#vs fics

Rating: PG-13

Summary:Falling in love with your best friend was never part of the plan, especially when you figured you weren’t Eddie’s type. But a trip home to sub in for a Hellfire meeting brings you more than a victory.

Warnings:Some anxiety, some insecurity, idiots to lovers, friends to lovers, fear of unrequited love, mention of Eddie’s extracurricular activities (if you squint).

Pairing:Eddie x fem!Reader

Word Count:8.2k ((how the ever-loving fuck did we get here))

Stranger Things Taglist|Requests are open for Eddie & Steve!

The invitation to join Hellfire for a night was far from a surprise.

Despite the distance - you in Indianapolis, Eddie in Hawkins - he kept you up to date on the latest happenings of the club you once attended regularly. As far as you could tell, not much had changed beyond your absence and as much shit as he gave the freshmen - a gaggle of children, some of whom you recognized as the siblings of former classmates - he was fond of them. They exasperated him - “Henderson’s a pain in my ass. He’s so smug! Some humility wouldn’t hurt him. Little shit.” - but he was convinced that Hellfire would be in good hands with them.

A blessing, really, because someone needed to carry on the legacy when he graduated (finally).

In a handful of conversations, he’d made mention of a basketball player amongst their ranks - a freshman benchwarmer who had yet to set foot on the court but was thrilled to be part of the team just the same - so the revelation that said player would rather attend the championship instead of completing the oh-so-thrilling tale of the Cult of Vecna was to be expected. Even more expected was Eddie’s call, imploring you to skip your final class before spring break and return to Hawkins in his hour of need.

It was a request you’d heard before and, at least on the surface, was not out of the realm of possibility.

In the beginning, when you first made the transition from high school to college - when you left Hawkins and the little group of friends you loved so dearly for the very first time - trips home were frequent. At least once a month, you made the trek back to Hawkins, just to sit and spend a weekend with Eddie.

The trips home weren’t exactly productive -  you attempted to help him study for classes he’d taken a handful of times, attempted to steer him toward better habits, but each study session dissolved into a smoke session nearly instantly. Still, they were necessary. 

Those trips kept you sane in the first few months, made you feel as if your world hadn’t been entirely upended, and you reveled in the connection you were able to keep with the guy who’d been your best friend since freshman year. Eddie was a constant in your life, the one thing that remained steadfast when your whole world seemed to shift, and you appreciated his unwavering presence more than you let on.

However, somewhere along the line, between classes and your job at the record store, new friends and new hobbies - including a new Dungeons and Dragons group that paled in comparison to Hellfire, a fact you assured Eddie of often - there seemed to less and less time to make the trip back to Hawkins.

As the trips started to grow fewer and farther between, Eddie began to pick up some of the slack. He made the trip to Indianapolis once - crashed in your too small twin bed and got kicked out by an RA - but, more often than not, made up for the distance by calling nearly every night. The conversations varied - ranging from rants about school, updates on Hellfire and your newfound social life, gossip about who he’d sold to, and existential conversations that made little sense to anyone else - but lately, there always seemed to be a request for you to return home tacked at the end of each one.

And for the first time in months, you decided to grant it.

The drive itself was uneventful, as always - the same winding backroads and sleepy towns, the same mile markers and curiosities stuck in time - but there was a spark of anxiety that settled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to erupt into a raging brushfire.

For months, you’d told Eddie that you wanted to come home, it was just hard finding the time - a statement that was true enough. You truly wanted to come back, if only to see him, but that wasn’t exactly enough anymore. He knew that there were plenty of reasons you’d kept your distance from Hawkins; despite the attitude he so openly displayed, Eddie understood why the whispers and glares got under your skin. 

What Eddie didn’t know was that the feelings distance - and subsequent trips home - dredged up brought about a realization that nearly sent you spiraling the last time you made the trip home.

As loathe as you were to admit it, somewhere along the line, you’d fallen in love with your best friend.

That realization - knowing that you’d become a walking cliche, falling in love with your best friend - hit you harder than you imagined it would. Though it made sense, it was difficult to come to terms with as Eddie had been the one constant in your life for years. He was your rock, the person who kept you going, and the fear that everything would change, regardless of whether he found out, weighed heavier on your chest the closer you drew to Hawkins.

A million questions plagued you as you navigated the backroads on autopilot; would the distance help temper your feelings or would you continue to fall, regardless of how far apart you remained? Would going out with someone else help or would it only end in comparing your date to Eddie? Would you be able to maintain your composure in his presence now, or would you fall apart?

Most importantly, would you be able to get over him and keep him in your life without growing to resent him? As desperately as you hoped for a happy ending, you knