low blow.”

“You know Suzie is waiting till marriage.”

“Doesn’t help that she’s in Utah.”

Dustin ignored you. “So, who’s the mystery man?”

“Just some guy. Probably won’t see him again.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After the first time, sneaking around with Eddie became your new favourite hobby. It became a normal part of your day to steal kisses in mop closets, or find hastily written notes stuffed in your locker giving you compliments or asking you to meet him in the woods during your next free period.

What started out as a hot and heavy romance filled with make out sessions and Eddie almost breaking his neck sneaking out of your window slowly turned into movie nights and pancake dates at the diner off I-69. During one such night where Eddie had finally caved to watching Romancing The Stone, he’d introduced you to Uncle Wayne as his girlfriend.

“Girlfriend? When did that happen?” You’d asked in an attempt at a nonchalant tone. Underneath the blanket your heart was pounding.

“A few weeks ago. I figured when you started coming ‘round to watch movies and you weren’t trying to get in my pants there was something more to this than just sex.” He grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on your lap. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah. I’m okay with that.”

Since you now had a boyfriend, you wanted to go out and do things on a Saturday night. You hadn’t planned for your night to be spent chaperoning your brother while he hosted Hellfire in the basement, but your mom didn’t trust a group of teenage boys to behave. She had a singles mixer in Indy and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow so she’d left you, the responsible older sister, in charge. At least that meant Eddie was around, even if he’d be spending his evening playing DnD with your younger brother instead of playing adventurer and tavern wench with you in your bedroom. 

“What kind of pizza do you guys want?” You didn’t bother descending the steps instead choosing to poke your head around the basement door and call down the stairs.

“Pepperoni.”

“Extra sausage!” You could guess who called that one out.

“Cheese.”

“Mushroom.”

“Supreme.”

You sighed, descending a few steps so you could see the boys sitting around the table. “I’m going to need a straight answer, it doesn’t work if you just shout different toppings at me.” You were wearing skimpy pyjama shorts and you could feel the boys’ eyes creeping up your bare legs. When you scanned the table Mike and Gareth quickly looked away, their necks flushed red at being caught gawking, but Eddie just smirked, his eyes still stuck on you and his tongue tracing his bottom lip.

“Get two pepperoni, one cheese, and one supreme,” Dustin looked around the table for approval, which he got in the form of nods. “No one wants mushroom pizza, Jeff.”

The problem with Dustin hosting Hellfire was that they’d drank all your soda. You had your head stuck in the fridge trying to find a can of something fizzy to drink when you felt a smack against your ass.

You jumped, hitting your head on the shelf in the fridge. “Jesus Christ.”

“Nope, just me,” you spun around to see Eddie grinning playfully at you. When you frowned, hand pressed against where you’d hit your head, he pouted. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you but your ass was right there.” He pulled you against him by your hips, smoothing your hair flat and pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. “There, all better.”

You smiled into his chest, the sharp pain had suddenly disappeared. “What do you want, idiot?”

“Just came to see what the plan is tonight since your mom is away.”

“I think Lucas and Mike are staying over. Might be a little risky.”

“No biggie, I’ll park in the next street and sneak in through your window. Risky is hot.”

“I forgot danger turns you on." You kissed his cheek. "Pretty sure Gareth was checking me out when I came downstairs.”

“Have you seen these shorts you’re wearing? Almost made me cream my pants, Jesus H. Christ.” His hands cupped your ass and squeezed the flesh. “So distracting, you’re throwing me off my game.”

“Since when do you have game?”

“Pshaw, I have game. Got you to sleep with me, didn’t I?”

“But you love me.”

“Mmm, I do.”

Your skin felt like it had been lit on fire. He loves you. You hadn’t said those words to each other yet. It had only been a couple of months since you’d started seeing each other. You thought you felt something like love for him, but you weren't sure. You’d been feeling something deep, something that pulled at your heartstrings, something that made you feel safe.

You pulled back to look at him, searching his eyes for any hint of regret. Maybe he’d misspoke, maybe he was just playing along.

“I do love you,” his hand slipped beneath your sweater and stroked the skin on your lower back, it was like he was grounding himself to the moment. “You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready,” you nodded, your hand cupping his cheek. “I love you too, Eddie.”

He dipped his head down to reach your mouth, his lips slotting perfectly against yours. You let out a sigh, relaxing into his body as he sat you on the kitchen counter. Your legs wrapped around his thighs pulling him closer until you could feel a growing hardness pressing between your legs.

“Ew, ew, ew,” your younger brother’s voice shattered your reverie. Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were plummeting back to earth. Your head shot back and you saw Dustin, alongside the rest of the Hellfire gang standing inside the kitchen. “What the fuck?!”

You went to pull your body away but Eddie’s hand on your back kept you in place. “Relax, Dustin,” he spoke steadily, but you noticed his pupils were still blown and he had a dreamy sort of calmness to his expression.

“Relax? You’re devouring my sister. We eat here! What’s going on?”

You hopped down from the counter but stayed close to Eddie’s side, his arm still tightly wrapped around your waist. “We’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh my god,” realisation hit Dustin like a semi truck. “He’s the guy who’s been sneaking into your room at night? She’s the hot chick you’ve been seeing?”

You lightly hit Eddie’s shoulder, “you told them? What did you say?”

Eddie winced, “not a lot.”

“You said you had sex at Lover’s Lake last week!”

You swatted his chest, a little harder this time. “Eddie, oh my god, why would you tell them that.”

Gareth laughed, “ha! We totally thought you’d made that up, that’s awesome.”

Eddie waved his hand dramatically, “see I told you it was cool!” At Dustin’s look of horror he frowned. “I’m sorry, we didn’t think you’d find out this way.”

“We were going to tell you,” you nodded. It was a flat out lie you definitely weren’t planning on telling Dustin anytime soon but he didn’t need to know that.

“When? When I’m bailing you out for public indecency?”

He was not letting this go, you had to pull out the big guns. “Eddie’s coming over for dinner tomorrow. I’m going to introduce him to mom.”

“Oh,” Dustin’s expression changed. He knew you must be serious if you were introducing Eddie to mom, you’d never introduced a boyfriend to your mom before.

“I am?” You stomped on Eddie’s foot and he got the message, “yes, I mean I am. Super excited.”

“And he’s staying over tonight,” you added. Eddie would just have to deal without the sexy addition of risk. You’d much prefer to have him leave via the front door than falling out the window again.

“But they’re staying over tonight,” Dustin gestured to Mike and Lucas.

“And we do not need to hear your weird sex noises,” Lucas chimed in from the sidelines, Mike nodding.

Your eyes widened, “excuse me?”

“Our sex noises are not weird,” Eddie said taking an odd amount of offense to the comment.

“Not what I was going to say, babe. We’re not going to have sex with you lot down the hall.”

“We’re not?” Eddie asked.

At the same time Dustin snidely remarked, “never stopped you before.”

“Dustin, please be cool about this. I know he’s your friend, but we like each other a lot.”

“Yeah, man. Like a lot, a lot.”

Dustin looked between you two, noticing how you’d never pulled apart from each other. “Fine. This is going to take some getting used to but okay. But if you hurt him,” you raised your eyebrows at Dustin, waiting for him to explain how he would exact his revenge on Eddie for hurting his precious older sister, but Eddie was watching you. Your brain reset. He’d said if you hurt him. 

You blinked. “Wait, if I hurt him? What about if he hurts me?”

“You’ll be fine,” Dustin brushed off your concern. “Eddie, however, would never recover if you broke his heart.”

“It’s true princess. I would forever be a broken man.” He brought your hand up to his lips and placed a chaste kiss to the skin.

You sighed in defeat but still squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry, I plan on keeping your heart safe for a very long time.”

Thank you @edwrite-munson for this request! Oh my god guys this fic drained the life out of me please send me some love 💌

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Teenage Dirtbag

Pairing: Eddie Munson x short, plus-sized, girly-ish, female reader.

WC: ~9K

Warnings: cursing, eddie being a lil bit of a horndog, unrequited but not unrequited love

A/N: This song screamed Eddie Munson to me and I had to write it, I don't know what to say for myself lmao I thought it was going to be 1K at most. Welp.

Masterlist || AO3

Eddie Munson knew he wasn’t the smartest person in town. He was far from the dumbest, Jason Carver took that title by a landslide.

In fact, Eddie would dare to say he was actually pretty intelligent. He wasn’t book smart, not with subjects he didn’t give a shit about, but he had common sense. Which, clearly, wasn’t so common – especially in Hawkins.

However, even Eddie had to admit that he was the dumbest son of a bitch on this planet sometimes.

The primary example was when he managed to fall in love with you, his English tutor. 

After Eddie had bombed the first major test – on his second go at his senior year – his teacher had assigned him a mandatory tutor.

“I know you think I don’t like you,” Ms. O'Donnell said, her sharp eyes softening when Eddie snorted, “but I want you to succeed. You’re smarter than you let on and I can see that.”

“Don’t feel bad. All teachers hate me,” Eddie joked, a thread of truth to it.

“Well not me,” she said, “and to prove it to you – I’m going to assign you a tutor.”

What? “Aw, come on,” Eddie groaned, “I’ll do better on the next one!”

Ms. O’Donnell rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said all last year. I was the one who signed off on you using my classroom for Hellfire Club you know. It’s been four years and I’ve seen some of the things you come up with. You’re good at writing, Mr. Munson. You just need to apply yourself.”

Wait, she knew about some of his campaigns? “Which I’ll do from now on!” The comical expression on her face indicated that Eddie was not getting through to her.

“Trust me,” she said, “she took my advanced placement course as a sophomore. She’s a senior, like you, and she’s willing to do it as a favor to me.”

“Is this mandatory?” Eddie winced when his teacher’s sharp gaze returned.

“Yes,” she said, her expression softening when Eddie slumped. “I’ll make you a deal, just let her tutor you for the next quiz. If you get higher than a C, with genuine effort, you can opt out.”

“Deal,” Eddie sighed.

And now here he was, four months later and definitely more than one aced quiz later, with you in your first sundress of the season. Eddie had been waiting for you at the library, the same table in the back – hidden behind the cookbook shelves – when you walked in. The thin straps drew his attention first, his eyes trailing down to the neckline which exposed the swell of your breasts in a way that had Eddie shifting nervously in his seat.

You’d apologized, sitting down hastily, your breath coming out in quick pants. Your car hadn’t started this morning so you had to ask Dustin, your neighbor, to borrow his bike to get here.

The image of you biking in that dress was something that he didn’t know he needed.

Like always, you pulled out your battered copy of The Great Gatsby and got to work. Eddie had read the book, you’d been right – he did like it – but spent most of the first hour watching you explain the chapters he’d been assigned.

There was just something about the way your eyes lit up when you started rambling about literary terms and characterization. You tended to speak with your hands, cherry-colored nails flying as you waved a hand in the air.

Oh, you were saying his name. “Are you listening Eddie?” You asked, eyes shooting him a knowing look.

“Shortcake, I always listen to every word you say,” Eddie joked, winking. A flustered expression overtook your face and Eddie watched your fingers come up to your hair, a sure sign that his comment had hit. He hated the rush of serotonin that gave him.

See? Complete dumbass behavior.

“Pay attention, you have a quiz next week and then we start working on your final paper,” you said, tapping his hand softly. The warmth of your skin sent an electric current up his arm and straight to his chest. “Here, I brought an outline of what I thought would be good topics for you to choose from. I’m partial to Shakespeare – oh don’t give me that look – but I listed other options too. Let me see if they finally got that book that I was looking for.”

Eddie nodded and failed to avert his eyes as you walked away. Your hips swayed as the black patterned dress rippled with your movement.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. Eddie glanced at the paper you’d handed him, your handwriting neat and precise. He’d been dreading meeting you when Ms. O’Donnell had mentioned your name. You weren’t a cheerleader but you basically friends with the whole squad. He’d seen you at parties when he was selling, you always seemed nice but Eddie knew from experience that the popular crowd were just vultures waiting for a sign of weakness. Eddie wasn’t going to be stupid enough to expose any.

“Oh, hey, Lucas!” Your voice carried from a few shelves away. Eddie straightened. “I haven’t seen you since the last campaign!”

Eddie couldn’t hear what Lucas answered but your quiet laughter sent the equally stupid butterflies in his ribcage into chaos. Eddie fought a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. Honestly, he could hardly be at fault when you had the audacity to have a laugh as cute as that.

“Did you look over the outline? Oh, are you okay?” You asked, eyes pinched in concern. Eddie shook his head, his hair settling around his shoulders.

“I’m fine, just a little tired,” he lied. “Was that Sinclair I heard?”

You beamed at him and Eddie swore he felt his heart stop in his chest. Jesus H. Christ, he was going to send you the bill when you sent him to the ER. “It was! I can’t believe he’s taller than me now,” you said, wrinkling your nose when Eddie laughed, “oh shut up. I meant, I used to babysit them. They were all little munchkins a few minutes ago. Now they’re freshman. That’s wild.”

“Calm down there, grandma,” Eddie retorted as you rolled your eyes, “besides, it’s not exactly hard to be taller than you nowadays shortcake.”

Eddie could tell you were trying your best to bite back a grin. “You know, I’m the one who brought your grade up from a F to a B minus, you should be nicer to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend you your highness?” Eddie swooned, hands on chest, as he leaned back in his chair. “How can I ever thank you for saving me?”

“By passing your last quiz of the year,” you said dryly, eyes lighting up, “and maybe picking Macbeth for your final essay.”

Eddie snorted. “Not likely.”

“And that’s how you treat your hero?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes.

Fuck, those should come with a goddamn warning.

“How about I make you a mixtape?” Eddie joked, chewing at the end of his pen and giving your outline another look.

Your face, however, completely lit up. “Deal!”

“What?” Eddie stammered, dropping the pen from his mouth.

“No take-backs Munson!” You laughed, shrinking when the librarian shot you a look. Eddie huffed a laugh at your contrite expression and watched you turn back to him. “You get a passing grade on these last two assignments and you make me a mixtape as a physical form of your eternal gratitude.”

“Shortcake, I don’t think we have the same music tastes,” he said, eyeing the Walkman you’d left at the corner of the table with your bag.

A haughty look cross your face and the stupid butterflies slammed into his small intestine painfully. “How would you know?” You asked. “You barely ask me anything outside of English.” The second part was quieter, almost involuntary and Eddie was suddenly struck by something.

Eddie had never pushed for anything more than you had freely given. He tried not to ask about what you were doing, what you liked, or what your weekend plans were. You’d smile to him in the hallways at school but you had completely different schedules so you rarely saw each other. Besides, Eddie had an ingrained self-preservation intuition and vehemently avoided any contact with the popular crowd.

While Eddie was not a betting man, he took calculated risks. You were – beyond the ability to analyze. But…the way your face had twisted, maybe he’d gotten his signals wrong? Had you wanted him to be your friend? He’d always assumed you were doing this to fulfill some extracurricular activity. Wouldn’t you be…embarrassed to be seen with him?

“Alright sweetheart,” Eddie said eventually, “educate me then.”

You stuck out your tongue, breaking the tension and tucked your Walkman into your bag. “Too late. You snooze you lose Munson,” you said, packing up your stuff. Eddie glanced at his watch and was once again astounded to realize two hours had flown by.

“I’ll see you next week at the same time?” You asked. “Drop your paper outline in my locker and I’ll take a look at it so we have something to cover.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Eddie saluted.

“Oh,” you said, hand elbow deep in your bag, “you see Mike tomorrow, right? At Hellfire?”’

Eddie frowned, unsure. “Yeah?”

“Can you give him these?” You asked, dropping a set of die in his hands. “He wanted to borrow my old set.”

Glancing at the well cared for set in his hand, Eddie gaped. “Are these holographic?”

You grinned and pulled your backpack onto your shoulders. “Yeah! Dustin got them for me for my birthday a while ago. They’re custom! He painted them for me.”

Eddie felt his throat dry up and was almost positive he’d floated up into the stratosphere. Seriously, a semitruck could’ve trampled him and he would’ve been less surprised.

“You coming?” You asked, totally unaware of how close Eddie was to offering you his heart on a platter.

Spurred into action, Eddie pocketed the set carefully and grabbed his bag. “Yeah, I- I’m coming.” He took in your carefully stacked bracelets and dainty necklace. Your pink sandals echoed in the hallway as you made your way to the familiar bike chained outside. How did someone like you play dnd?

“Dustin taught me,” you said as you walked the bike next to his van.

“What?”

You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and squinting a little at the sun in your eyes. The air in his lungs caught at the sight of your skin in the light. Were you holographic? “Dustin and the other kids I babysat taught me how to play. I’m not very good,” you admitted sheepishly, “that’s why I never told you.”

“Oh,” he said, because his brain still wasn’t totally back from its trip into space.

“I’m an elf rogue,” you said, shrugging, “Will said it suits me since I used to practice archery.”

Eddie bit down on his cheek hard enough to almost draw blood. He fought every nerve in his body to not glare at the sky. Really universe? Really? Was his daily pining not enough?

“You’re a box of surprises, aren’t you, shortcake?” Eddie said, rocking on his heels.

You grinned. “I’m rusty at that too. My aunt lives in Indianapolis and she’s won a few competitions in archery. I’d stay with her over the summer breaks and she taught me. It was fun to run around thinking I was some kind of mini-Hawkeye or something.”

At that, he couldn’t hide his surprise. “Marvel?”

“I told you,” you said, looking incredibly flustered, as your eyes went down to your feet, “I babysat Dustin. For years. Some of it stuck.”

Say something, he urged, voice stuck in his throat.

“Uh, so I’m going to go,” you said, bright smile back on your face.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck. “Do you want a ride?” He asked, gesturing to his van. Great, that’s the best he could come up with?

You turned your smile in his direction and Eddie almost stumbled at the power of it. Jesus, he really needed to get a grip on himself. This couldn’t be healthy.

Nodding, you’d taken a step towards him when a loud honk popped the bubble you both were tucked into. Eddie glanced over your shoulder and felt reality sucker punch him in the throat.

“Hey baby!” Nick shouted, torso almost hanging out that stupid Camaro window. “I’ve been looking for you. Your sister said you’d be here.”

Aaaand that was the second reason he was a complete dumbass.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, looking embarrassed. “Thanks for the offer.”

“Mhmm, see ya,” Eddie said, darting towards his van and completely missing your look.

Eddie started his van and shot out of the parking lot. He risked a glance in his rearview mirror and immediately regretted it. You were tucked into the quarterback’s arms, his face ducking down to yours, and Eddie tightened his hold on the steering wheel.

You had a boyfriend – a jock no less – because of course you did, since when did life ever like to be fair to him? Why would it ever start now? Eddie scrambled for the cigarette carton in his passenger’s seat and lit one up. Nick Jackson had been the one who almost broke Gareth’s nose last year in gym class. Nick Jackson would absolutely kick his ass if he knew how gone he was on his girlfriend.

What type of asshole had two first names anyway? And how the hell had he managed to land someone like you?

He knew the answer, obviously, but he was still in shock despite the fact that Eddie had seen you two together for the past month.

Whatever. Fuck high school. The second he had that diploma in his hands he was driving out of here and not looking back.

Eddie was over school. He’d finally gotten the news that he’d been given the green light to graduate and the first person he wanted to tell was you.

So, to mediate that, he decided to skip his last two classes and gone out to the picnic table in the woods behind the school to smoke. Taking another drag, Eddie leaned back onto the rough wood table and snorted. Who would’ve thought? He’d known ’86 was going to be his year.

Although it was in no small part thanks to you. Eddie had seen you this morning – dressed in a blue ruffled skirt, with a cardigan and a shirt that hid absolutely none of your curves. He’d felt like someone had slammed a locker door in his face, blood rushing to the bottom half of his body.

The sound of a branch snapping had Eddie jumping up, instinctively flinging the joint off towards the trees. He turned towards the sound, excuse on the tip of his tongue, when his throat closed. You stood there, shy smile on your face, hands gripping your bags strap tightly.

“Hey Munson,” you said, motioning to the table. “Can I join you?”

“Uh, yeah shortcake, please,” he gestured grandly to the old, rusted table like it was worth a million bucks. “Welcome to my hide out. Uh, sorry for the smell and the smoke.”

You laughed, eyes wrinkling and mouth turning up like he was hilarious. “I actually wanted to ask if I could buy some off of you,” you scrunched your nose and Eddie felt his heart stop. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“What?” Eddie smacked his hand to his chest exaggeratedly. “Me? Make fun? Of you? I’m insulted.”

“Ah yes, because you’re so friendly,” you joked. “I’ve never smoked before so could you sell me something already rolled?”

Eddie grinned. “You’re in luck shortcake,” he said, patting his denim vest for the bag he knew was keeping for later, “I’ve got some for you right here.”

“How much?” You asked, searching for your wallet.

Waving off your offer, Eddie dropped it onto your bag. “Consider it a thank you for helping me get to graduation.”

You froze, eyes darting up to his and Eddie couldn’t help the grin that grew on his face. “Oh my God, Eddie, don’t joke with me about this.”

“I’m not!” He laughed, opening his arms and throwing his head back. “I’m finally fucking out of here!”

Without warning, you threw your arms around him. Eddie stumbled, more than a little surprised, and stilled for a second. His arms, however, were much smarter and quicker than the rest of him because they settled immediately on the curves of your hips. You squeezed him tightly, your fingers scratching almost subconsciously at his back in soothing circles. “I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it Eddie, I knew it.”

Eddie leaned back to see that you were beaming, eyes bright and smile so wide it looked like it could crack your face in two. The sun pierced through the shade of the trees, landing on you like a natural spotlight – because of course it did. “Well, it’s mostly thanks to you. I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. Which, was a hundred percent true.

He watched your eyes drift down his face, and for a millisecond he could’ve sworn they landed on his lips, but before he could confirm – you’d darted away. Hands fluttering down your pink cardigan, you soothed out the non-existent wrinkles and frowned.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I didn’t mean – I know people hate when I – I’m sorry.”

“When you what?” Eddie furrowed his brows, confused. “Don’t be sorry.”

You wrung your hands together and Eddie hated how small you tried to become. “I – uh, Nick hated when I just hugged him out of nowhere,” you sighed, “I’m sorry.”

Reason number one that jock was a dumbass. If Eddie had the chance, he’d cling to you like a goddamn koala.

“Hey, what’d I say? We’re friends, right?” Eddie asked, ducking to try and catch your eyes.

“Are we?” You said, surprised.

Eddie clutched his heart, looking down at his hands as if there were blood, and blinked at you. “I didn’t know you came here to shoot me straight through the heart.”

A beat of silence echoed in the clearing before you laughed, delighted by his antics. Eddie smiled at your joy; you were one of the only people in his life that never complained about his general over the top flair. “I’m sorry,” you said, tone adorably earnest. “I didn’t mean it like that – I thought, well, I thought you didn’t want to be friends with me.”

He couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t but he let out an unattractive laugh and shot you a look. “Shortcake, if anyone was embarrassed to be seen with the other it’s definitely not me.”

An indignant sort of expression settled in your entire body. Eddie watched you, fascinated. He’d never seen you be anything but a human personification of a sunbeam.

“I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you,” you huffed, crossing your arms and Eddie’s eyes darted to the top of your head. Jesus Christ. He was not going to stare at your chest like a fucking pervert. He was not. Completely oblivious to his plight, you continued huffing. “I’ve tried to say hi to you like three times since I started tutoring you. You always looked like I was a lion who’d caught a mouse.”

“Because popular kids don’t talk to the outcasts, sweetheart. Don’t take it personally,” he sighed, “it’s a self-preservation tactic.”

You blinked at him. Eddie cringed internally – of course he fucked this up not even two minutes in. He scrambled to think of a way to rectify it when you sighed.

“Nick said he didn’t want me tutoring you anymore,” you said quietly.

Eddie didn’t know he could hear a heart shatter but he was positive that his just fell to the floor beneath him. That asshole. Didn’t he have enough? Thanks a lot universe.

“He said it wasn’t becoming of me to keep doing this so he wanted me to stop. I knew it was because he didn’t like you though,” you admitted.

Sighing, Eddie sat back down onto the table and pulled out another joint. Lighting it up he took a drag and blew the smoke towards his left. “So, I guess this is goodbye?”

A bird nearby sang, as if knowing he needed a soundtrack for this car crash waiting to happen. “No, you idiot,” you snapped, “I broke up with him.”

Everything tilted sideways and Eddie was sure someone had smacked him in the head with something. Maybe his hearing was off? “I’m sorry, I think I had a small seizure. Did you say you broke up with him?”

You nodded, coming over to sit across from him. “I never really liked him that much anyway. Chrissy thought we’d be cute together but I’m pretty sure I’m not his ideal type.”

“What, why is perfect too intimidating for him?” Eddie asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. Jesus fucking – just take him out. Universe? You can take me out now! He screamed internally.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, ducking your head. Eddie saw the pleased smile on your face before you hid it away and it sent a stupidly happy pang through his body. “I meant, well – you know.”

“I really don’t.”

Sighing, you motioned to your body. “You know, someone skinny enough to be a flier on the cheerleading team.”

Eddie felt his spine solidify. “Did he…did he say that to you?” He asked, his vision darkening. “That absolute fucking shithead.” What an asshole. Not only did he have the hottest girl in the entire fucking town but he was taking jabs at you? Eddie wanted to punch something.

“Wait!” Your cool hand wrapped around his wrist and Eddie hadn’t even realized he’d stood and walked in the direction of the school. “Munson! It’s okay – he didn’t say it out loud! Holy shit you’re a lot stronger than you look.”

Eddie felt you wrap your torso around his arm in an attempt to stop him. Your chest pressed against his bicep and Eddie had to close his eyes and think of his great-aunt. A soft poke to his cheek had him looking down at you, amused. You looked like a squirrel clinging to a tree. With a slow nod, he let you walk him to the bench.

“Was that a dig at my body?” He asked. “Do I look weak?”

A mortified expression settled on your face and you immediately shook your head. “That’s not what I meant at all! I just – I meant, I’m – oh, you’re teasing me,” you said, exhaling a loud breath. “I hate you.”

Smiling, Eddie bumped your shoulder with his. “No, you don’t.”

“There’s no hurt feelings, I promise,” you told him, referring to Nick, “I wasn’t what he wanted and he wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Yeah?” Eddie took another drag of his discarded joint. “What’s your type? Swim team? Basketball team? Wait, soccer player.”

You rolled your eyes and bumped his shoulder again. “No,” you said, crossly. “I don’t know. For starters maybe someone who doesn’t think Metallica is just random noise.”

Eddie sighed. He looked up at the sky, a common occurrence at this point, and wondered if whoever was up there was having fun torturing him. You played dnd and you liked Metallica. Sure. Why not? He hoped Mother Nature or God, or whoever, was having a great laugh at his expense.

“I had you pinned for a Madonna girl,” he said eventually, reeling in the affection that seemed to be pouring off him in waves.

“I am, I like a ton of music,” you said, “I’m not condescending with my music tastes.”

Gaping, Eddie shot you a look and fought his smile at your mischievous look. You were going to be the death of him.

“Hi Wayne!” Your voice floated through the front door. Eddie straightened, eyes darting around the room to make sure anything embarrassing was hidden away.

“Hi honey. You know you don’t have to bring me something every time you come over,” he said, sounding pleased. Eddie rolled his eyes. In the past two months, you and Eddie had become fast friends. In fact, Eddie didn’t know how he’d gone almost the entire second half of the school year without bombarding you with questions.

He wanted to know everything about you – he’d take any crumble you’d give him. You’d shown up to Hellfire a few times, went to movies together, and religiously showed up to the Hideout to see him play. Eddie wasn’t sure he remembered his life before you. So, obviously, like nephew like uncle and Wayne had instantly loved you the way Eddie had.

“Munson, you better be decent,” you said, not waiting for an answer and kicking the door down.

“If you really want to see me in a state of undress so badly, all you have to do is ask shortcake,” he said, loving the flustered expression he could draw out of you so quickly.

“I hate you,” you said, daintily sitting on his bed and handing him a napkin full of cookies. You’d made it a habit of baking on the days you were coming over and while Eddie definitely appreciated it – he knew you were bringing them to Wayne. Who, like Eddie, completely fell for your sincerity.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to get to sleep at night is fine with me,” Eddie said, eagerly throwing half the cookie into his mouth. “Denial isn’t healthy though.” He winked.

“Jesus, does this have an off button?” You grumbled, flopping down onto his bed.

Eddie gave himself five seconds to appreciate the way your skirt hitched up higher on your thighs as you laid down, the bright purple material easily the most colorful thing in his room. He felt his eyes glaze over a little, imagining his teeth sinking into the meaty part of your inner thigh, the noises you’d made. Suddenly, you shot up, and Eddie tried his best to look like he wasn’t just being a goddamn pervert.

“Oh, I love this song!” You said, eyes lighting up.

His heart tripped over itself at the sight but he tilted his head and realized he’d left his stereo on as he was stitching a new patch, one you’d gotten him last week onto his vest.

When you know that your time is close at hand

Maybe then you'll begin to understand

Life down here is just a strange illusion

“That’s Iron Maiden,” Eddie said, stupidly.

You rolled your eyes. “I know, shithead,” you joked and Eddie blinked – he didn’t know why the way you cursed like a sailor was still so strange to him. Someone who wore pastels, bright colors, was in track to be valedictorian, and had a smile that rivaled the sun wasn’t someone who he’d thought would be ready to swing at the first sight of conflict. “We’ve been over your music superiority complex already, remember? I’m a woman of many interests.”

Eddie grumbled. You were right – you’d been the one who had bought him Metallica’s new album at the record store downtown when it’d just released. He thought he’d have to fight his way into getting his hands on it but, like always, you were there.

“So, do you remember how much you love me?” You asked, teasing. Eddie’s pathetic heart thumped against his ribcage and he glanced up at you.

“Why does that sound like the prelude to something I’m going to hate?”

You smiled, batting your eyelashes, and pressing your folded hands under your chin. “I need someone to go to the mall with me on Saturday. Pretty, pretty, please? I’ll do anything you want!”

Eddie’s brain short circuited for brief moment, imagining the list of things he’d both dreamed and would trade his soul to be able to do to you before he realized you were waiting for an answer. “Shortcake, I treasure our friendship but there are some things my fading sanity can’t take.”

You quirked a brow and Eddie had to fight not to visible react to your pout. He often wondered how it’d feel if he bit down on it. “Eddie?”

“Sorry, what?” He shook his head, returning back to the present.

“I said, and the mall would zap the last bit of sanity you had?”

Eddie nodded emphatically. “I’m not that strong.”

“Well, despite your complete betrayal,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “Nancy said she’d go with me and helped me find a dress. I just wanted to see if you’d come with.”

“A dress?” Eddie asked. “You going somewhere fancy?”

Laughing, you shot him an incredulous look. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah, where are you going?”

“Prom, Eddie,” you said with a weird look on your face, “aren’t you going?”

At that, Eddie snorted. “Me? At prom?”

“I mean, I’ll be there – so will Robin and Nancy. Gareth and Jeff told me they’re going too,” you mumbled.

“I – do you want me to go?” Eddie asked, confused. “I can drop you off and pick you up if you want. My chariot is your chariot.”

Something flashed across your face but it was gone before Eddie could decipher it.

“Oh, no, thanks. I think Robin’s getting a ride from Harrington and they’ll give me a lift,” you said.

Eddie hated how well you and Steve got along. He shouldn’t have been surprised, considering he ran in the circle you did, but when he introduced you to his friends, he hadn’t expected how quickly you bonded. It’d taken him four and half months to hurl himself out of the acquaintance zone and Steve did it in five minutes.

“Sure,” Eddie said, going back to sewing a new patch onto his vest and trying not to stab himself.

“Would you go if I asked?” You said after a beat of silence.

He was almost sure he’d snapped something important in his neck with the speed in which he turned to you. At his expression, you straightened. “I mean, like would you go to prom and hang out with us? You don’t need to go with me.”

Deflating, Eddie tried not to let it show. Of course, you hadn’t asked him to go with you. You probably had a date or at the very least someone interested. Even then, he didn’t want to lie to you.

“Yeah, shortcake, I’d go if you asked me to.”

The smile on your face was small and grew gradually into something blinding. His heart flipped, the butterflies yawned awake, and Eddie sighed. He was pathetic.

Eddie knew his strengths and weaknesses. Thanks to Wayne, he was pretty decent at fixing cars. He knew more about music than most people he’d come across. And when it came to guitar? He wasn’t humble enough to deny how good he was. However, he was blatantly aware that math and science were subjects from the depth of hell. His driving had been criticized once or twice, and, he wasn’t that great at sounding particularly eloquent.

He'd never been more aware of that than in this exact moment. Eddie was leaning against Steve’s car. His red BMW was recently cleaned and Steve was hanging out the driver’s window, telling him about his most recent date. The tie around his neck felt like it was choking him but he wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t due to the anticipation.

Wheeler and Byers stood by their car, fumbling with her corsage and his tie. Robin’s front door opened and she came bounding out, her suit a bright blue that fit her perfectly. Her hair had been curled and she only seemed to wobble once on her heels as she made her way to the car.

“Man, if I don’t break my ankle before the end of the night,” she muttered, leaning on Eddie for support. He helped her catch her balance and smiled when she flushed at the compliments from everyone.

“You look good Buckley,” he told her, nudging her with his elbow.

Robin beamed. “You clean up well too,” she said, pulling at the suit he’d borrowed from Wayne. It was a little too big but Nancy had assured him no one would be able to tell. “I see you couldn’t resist,” she said bumping his converse with her pointy heel. “Why do you get to wear comfy shoes? She wouldn’t let me go in mine!”

“Because it ruins the look, Rob!” Your voice said from the front steps. Eddie glanced up and immediately felt the world freeze. Your dress was…molded onto your body. It was a long, lavender, flowy thing. It dipped low in the back and Eddie sighed. If the neckline was enough to give him a stroke, the back was going to have him flatlining. Your heels clicked against the stone as you hugged Robin’s parents goodbye.

“For fuck’s sake,” Eddie said under his breath, “that’s just not fair.”

Robin and Harrington, clearly heard him, snorted. “Careful there Munson, you’ll drop too much of a hint of how deeply in love with her you are if you keep that up.”

Eddie’s jaw snapped and he turned to glare at Robin. “What?” She said after Harrington snorted. “It’s true. They’re idiots.”

“Let them figure it out themselves,” Steve said. “We promised.”

“It’s infuriating,” Robin said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re both infuriating.”

“Alright, I’m all set,” you said, leaning forward to squeeze Steve’s hand. “Thanks for the ride, Steve.”

“No problem, you wanna ride with me or Byers?” Steve asked, settling into the seat.

Turning to him, he saw the question in your eyes and he cleared his throat. “Uh, wherever you want to,” he croaked.

Robin snickered and headed towards the passenger seat. Eddie shot her a glare but was interrupted by your hand on his arm. “You look great,” you said quietly as you waved to Jonathan. They honked at you as they took off down the street. “Thank you for coming.”

“For you? Anything,” he said, his tone a little too sincere than what he meant it to be. The blinding smile on your face after though, made it worth it. “You look…incredible,” he finished lamely. He heard hushed laughter from the car and fought the urge to scratch the back of his neck.

“Thanks,” you said, picking up the bottom of your dress in one hand. “I was worried I’d look dumb but Nancy was adamant this was my dress.”

Eddie needed to get Wheeler a gift. “Remind me to thank her because, shortcake?” You glanced up at him. “That dress was made for you.”

With a shy and pleased smile, you slid into the backseat and settled close to Eddie. Holy shit, you smelled amazing. Eddie barely managed to keep from dropping his nose to the crook of your neck. He slowly dropped his arm over your shoulders and grinned when you leaned into him.

Grabbing a parking spot near the entrance, Steve pulled into the school. Hopping out, he offered his arm to Robin who took it gladly.

“Are you guys ready for the last night of your high school career?” Steve asked, eyes on the doors.

“Yeah,” Robin said, “fuck this place.”

Eddie bumped her fist and you grinned. “After party at your house, Harrington?” You asked.

He knew you had to have been invited to a few afterparties – Robin had promised to make an appearance at the house of some kid from band. He’d heard you tell Nancy that you’d be going with Robin. Steve had assured him that they’d tag along too.

“More like the after after party when you two are drunk off shitty vodka,” Steve said motioning to Robin, who rolled her eyes and made a silly face.

“It happens one time…”

Nancy waved a hand in the air before disappearing through the doors. “Come on!” She shouted over her shoulder. You huffed a laugh and linked your arm through his.

“Ready?”

“Not really, but I’ll follow you into hell apparently.”

“You say the sweetest things,” you told him, deadpan. He snorted, other hand coming to squeeze the one you were resting on his forearm.

Eddie immediately squinted in the cloak of darkness that was the gym – he had to give it to the committee, he hardly recognized the place. A ridiculous pop song came on just as you waved to a few of your friends. “Look, Nancy found a table. Want to drop off our stuff and dance?” You asked the group. Robin nodded, already making her way towards the table and Eddie had to admit he felt a little out of place.

The itch under his skin yelled at him to run but the happy smile on your face when you patted the empty seat next to you kept him tethered to you – because how could it not? Eddie was sure you could ask for the disco ball and he’d risk his diploma to get it for you. 

“Drinks?” Eddie asked, overwhelmed by the five nodding heads. Byers, with a small smile, got up and offered his help.

While Eddie had grown, no matter how reluctantly, close to Robin and her sidekick Harrington. Jonathan had only recently become a new addition. His family had just moved back and he seemed too quiet to really like the chaos that Eddie knew he tended to attract. His kid brother however, Will, was one of his favorites. Not that he’d ever tell Dustin that. The kid had a jealousy streak a mile long.

They had both just settled into their seats, everyone with a drink in hand, when another pop mess song came on. Robin and you straightened, eyes going to each other before you scrambled to your feet. “I’ll be right back,” you said, dropping a kiss to his cheek that had him stunned for a moment. Robin grabbed your hand and you both ran towards the dance floor.

“It’s their favorite song,” Steve explained, watching them wave over a reluctant Nancy. You both bounced around, heads shaking, and zero care that a few people were shooting you looks. “You gonna ask her to dance tonight?”

Eddie shot Steve a look and hated that Steve felt comfortable enough now to ignore him.

“Don’t give me that look man,” Steve laughed, “you came together! You can’t not ask her to dance.”

“We didn’t come together,” Eddie muttered, taking a sip of the disgustingly sweet punch, “she made that pretty clear.”

“Or you heard what you wanted to,” Nancy said, finally standing with Jonathan’s and in hers. “Because from what I know, she thinks you’re here together.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie shouted at Nancy’s retreating back. He turned to Steve, who looked like he was hiding a laugh, “What the hell does that mean?”

“That you both have your heads stuck in the grass,” Steve sighed. “I promised Dustin that I’d let you two figure this shit out on your own but I’m giving you a needed shove. Come on Munson, we’re going to dance.”

He opened his mouth to protest but Steve put a hand under his arm and all but shoved him in your direction. Robin cheered when she saw him, her head bobbling wildly. You beamed, hands coming up to his and twirling prettily around him. His eyes were drawn to you like magnets, he couldn’t help it. You danced with abandon, graceful but chaotically at the same time. Eddie shouldn’t have been surprised but, he really wasn’t sure how much more in love with you he could get.

“I’m thirsty!” Robin shouted, pointing back to the table. Steve let her take his hand and dragged him off towards the sides.

You turned to Eddie, smile wide, and he watched it falter when the faintly familiar pop song turned slow. His feet froze and he glanced towards Wheeler – finding her arms around Jonathan’s as they swayed slowly. She widened her eyes and looked pointedly towards you.

Alright, he could take a hint. He wasn’t that stupid.

With a flourish, he bowed deeply and outstretched his hand. “Can I have this dance milady?”

Your laugh was muffled by the music but the electricity across his skin crackled as you took his warm hand with your cool one. How were you always so cold? He pulled your hands between his and tried to let some of his heat sink in. You grinned up at him, eyes soft, and he placed his own at your waist. “Okay?” He asked.

“More than,” you said, leaning your head onto his chest. He was worried you’d hear how fast his heart was racing but by the small, happy, sigh you let out – he didn’t think you’d mind.

“If you would’ve told me last year that I’d end up graduating this year, with a grade higher than a C, and that I’d be at prom with you – I would’ve laughed,” Eddie said.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Am I that bad of a date?”

Date? Holy shit, was Wheeler being honest?

“Shortcake, you’re the best date. I just didn’t think you’d want to hang out with the likes of me,” he clarified, “I’m either invisible or a cult leader. Take your pick.” He tried to play it off as a joke but he knew you’d hear it.

“I’ve always noticed you, Eddie. You’re not invisible to me,” you said quietly, your big eyes looking up at him beneath your lashes. Jesus Christ, how much more of this could he take? For once, you seemed to share his sentiment because you took a step back, out of his arms and excused yourself. He watched you dart across the gym, grab a bewildered Robin, and pulled her into a solitary corner.

Mystified, Eddie walked back to the table and Steve raised one of his brows. “What’s happening? We’ve only been here for like an hour.”

“I have no idea,” Eddie admitted. He started to worry when he saw your purple nails from the distance flailing left and right as Robin’s hands came down on your shoulders. She said something that clearly stunned you. After a beat both of you turned towards him and he darted his eyes away to act like he wasn’t being nosey.

“Uh, that doesn’t look good,” Steve muttered. Eddie glanced back up and watched as you made your way quickly over to him. A determined expression was etched onto your face and Robin followed at a slower pace, a smug look on hers.

Without a word, you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the hallway when a teacher had their back turned. “Uh, shortcake?”

“Shh!” You admonished, still leading him down the hall. You don’t stop until you find an empty classroom, the lights were on and door unlocked but it was clearly deserted.

He watched your chest rise and fall quickly, like you’d run a mile, and before Eddie could ask you what was wrong – you all but chucked an envelope at him. He’d almost ducked instinctively but he managed to catch it in his hands. Where the hell had that even come from?

“What’s happening right now?” He asked, holding the envelope in his right hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Open it,” you said, your fingers went up to tug at a lock of your hair – a telltale sign that you were nervous.

“Sweetheart-”

“Eddie, open the envelope,” you stressed.

With a wary glance towards you, Eddie flipped the hastily taped tab and slid out a pair of tickets.

IRON MAIDEN, JULY 1ST INDIANNAPOLIS, IN.

“Holy shit, are these floor tickets?” He squawked, hands shaking. You had Iron Maiden tickets! How the hell had you managed that? “Shortcake, where did you get these? I thought they were all sold out.”

“My dad knows someone,” you said waving a hand like it wasn’t important. Like you hadn’t just handed him a priceless gift. “I got VIP passes too.”

Eddie’s soul was gone. That’s it, it was back up on the moon, throwing a party.

“It’s not my birthday, you know,” he said, barely containing his excitement. He rocked back and forth on his heels. Holy shit, he was going to see Iron Maiden! With you!

“I know,” you said, biting your bottom lip. Eddie’s soul slammed back into his body and he realized you were wringing your hands again.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“These are for us,” you said, pointing at the tickets.

“I assumed so,” he joked.

You closed your eyes, shoulders tense. “No, like… a date.”

Eddie snorted and immediately regretted it when he saw your head duck down. Shit, you’d been serious? You couldn’t have been serious. He knew Steve and Robin gave you both shit for it these past few months but there was no way in hell that you’d ever want to go on a date with him. He would’ve noticed. He absolutely would’ve noticed the signs.

“Oh,” you said, you voice incredibly sad, and Eddie wanted to slap himself. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed.

Eddie scrambled forward; tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “No, wait – I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, words jumbling together. “I didn’t realize you were serious. I thought – I thought you were joking.”

You winced. “I get it. I’m not…your type, we’re friends, it’s fine. You can take both tickets and take one of the guys.” The expression on your face was enough to make him want to face plant. You turned on your heel and walked to the door.

Eddie’s heart dropped to his feet and he lurched forward, hands reaching for you. “Wait, wait, that’s not what – please. Shortcake, let me speak. I just need a moment to process.” You tried to wrestle your wrist out his grip but Eddie clung on for his life. You were not just going to turn and run after dropping a bomb like that on him.

“It’s fine, Eddie. I promise I’m not – I’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t even know you liked me!” You shot him a contemptuous look and he refused to cower back. You were scary when cornered but he knew you had a soft, gooey center. Whatever he said now was important. He had to get this right.

“Sweetheart. Look at me,” he said, pulling you away from the door. “I swear, I didn’t think you felt like that towards me.”

Your hardened look softened a little when he ducked down to catch your gaze. Blinking, you frowned a little and straightened. “You’re not joking?”

“I have never in my life been more serious,” he huffed, “and I really mean that.”

Exploding, you waved your animated hands in the air and Eddie jerked back to avoid being smacked by one. “How the hell did you not notice? Everyone noticed! Even the cheer squad knew. I asked you to go with me to prom!”

“What?” Eddie’s voice cracked. “You said not with you – to hang out or something!”

“Yeah, I only said that after you looked like I had smacked you over the head!”

Eddie groaned. “Because I didn’t think you’d ever want to go with me!”

You crossed your arms and rubbed one of your temples. “It’s against school policy to tutor a student for longer than a month or two. It’s not fair to the program so we swap consistently. It’s a way to make sure everyone gets the coverage they need from the different tutors. Didn’t you question why we went from meeting at the school to the public library?”

“Uh, no?”

“Well,” you huffed, looking a little embarrassed, “I liked you from like the first session. You, obviously, looked more interested in watching paint dry so I thought I could win you over. After the month I told Ms. O’Donnell that you just needed some guidance and I’d sign off on your paperwork. I told you that we needed to start meeting at the public library instead.”

“But, what about Nick?” Eddie was so confused. Had he entered an alternate dimension again? He glanced around for any sight of the dust. “You had a boyfriend up until like three months ago!”

“Because I thought it would make you jealous!” You huffed, exasperated.

What.

“Well, it did!” Eddie shouted back, the words falling before he could stop them. “I wanted to punch his goddamn face in.”

You blinked. “But…you didn’t seem all that eager to be my friend. You barely asked me about my weekend plans. I couldn’t have dropped more hints!”

“Shortcake, you’re not only out of my league – you’re in a different dimension. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

“Well, you didn’t!”

“Great!”

“Perfect!”

“Amazing.”

“Stupendous.”

“Are you going to keep trying to have the last word?” Eddie snorted.

You rolled your eyes but he saw your hands reach up for your hair. “I know I don’t dress like those girls at the hideout and wear too much yellow and pink and you think I’m popular and that my taste in music is overrated – which really proves my point that you’re pretentious – but –”

Eddie barely heard a word you were saying, his eyes watched your hands dance in the air, and your eyes dimming the more you spoke. How the fuck could you have ever believed that he wouldn’t like you? You still believed that, his mind supplied helpfully, anxiety evident in the rigid set of your shoulders. He knew from experience that if he let you keep going, you’d go on for hours. So, he grabbed your arms and pulled you into his chest. Startled, you stumbled and glared up at him.

“Shortcake?”

“What?”

“Please stop talking,” he said and dropped his lips to yours. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms the best you could around his neck and pressed your body against his. Your cool fingers tangled themselves in his hair and he shuddered when your nails dragged along his scalp. Eddie, finally, bit down on your bottom lip and the low groan you let out shot straight to his dick.

Shit, even after imagining this moment for months – it really couldn’t compare. You tasted like punch, strawberries, and faintly of candy. He pulled back for air, your breath coming out in quick huffs. Eddie smiled, his heart racing at the sight of your dazed look. He did that. You liked him. He’d shared his life with you and you still liked him. Did shit like this really happen?

“So, you want to go to the concert with me?” You asked lightly, smile twisting your mouth.

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. “I want to go everywhere with you, shortcake.”

“Everywhere is good, I like everywhere,” you babbled, “...well, Steve’s house has a lot of rooms. Maybe everywhere can include that at the end of the night?”

Shutting his eyes, he valiantly tried to exercise self-control and not imagine you naked on a bed squirming beneath him. Failing, just a little, he nodded enthusiastically. “Should we go right now? Because I’ll grab Steve if we need to.”

You laughed, the sound warming him even further. “We still need to go with Robin to that afterparty.”

Eddie let his head loll as he groaned. “Conformity is so much work.”

“I’m sure you’ll be okay,” you teased, kissing him again. “Come on, someone’s going to catch us if we stay away too long.” Honestly, Eddie was willing to risk it but he knew you didn’t want to miss this.  

As you both crept back towards the gym, your hand tucked in his, Eddie wondered if he was dreaming. He passed one of the wide windows in the hallway, the gym only a few yards away, and he pulled you to a stop.

“What?” You asked, peeking out through it.

Eddie ducked to look out the glass and caught sight of the dark sky and the full moon. He winked and pointed up at it. “You had me going there for a while, but this makes up for it. We’re even!”

“Who are you talking to?” You asked, glancing around.

“The moon. Or God. Maybe the universe?”

You nodded. “Okay,” you said, shrugging like it was completely normal.

Jesus Christ, he loved you.

The familiar chords of Kiss floated out of the open doors to the gym and Eddie perked up. “Is that…”

Tonight, I want to give it all to you

In the darkness, there's so much I want to do

“Kiss?” You asked, grinning. “Yeah, I promised the DJ half a gram from you if he’d play a few songs you like.”

Yeah, he was gone for you. Totally gone. If he had any dignity or pride left, he’d be a little embarrassed but he really couldn’t work up the energy.

“Come on!” You said, tugging him back into the gym and onto the dance floor. A few jocks looked disgruntled at the change of music but Robin and Nancy were out on the dance floor, so were a few others. You immediately jumped around, eyes bright, hips swaying, and Eddie’s heart felt like it’d jump out his chest at any moment.

“And I can't get enough of you, baby. Can you get enough of me?” You sang, turning to wink at him. Steve and Robin waggled their eyebrows, shooting him knowing looks and he shook his head. Nancy laughed, offering up her fist and Eddie couldn’t help but bump it.

Alright universe, he thought, you win, you totally win. I owe you for the rest of my life.

Eddie wrapped an arm around your waist and beamed when you leaned into his touch. Your lips came up to his jaw and he sighed. Maybe the shit show that was the entirety of high school was worth it if you were waiting for him at the end.

I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN' YOU. eddie munson.

summary: the four times eddie knew he was a goner and the one time he told you.

warnings: no spoilers! don’t worry, you’re safe here. profanities. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed <3

word count: 5.1k

i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love mötley crüe. 

eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him. 

and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…

eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.

so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”

you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”

“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.” 

you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.

“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.

“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”

after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.

“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!

he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”

huh. 

you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it. 

you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.

he isn’t a bad sight to see. 

his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.

his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.

all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.

“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”

you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”

“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”

“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.

“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”

he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.

… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,

i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,

and like a supercharged rocket ride,

you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.

“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”

“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”

eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”

“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”

it came out as gibberish but the point came across. 

“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”

“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.

that was strike one for eddie munson.

ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.

you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.

and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”

“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.” 

eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it. 

“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.

motherfucker.

“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.

you should really start thinking twice.

said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.

“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.

“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”

“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”

you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.

“you bitch!” 

with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you. 

eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk. 

“holy shit…”

“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy. 

“twenty.” he blinks.

you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”

eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.

“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.

and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around. 

and the rest was history.

that was strike two for eddie munson.

iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.

“is this… MADONNA?”

eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.

he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady. 

dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”

eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”

it was his. you left it for him.

dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.

you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.

you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.

just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too. 

if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.

“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.

eddie slaps his hands away from his face.

aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.

 “did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.

he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”

“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”

eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”

you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”

you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.

you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.

that was strike three for eddie munson.

iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.

“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”

as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”

you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”

“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”

“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”

“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”

“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”

“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”

“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”

“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”

you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”

“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.

“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.

“and twice,” you agree. 

as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.

you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.

mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.

the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.

his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.

“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”

“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”

“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”

you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”

eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.

“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”

“no! i shan’t yield!”

giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.

you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.

you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain. 

a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second. 

“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.

“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.

eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”

he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”

“idiot.” you snort.

eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van. 

a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van. 

“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”

you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.

he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”

“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”

adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”

he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.

the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.

his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.

should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?

the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.

“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”

“yeah.”

eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?

that was strike four for eddie munson. 

but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.

v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.

“harrington? fucking harrington?”

“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.

“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.

“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”

he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”

you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”

“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”

“and robin.”

“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.

“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”

“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.

“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”

“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”

you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”

eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair. 

“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”

“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.

you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”

“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.

“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine. 

“that’s mine!”

“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”

“you paid for those with my money.”

eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”

“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”

“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”

the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”

“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”

he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”

eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that. 

you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.

“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”

although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”

“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.

he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”

you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”

eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.

“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”

“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.

eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”

he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again. 

his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.

with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.

“are you sure?” you hesitate.

“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners. 

and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.

“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”

eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”

you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”

and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.

robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up. 

“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”

you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”

eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”

you shrug.

he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.

“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically. 

eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”

“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you. 

“i have no idea.”

some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.

“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”

“frozen waffles?” robin questions.

“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna –  that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”

you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love. 

“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”

you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie. 

he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”

“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.

your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.

“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.

you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”

“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”

“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.

“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.

“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”

that was strike ??? for you and eddie.

“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”

“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”

“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”

“... how about the bumper cars?”

“deal.”

ouroboros

MY MASTERLIST

pairing(s): eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Look, you're only helping him out because your friends have taken pity on him. It's totally not because of his stupid, pretty face and how much you want to kiss it. Totally.

words: 8.1k

tags: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI), smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, mild choking, dom!eddie, smoking, drinking, reader is in college and eddie's age, overuse of the word fuck, i googled motorhomes circa 1984 for this fuckin thing, slight canon divergence ig, also slightly inspired by touch tank by quinnie

additional notes: i am AWARE he doesn't have an ouroboros ring don't look at me. it's about the symbolism

taglist blog: @rosemareblogs

“All right, Munson, it’s me. Don’t fuckin’ attack me with a broken bottle, kapeesh?”

The line is dead for a long moment, and then Eddie Munson’s staticky voice crackles through the speaker of your walkie. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes and clap the antenna down with a small sigh, then cut the engine to your far-too-conspicuous Pontiac. You suppose that the only thing working in your favor is that Reefer Rick’s lake house is surrounded by overgrown foliage that you can tuck the car back into, away from the road. 

As the eldest of the Hawkins crew, you’ve taken on the job of “Eddie duty,” as Steve calls it. As if he could be bothered to leave the Wheelers’ basement to run errands instead. There had been a long discussion, wherein your entire group insisted that you were the choice candidate because you’re old enough to pick up a six pack of beer on a moment’s notice. Plus, you aren’t directly linked to Eddie in any way, so it’s a win-win. You look after Munson, and everyone else works on hunting up this “Vecna” creature that you can’t exactly wrap your head around.

Honestly, you could offer to have Eddie stay at your place for a while. You would, except you really don’t love the idea of being arrested. But the more trips you make out here, the more that seems to be becoming a moot point.

Carrying a paper grocery bag in one hand and a six pack in the other, you trudge up the front porch steps and find the door to the house already unlocked for you. There’s a musty cloud of stale air that hits you as you pass through the threshold, and then your eyes find Eddie’s dark head of hair leaning halfway out the kitchen window. 

“What… are you doing?” You ask as the screen door swings shut behind you. 

Eddie pivots his torso, looking down his nose and smiling brightly at you as he continues fiddling with something on the window frame. He has a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, which bounces up and down as he mutters, “Window’s jammed. Don’t wanna leave it like that, someone could break in.”

“The door was fully unlocked,” you grumble at him as you plop the grocery bag on the counter and rip a beer out of the six pack to crack it open.

“But that’s ‘cause I knew you were coming.” There’s a snap, and the window slides noisily shut as Eddie blows out a cloud of smoke. “Hey- who wrote ‘Breakfast At Tiffany’s?’” 

“Truman Capote, why?” 

“I finished Rick’s crossword, I just needed 24 across.” He sidles up beside you, grabs a pencil from the kitchen table and scrawls ‘Capote’ in the only empty space on the newspaper’s crossword of the day. 

“You’ve been sitting here doing crossword puzzles for the last two days?” 

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, I mean. High intelligence, low charisma and all.” 

“What?”

“It’s, uh… D&D stats? Dungeons and- you know what, never mind. Point is, I’m no good for anything else at the moment.” Your senses are assaulted by cheap beer and tobacco as you take a sip from your can, and then hold it out to Eddie. He takes it appreciatively, with a quiet nod at you as he trades you his half-smoked cigarette for the can. 

You avert your eyes almost bashfully as you grab the cigarette with your mouth rather than your hands, which are pulling cans of Campbell’s soup out of the grocery bag. Your lips brush the tips of his fingers before you straighten up, and Eddie clears his throat and turns away from you to lean against the counter. You both regress into an awkward, pregnant silence. 

You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been on shift with Robin and Steve when Dustin Henderson came running in and turned the video store into his personal manhunt headquarters. It was the worst case of right place, wrong time. You don’t know what you’re doing at any given moment, but you can say with absolute certainty that Eddie isn’t a killer. And with everything going on, the only moments in the last week that have made any sense to you at all are when you’ve been alone in this dusty ass house with Munson, sharing a beer or a cigarette or both before you have to leave him to his devices again. You find it comforting that he seems just as clueless as you are, and there’s no other expectations that you put onto each other besides that mutual confusion. 

Plus, you’ll admit it: you find him intriguing. Interesting. Eddie was supposed to graduate the same year as you, but while you moved on, got a job and spent a few semesters at community college, he stayed at Hawkins High. You hadn’t paid much attention to him while you were going to school together, but you’d had an idea of him in your head. You figured he would be your stereotypical, cookie-cutter metalhead with a chip on his shoulder. 

You couldn’t have been more wrong about that, it seems. 

“Oh, um, I got you some fancy ass chocolates,” you say, breaking the silence so suddenly that he almost flinches. You pull a gold foiled box out of the paper bag, setting it on the tile counter beside him. “Just figured, y’know. It’s good for morale or whatever.”

Eddie stares down at the box of chocolates like it might explode. He drums his fingers anxiously on the side of his beer before his brown eyes flick up to yours. “You’re serious?”

“Um… yes? They’re just,” you shrug, looking for the right words to offer him, as he’s looking a bit overwhelmed and you aren’t really sure why. “I mean, they’re my favorites. They’ve got this caramel center that isn’t, like, super sweet, so you can eat a bunch and not feel sick to your stomach. I dunno, I just thought maybe it would be good for you to have a little variety. Or something.”

Eddie stares at you for a long time. Then he says, “Were they, uh… expensive?”

“What?” Your eyes widen, and your face feels suddenly hot. They were expensive, as far as candy goes, but you figured it was a luxury he could probably use right about now. But he looks so hesitant to even touch them, almost like he’s horrified that you might have dared to spend more than the bare minimum on him. Which, fuck that. Absolutely fuck that. So, you correct yourself quickly, and you lie, “No, they’re normal priced. I guess. It doesn’t matter.”

It still takes a moment for him to nod, but he still doesn’t move to touch the box. “Thank you.”

You blink down at the paper bag, and figure it would be best to change the subject. “I also got some TV dinners in case you were maybe getting sick of soup. And, uh… I picked up a deck of cards. In case you were getting bored.”

“Because that’s the most important thing on everyone’s mind right now. Whether I’m bored,” Eddie says with a smirk, but takes the unopened deck from you and sets his beer can down, regardless. You see him fiddling with something out of the corner of your eye as you shove the frozen dinners into the freezer, and when you turn back to him, he’s holding a silver ring out to you. 

“What is it?” You ask him with a short laugh, taking the ring from him.

“An Ouroboros. A snake swallowing its own tail. It’s, uh… a symbol of eternal life.” He shrugs one shoulder, and then nods slightly toward the box on the counter. Your eyes follow the curve of his lips as he smiles. “For the chocolates.”

“I told you it’s not a big deal,” you argue, trying to hand him back the ring.

“The ring isn’t a big deal either. It’s cheap metal, I got it for a buck and a quarter from a guy downtown.”

You can’t think of anything to say to that. If it’s really not that big a deal, you shouldn’t treat it as such; but something about him giving you one of his rings in exchange for a box of chocolates is a bit formal. And despite what he says, the ring is a bit heavier than you’d expect from ‘cheap metal.’

Eddie laughs and reaches forward, but instead of taking the ring from you, he plucks the still burning cigarette from the fingers of your other hand. “Do I look like I’d bullshit you about that?”

“Dunno. I’m learning not to judge a book by its cover.” 

His stare lingers on yours for a long time, while he kind of curls inwards on himself as he takes a drag of your shared cigarette. If you were any kind of romantic, you would probably think that now is a good time to smack the cigarette out of his hand and kiss him, or something equally idiotic. Maybe hyperfocus on the fact that you’ve shared that cigarette multiple times, so you most definitely have him in your mouth already. That his lips are ridiculously pink, and look so lush and stupidly kissable. And if you were to kiss him, he’d probably taste just the same as you. Familiar. Desperate. 

But, you’re not. A romantic, that is. You don’t even really like him- of course not, you barely know him. You just… really like his hair. And his neck. And his hands, and fingers, and the way he holds himself, and how you’d really love to see the look in his eyes if you pushed him against the counter and took his cock in your mouth-

You don’t have the time or the energy for wishful thinking, so you let it drop, and you put the ring into your jacket pocket. “Just let me know when you want it back, yeah?”

“Sure. Just as soon as I figure out how to play ‘go fish’ by myself,” he snorts playfully, shaking his unopened deck of cards at you, but his eyes flicker down at your empty hand for half a second. Then, his tone gains a note of seriousness when he adds, “Hey, thanks. For everything. Really.”

“No problem, babe,” you chirp. You clap him on the shoulder, trying to pass off the gesture as just you being friendly, but you nearly stutter when you add, “Who the hell else am I gonna share half a beer with, y’know?”

Eddie nods with a small smile, but you can tell that there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he’s refusing to voice. When you leave the house, you feel a bit like you’re running away from a bomb about to detonate.

You don’t sleep anymore.

Well, you haven’t slept soundly in about a week. It’s getting more and more like you’re scared to, for fear of getting Vecna’d, or… or whatever the hell the kids are calling it now. You like to think you’ve mastered the art of staying awake, staring at the Aerosmith poster across from your bed and trying not to nod off. 

Maybe it’s a bad idea to deprive yourself of sleep, but until you know that everything’s okay and there isn’t a man-hungry, Freddie Kreuger-ass monster lurking around in the dark ready to crush your bones, you’d rather play it safe. It would be easier if you had someone to stay with you, but your only compatriots are all crashing in the Wheeler’s basement, or in a dilapidated house on the edge of town. You’re on your own. 

Or so you thought.

“Guys? Dustin? Wheeler? Code red, I repeat- ah shit- CODE RED-” 

You nearly jump out of your skin, scrambling up and out of bed to grab the walkie that you’d plunked down on the dresser top when you got home. You frantically tug the antenna up as Eddie continues babbling through the line.

“Eddie? What’s happened?”

“Oh thank Christ, it’s you,” he says, and his relief is apparent in his voice. “We’ve got a problem- A bunch of fuckin’ basketball players are here, they’re in the house, I think they’re looking for me-” 

Your foot catches on your messed up bedsheet as you stumble to grab a pair of flannel pajama pants. Hopping on one foot to pull them on, balancing the walkie in your other hand, you interject, “Okay, where are you?”

“In the boat.” 

“The boat?” 

“The boat, the fuckin’- the boathouse, man, the shed! I’m in the shed!”  

“All right, I’m on my way. Keep the walkie on you, talk to me if anything happens, okay?” You set the walkie down on your kitchen counter to finish pulling on your pants and grab a denim jacket off your footboard. 

“How the fuck did they find me?” 

“I don’t know.”

“What am I supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know, Eddie, just-” you trip down your doorstep to your car, fumbling with your keys. “Just try to relax. Is there some place nearby that you can safely go? Can you get to makeout point?”

“I’d have to go uphill.” 

“Can you get there?” You tear out onto the road, pushing 90 as you turn onto a back road and head toward the lake. 

“Yeah, I can- I can try.” 

“Meet me there. Go, now.”

The line goes dead for a solid ten minutes, and in that time you’re trying not to panic. Periodically banging the flat of your palm against the steering wheel, punching the accelerator as hard as it can take the heap of metal uphill toward makeout point. You tear past Reefer Rick’s house to see lights on in the windows, and what looks like Jason Carver’s car pulled up next to the porch, but you have no genuine ability to focus on anything other than getting to Eddie as soon as possible. 

Makeout point takes the form of a gap in the trees right in front of a scenic highway pullout. You jerk the car over onto the shoulder of the road and hit the brakes, lifting the walkie off the dashboard. 

“I’m here, Eddie, do you copy?”

Silence. You sit in it for a minute, heartbeat thudding in your chest and knee bouncing beneath the steering wheel. You start worrying that you might have to get out and hunt for him. You try to take stock of what all you have in the trunk to defend yourself, if Hawkins’ very own basketball playing cult-leader-in-the-making decides to try and attack you, too.

“Eddie, I swear to fucking god, if you’re dead I’m gonna kill you-” 

Eddie barrels out of the bushes towards the car, and fully dives headfirst through the passenger’s side window. 

“You couldn’t just open the fuckin’ door like a normal person?” you splutter, using one hand to try to steady him as he grunts and kicks his way into the front seat. 

“Nothing about this is normal- DRIVE!”  

You whip the car around, flying back down the hill towards town. You brake as you approach Reefer Rick’s, seeing a couple dark silhouettes loitering outside of the house. 

“Fuck, get down,” you hiss, yanking on the lapel of Eddie’s jacket. 

“What?”

“Get. Down.”  

Eddie grunts as he turns and face-plants directly into your lap, his nose digging into the meat of your thigh through your pajama pants. He gives a muffled whine of discomfort, shuffles around a bit, but relaxes once you place your hand solidly on the back of his head to keep him there. You don’t slow as you pass the house. You think you can make out Jason Carver’s blond head moving toward the boathouse, but you refuse to spend any time rubber-necking. 

“What the hell took you so long?” you ask as you release Eddie’s head. Your hand smooths over his tangled hair a bit as he pulls back from you.

He shoulders his way into a sitting position and reaches into his jacket to pull out a mangled golden package. “I knew you were lying when you said they weren’t expensive.”

“You went back for the fucking chocolates?” you wheeze, caught somewhere between absolutely livid and stupidly endeared to him. “You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“Yeah? Well, how do you think I felt?” He tries to adjust his legs on his side of the car, but his knees knock against the glove box, regardless. “I had to launch the fucking boat to get them off my ass. Good thing I fixed that window, I could just slide it open and grab the box off the counter before I ran-”

“You could have just left them,” you argue with a roll of your eyes.

“I didn’t even get to open it! I wasn’t gonna waste them.” He huffs an indignant sigh and remains quiet for a few seconds, before he inevitably asks, “So, what’s the plan? Where are we going?”

“Big Rock Park.”

“The campground?” Eddie scoffs, snapping the sun visor on the passenger’s side up and out of the way so he can see the road, for what it’s worth. “Why would we go there?”

“It’s where I live.”

“You live at the campground?” Eddie turns his head and stares at you incredulously. You shoot him an annoyed glance.

“First of all, it’s a fucking RV resort, I pay monthly rent. Second, it’s complicated.”

“Complicated? Fucking try me, I’ve got a group of jocks trying to hunt me down, the cops after me, a brain-sucking killer monster sonofabitch who crumpled Chrissy Cunningham up like a piece of paper in my goddamn living room-” Eddie’s voice comes out shrill as he ticks off his different points on his fingers, which you can see out of the corner of your eye are shaking with nerves. “Can’t get a whole lot more complicated than that!”

You sigh, refraining from rolling your eyes again and trying to determine the best way to describe your living situation. “Senior year I was saving up for a car, I ended up buying the family camper off my parents so that I could move out instead. I keep it at the RV park, it’s nice, there’s a water hookup and I don’t have my parents breathing down my neck 24/7.” You shrug, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel. “My cousin dumped this piece of shit on me last year so I didn’t have to drive my house around when I needed to get to class at the college. So, yeah. I live at the campground, sure.”

You can feel his eyes on you, heavy like a lead weight on your shoulder. You sit in silence for a few more seconds before you grit your teeth. “What is it?”

“I just… didn’t expect you to do that, y’know. I mean, I always knew you had balls-” He scoffs, and when you glance at him, his eyes are glued to the road ahead. “I remember when you told Jordan Byrd to eat shit in the middle of the cafeteria in junior year for dumping chocolate milk on your shoes, and that was the most trouble you ever got into.”

“That you knew about.”

He shoots you a deadpan look. “I just always thought you were so… straight laced. Never thought you’d rather live in a fucking camper than with your folks, I guess. I mean, I’d love to be able to do that for myself,” he mutters. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, and then gives you a half-hearted, sardonic smile. “Except now I actually have to somehow prove I’m not a murderer, or I’m gonna be arrested and then my life is over. So I guess that’s the last thing I should be worried about right now.”

“Fair enough,” you say as you finally pull into the RV park and cut the engine in front of your camper. “But maybe we should just focus on one thing at a time. Like getting you a shower. You smell like shit.”

He dramatically swoons before giving you a shit-eating grin. “Aw. Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you really like me-”

“Or I could just leave you in the car.”

“Right.” He throws open the door. “I forgot, you don’t have a sense of humor.”

Eddie Munson is in your shower. 

You sit on the floor of your motorhome, back to the built-in fridge and legs sprawled across the floor, feet nearly touching the front door. You can hear the water running in the sad excuse of a bathroom cubicle, and the sound of the spray dulling out occasionally with each move he makes under it. It’s making your skin crawl and the short hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He’s in your shower.   

Your discarded denim jacket hangs off the side of the bench that behaves as your sofa, just across from the booth that acts as your dining table. The gold foil package of overpriced chocolate that he stupidly risked his neck saving lays on the floor beside your hip. You're trying not to think of the fact that he’s naked on the other side of the door, in cramped quarters like this. The water on his naked skin, dripping down his torso and washing away the dirt and sweat from the last week. Him being forced to use the fruit-scented shampoo that you have, because up until this point it’s been only you. 

He’s in your shower. 

You rip your eyes from where they’ve gone a bit foggy, staring off into space at the open window above the microwave. You look down at your hands instead, in your lap, twirling the Ouroboros ring idly back and forth. It had fallen out of your jacket pocket when you took it off, and you didn’t have the heart to shove it away again. The snake is rather ornate, like it serves to prove a point. Even if it’s supposedly made of cheap metal, and it has no color other than its gleaming silver, it insists on standing out.

The sound of the water cuts out and only leaves the quiet noise of the local rock station playing Whitesnake on the transistor radio on your kitchen counter. You perk up a bit, your heart rate picking up speed as you hear a sort of wet rustling on the other side of the bathroom door, and then it pops open a crack. You see one of Eddie’s eyes, a flash of brown hair, and a white towel hung low on his hip. 

“Uh, do you have anything I can wear-?”

You snatch an extra pair of flannel pajama pants from the kitchen booth beside you and awkwardly try to jam it through the crack in the door. Eddie fumbles with it for a second before says a quick, “Thanks,” and all but slams the door shut. 

You try to collect yourself. Your face feels hot and you can almost feel your blood thrumming in your veins, and you go back to twirling the ring back and forth with more urgency this time. Fuck. Is this what it’s like to have a crush? It can’t be. You haven’t honestly had a crush on anyone since sophomore year, and it’s infuriating to think that Eddie Munson would be the one to call an end to your streak. 

Eddie pops his head out of the bathroom. “You don’t have any shirts, do you?”

“I don’t think any of mine would fit you, babe,” you mutter, pointedly not looking at his body. 

“Babe,” he echoes absently, like he’s trying to absorb the pet name. He hauls the wadded up pile of his previous outfit out of the bathroom and holds it up like it’s radioactive waste. “I got, uh… clothes.”

You blink, making eye contact with his knees. “Just toss them anywhere, I’ll do laundry tomorrow.”

Eddie tiptoes across your sprawled out legs and neatly tucks his pile of clothes into the kitchen booth before gracelessly plopping down onto the floor across from you. He lets out a long sigh, tilting his head back against the cabinet behind him and peering up through his lashes toward the ceiling. 

“We are so incredibly screwed, aren’t we?”

You turn your head towards him, and there isn’t a physical way that you can’t stare, now. Eddie’s hair is wiry and retains its curl when wet, long enough to hang down past his collarbone. His dark eyes are still pinned to the ceiling, but his head is tilted back, letting you get a good long look at his neck. His chest is riddled with small, discombobulated tattoos that range in style and color, like he just laid down on a table and told his friends to have a crack at doodling all over him. Which, if you’re honest, you could absolutely see him doing. 

You try to swallow down an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. The ring slips onto your thumb, and circles it with room to spare. “Maybe you are. I’m just the getaway driver, remember?”

His eyes find yours, but he doesn’t change the way his head is tilted, so he succeeds in looking down his nose at you and giving you a cheshire cat smile. “Aiding and abetting is a pretty serious crime, sweetheart. If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

You make an ugly snort-scoffing sound, swiping the box of chocolates up off the ground and roughly ripping it open. “Why do you insist on calling me that?”

“Why do you call me ‘babe?’”

“I- hhhh.” You grunt in irritation, digging a single chocolate out of the box and shoving it into your mouth while you try to think of an answer to that. “I call everyone ‘babe.’”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do!”

“You don’t call Harrington ‘babe,’” Eddie points out, a little smirk on his face as he takes the box of chocolates from you to dig one out for himself. “Or Nancy. I think you called Robin ‘honey’ once, but you were being sarcastic.”

“Well, maybe none of them get on my nerves like you do,” you snap. “Why are you paying so goddamn much attention to what I call people, anyways?

He dramatically clutches his hand to his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him. “I? Get on your nerves? Impossible. You’re the most patient person I’ve ever met. Why, if I had all the ability in the world, I’m sure I still couldn’t get under that skin,” he proclaims with an over exaggeratedly deep voice. Noticing you shaking your head at a pathetic attempt to argue without saying anything, he outright laughs. “Honestly! If I get on your nerves so much, then why are you the one who brings me shit? Why’d you go out of your way to get me these expensive chocolates- which are really fucking good, by the way- and then save my ass from almost certain death?”

“Not certain death,” you grumble down at the box.

“Certain death,” he insists. “Why? If I’m so incredibly infuriating to you?”

“Because the others didn’t want to, and I’m not heartless.” Your voice is snippy and hinting at your distress. There’s a harsh ache in your chest, and the more you stare at him, the more you want to reach out and grab him. 

“Mhm, and is that why you also stuck around to smoke with me every time?” Eddie asks with a sing-songy tone.

“No, I did that because I like-” Catching yourself about to admit something you can’t take back, you interrupt yourself with a swift breath, and accidentally inhale a bit of chocolate. It takes a few awkward seconds for you to clear your throat, and you try hard to act normal, but he just has this way of not blinking when he’s focused on something, and right now that something is you.

“‘Because you like’ what?” He nudges your knee with his once you stop coughing like an idiot. You lift your eyes to meet his, finding a softness in them that you aren’t used to. “Go on.”

“Because I like…” you trail off, your eyes falling to a tattoo on his shoulder, half hidden by his hair. You lose your train of thought, squinting at the mark. “Ouroboros.”

“What?”

You shuffle onto your knees, shoving yourself forward to get a closer look. “Your tattoo,” you say as you move his hair out of the way and touch the ink on his skin. It’s small, it’s no wonder you didn’t notice it immediately, but it’s very obviously an Ouroboros, a snake swallowing its own tail to match the ring on your thumb.

“Oh.” Eddie lets out a laugh that sounds a touch nervous. “Well- yeah. Eternal life and all. It’s my favorite.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and your hand falls to rest on his chest as you start examining each of his tattoos. There’s a rabbit, a winged skull, a spade; as your fingers trail down his chest, you feel his breathing getting a little bit faster. “I think it’s my favorite, too.”

He sits still for a moment, his dark eyes watching your fingers as they ghost across his skin, outlining each of his tattoos as you scrutinize them. He says your name, quietly; it’s barely even a whisper, but it comes from so deep in his chest that it emboldens you to continue, to shuffle in closer and let yourself explore him. It’s only when you reach one at the edge of his ribs that his hand catches your wrist, and his fingers completely circle it. 

“You’re wearing it,” he observes quietly, his thumb brushing to touch the loose-fitting Ouroboros swinging freely around your own. 

Your gaze snaps to his, and he’s staring at you now, not his hand on your wrist or your hand as it rests against the flat of his stomach. You think you could drown in the look that he’s giving you. 

“‘Because you like’ what?” Eddie asks. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

“I like you,” you say in a rushed exhale, and once it’s out in the air, the words keep flowing like you’ve opened the floodgates. “I like spending time with you. And your stupid, pretty face. And all your tattoos that I could spend hours memorizing. And the way you blow smoke into my face because you know I won’t say anything, and the way you drink the absolute worst brand of beer, and the way you make me want to kiss you speechless.”

He ghosts a finger across your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “So, what are you waiting for?”

Your mouth hovers over his. His breath hits your lips, and it occurs to you to move into his lap, to straddle him, but you don’t quite manage to get that far before his forefinger hooks under your chin, and he kisses you. 

Or, something like that. Rather, you sort of attack each others’ faces.

There’s something cathartic about it, and not worrying about it being good so much as it finally fucking happening, like you’ve just taken a sledgehammer to that last remaining wall between you. Eddie tastes like tobacco and chocolate and he makes a soft grunt into your mouth, and you don’t think it has to be perfect, because nothing about the situation or the two of you is. 

Your hands scramble up his chest for something to hold onto, to tug him closer or just keep him there against you. They settle around his neck, getting him in a loose-laced chokehold that makes him stiffen and moan into your mouth. His Adam's apple jumps against your thumb. It’s a good thing that you didn’t manage to crawl into his lap at the last second, because Eddie’s hands come up to cup your face, and he lays you down on the floor as you pant into his open mouth. 

His hands adjust the angle of your head, his tongue licking at yours, and it occurs to you that this is Munson- Eddie “the Freak” Munson- and you really shouldn’t like him, or the way he’s absolutely devouring your mouth. But you do. You like him so much, you could scream it. 

“Christ, you’re so fucking gorgeous- and I want to kiss you all over- and I could just fucking- eat you alive,” Eddie rambles at you, staggered between kisses that steal the breath from your lungs. 

Your legs open around his hips, and by some unconscious instinct you tug him further in. Your fingers dig at his shoulder blades until the bulge in his pajama pants presses up against the crux of your thighs. You didn’t realize that your distracted touch on his chest turned him on as much as it did, but you can feel your effect on him clear as day. A desperate whine leaves your throat as you slowly grind your hips up against his, letting the hard length of his cock drag over your clothed pussy. 

Eddie groans, a sharp and dangerous warning sound that echoes in his chest and vibrates on your lips. He breaks away from you with a whispered, “Goddamn it,” and then his teeth graze your neck. 

You hiccup as his tongue drags along the slope of your neck, and his teeth catch on the hem of your camisole at the same time your hands plant themselves on the back of his skull to keep him there. He makes a quiet mmph, but he doesn’t stop, his breath ghosting against your breast and his damp hair tickling your skin. 

Fuck. You don’t even know what you’re doing, just that he makes you nervous. And not in a bad way either, but more in a can’t-fucking-think way. Especially when he’s dragging his lips softly over the lace at the neckline of your top, and his eyes are focused on your face, and his hand is settling on your waistband so you know where he’s going with this.

And his mouth leaves you just long enough for him to yank the neckline of your camisole down, and you barely have time to register the cool air before your nipple is engulfed in heat. 

Air stalls in your chest, an animalistic noise coming out of your mouth as if you’ve become possessed. It takes every last bit of your mental ability to articulate, “I’m never gonna take the ring off, now.”

“Don’t.” Eddie’s voice has taken on the darkest tone you’ve ever heard, so much that you nearly swear it couldn’t come from him. Your hands tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ll give you every one of my rings if it means I can have you like this.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks, and lower, where your body is screaming for him to move his hand away from your hip and inwards. “Eddie, baby-”

“I want to taste you,” he murmurs, then presses a slow, sensual kiss to your exposed nipple. “Do you want me to?”

Hm. Do you want Eddie Munson to go down on you? The question pings around in your skull for a moment due to the absurdity of it, that he would even think to ask- 

“Y-yeah?”

Eddie breaks into the cheekiest grin you’ve seen him wear, one that lights up his entire face and makes his eyes shine like polished obsidian. And then he foregoes any formality, and positively rips your pants down your legs, taking your underwear with them. 

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp, jerking your legs to help him get them off. You expect a quip from him in return, something about not being shy, or  relaxing, but he doesn’t say anything else. He’s entirely focused on wedging himself between your legs and dipping his tongue through the soaked folds of your pussy. 

Eddie fucking moans . He moans, and you latch onto his hair with an iron grip that you didn’t even realize you had. The world tilts- or maybe it’s just your back arching off the ground and your eyes rolling backwards into your head. Either way, you can’t rip your focus from the gentle sucks and nips he’s giving you. 

His lithe body pushes further in towards you, until your legs are folded over his bare shoulders and you’re crowded up against the kitchenette. You can’t seem to take a fucking breath around all the hoarse cries coming out of your throat. It honestly sounds like you’re sobbing, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you lifted your hand to find tears forming in your eyes. 

Broad hands come up to caress your thighs, giving you almost comforting strokes as you roll your hips against his face. As if he could possibly get you to relax, unless he pulled his mouth away from you- which, you think if he did right now, you might kill him. You can feel how wet he has you already, and his tongue is no better. Slick and hot as fire, and making your toes curl against his back with every small circle he makes over your clit. 

And then. You make the mistake of opening your eyes. 

He’s all rosy cheeks on pale skin, dark hair and round eyes blown wide and black. Staring at you, reading your every microexpression from under his lashes as a flash of pink juts out of his mouth and eagerly laps at your cunt. 

It should be fucking illegal to be this pretty. Somehow, Eddie does it so effortlessly, and you could die trying to fight how it affects you. 

“Eddie, waitwaitwait- hoh fuck-” you gasp, fingers clawing at his head, as he takes his fucking time pulling away from you while you’re spiralling toward oblivion against his mouth. It takes a forceful push against his forehead to get him to pull back just slightly, and he’s out of breath by the time his head rests against your thigh. 

“You all right, sweetheart?” He murmurs from between your legs, and he nearly sounds more aroused than you do. 

You blink dazedly up at the ceiling for a few seconds before you collect your wits. “You were gonna make me come, and I just- I wanna fuck you so bad.”

You can practically hear the smirk on his face when he coos, “You wanna fuck me? Right here on the dirty floor?”

You take a second to think of a response to that. You could move back into the nook where your bed is, but why bother? “You were already halfway there.”

A low noise rumbles in his chest. “I can still finish what I started, if you want.”

The tip of his tongue traces a gentle, teasing line through your folds, enough to make you squirm and dig your heel into his back. “Eddie please-” you whine so pitifully, you’re not even sure the sound came from your own mouth, “god, I’m gonna come and- and I want you to feel it-”

Eddie hisses through his teeth like he’s in pain. “Fuck. God fucking damn it,” he swears, and his hands leave your thighs before you see him run one through his hair. “All right, sweetheart. You win. Dunno how the hell I’m ever gonna be able to say no to you.”

Eddie sits back on his knees, straightening up so that you can admire the entirety of his lean frame. He’s a bit on the willowy side, but he has soft areas where you know just from touching him that muscle lurks underneath. His thumbs hook on his waistband, then reaches within to lift his erection out, and his gaze settles heavily on yours. “Is this what you wanted?”

You blink at him. As if he needs to ask, when your entire body is shaking as you’re biting your lip, staring at him fisting his cock. “I… stop stalling and come. Here.” 

Slowly- too slowly for your liking- Eddie does what he’s told. You can’t help but feel like he’s being a little bit cocky now that he has the upper hand, biting down on his lip before they come level with your own. The huff of a laugh that he makes billows across your skin. “Needy.”

You whimper high in your throat as he presses in, feeling like you could tell him exactly how needy you are, how you have been for him this entire time. If only you could get the words out, but he sinks his cock into you so deep that you can’t think, you can barely even breathe. He stretches you so wide, makes you so full that you swear you can feel him in the back of your throat. 

It’s absolute heaven. 

Eddie grits his teeth, rocking his hips into yours just a bit sharper so that you fling your legs around his waist. “Been thinking about this,” he groans into your shoulder, while you’re naturally unable to answer him. “Thought about fucking you on Rick’s floor- I would have. God, I fucking wanted to. Didn’t think- fuck- didn’t think you’d go for it-”

“Eddie-!” Your voice is too shrill. Is that your voice? You can’t tell anymore, your ability to articulate anything other than his name feels like it's entirely left you. Your hands are tangled in his hair and clawing long marks along his shoulder blade, your lungs punching out hard and hollow gasps each time he reaches the end of you. 

You know that he can be gentle when he wants to be. You know. Which is why you know that he’s not trying to be gentle with you now, and you aren’t entirely sure if it’s a punishment or a reward for finally letting him do this to you. 

And, perhaps his cruelest trick of all- his hand comes up to clasp around your throat, as your head is tilted back against the hard floor. The metal of his rings dig into your skin, not enough to cause pain, but just to let you know they’re there. To remind you that one of them is missing. 

Eddie’s thumb presses into your mouth, until you can taste the salt of his sweat on your tongue. He spits out a curse when you mindlessly close your lips around it, letting your teeth scrape his skin as he drives his hips into yours. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, and his mouth is so close to your ear that you feel his breath fan against it. “That’s my good girl.”

Oh god, he really is a dream. It’s the only way you know that you’re still here, that Vecna hasn’t gotten to you yet. You couldn’t make this up, and you couldn’t imagine any nightmare where this takes place. 

Eddie lifts his head to look at you, and you know you’re done for. Sinful heat sinks low in your gut, ripe and pinpointed between your legs, and you clench desperately around him. He’s so pretty. So pretty, so pretty, so pretty. It plays on a loop in your head like a scratched record, until you’re almost certain he’s ransacked your brain and superimposed every one of your thoughts with it. 

“Oh, she’s gonna come, isn’t she?” He muses, a bit breathless. A smile stretches across his face, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Go on, sweetheart. You wanted me to feel it- let me.”

You sob brokenly, biting down on his intrusive thumb in your mouth as your orgasm splinters through you. It’s so good, so strong that it nearly hurts. Your hips jolt up to meet his on their own, entirely separated from where your mind is, in the clouds. 

You hear him swear again, this time more of a primal growl than an actual word, and he rips his thumb out of your mouth with a soft pop. You manage to whimper, before Eddie dips down to groan his own release into your open mouth, smothering you in a kiss as he comes. 

Eyes closed, your senses are almost entirely dampened to everything except the feeling of Eddie’s elbow buckling under him, and his body pressing in on top of you. You feel like you’re floating, despite his weight anchoring you down. His breath on your neck and his little mumbled praises that go in one ear and out the other as he rolls off to the left. 

It takes his hand on your face to finally rouse you from the stupor he put you in, and even then, you expend twice as much energy than normal trying to open your eyes to him. 

He lays beside you, head resting on the fake wood floor. Thumb stroking the side of your face, he smiles affectionately at you. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

You can’t really bring yourself to give him much more than a sleepy smile and a weak ‘mm.’ Your legs are tangled in his, the warm, wet mess of his spend seeping out from between your thighs. It feels dirty, and sort of fucked up, and yet…

This was always going to happen. Whether it happened here, or happened at Rick’s, or if sometime in the future it happens at his place. On the dirty floor, in the kitchen. Because that’s just the way you are with him.

“‘Low charisma’ my ass,” you manage to croak at him, your eyes sluggishly refusing to stay open. 

He blinks at you. You watch the wheels turn in his head, watch him connect the dots between your words and the ones he said to you two days ago. Then, he just looks… enamored. Like he didn’t expect you to have been listening to him, to remember whatever nerdy thing he’d mentioned off the cuff. 

Eddie tuts, his fingers soothing over your sticky, hot skin. “We have to get up, baby. Shouldn’t sleep on the floor.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” you repeat, slurring your words tiredly. “Haven’t been able to for a while… too scared…”

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have me.” Eddie pats your cheek softly, and the quiet timbre of his voice threatens to lull you further, rather than wake you. “C’mon. I tell really good bedtime stories.”

You whine grumpily as he pulls you up, clumsily maneuvering you past the bathroom stall and into the nook at the very back of the motor home that acts as your bedroom. “How the hell’d you get a whole fuckin’ bed in here?” he mutters in disbelief as he packs you into it. At some point you guess he decided he didn’t need the pajama pants anymore, and crawls in beside you entirely naked. 

“Eddie?” you ask, as you feel him tucking your rumpled sheets around you. “Can we do this, like, every night?”

“Depends. Do you want to wake up to me every morning?”

You blink your eyes open at him, so appalled that you almost entirely wake back up. He’s looking blankly back at you, like he doesn’t exactly grasp the weight of what he just said. 

“Eddie, I-” you stammer, looking for the fucking words to express how you feel about him. “I-I didn’t think I was even going to get this far. You have no idea how much I want to… fucking… I want to wake up to you every morning. Yeah. I do. Stupid fucking pretty face and all. Making me lose my mind. Bitch.”

Eddie snorts loudly, and pulls you close to him as he holds in his laughter, pressing a kiss between your eyes. “There’s my girl. I’ll stick around until you get sick of me, sweetheart. I promise.” He picks up your hand and laces your fingers together, letting the metal of his rings clack against the one around your thumb. 

You hum contentedly. “You better.”

“Now, shut up and close your eyes. I’m gonna tell you a story.” You begrudgingly do as he says, sighing as you melt into the warmth of his body. “‘In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat-’ Why are you laughing? What?”

You crack your eyes open, body shaking as you giggle with your lips pressed together. “Are you reciting The Hobbit?” 

“Yeah.”

“From heart?”

“...Yeah.” Eddie blinks, a rosy blush coloring his cheeks. “I know the first three chapters.”

You choke down another fit of giggles. “Eddie?”

“Mm?”

“I’m in fuckin’ love with you.”

Glasses (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Reader w/ glasses (She/Her)

Warnings: None

Tag list: DM or comment if you wanna be on the Eddie tag list!:)

Synopsis: Eddie always steals Y/N’s glasses, but what would happen if she finally stood up for herself?

I’m taking Eddie x Reader requests atm so feel free to request something!:)

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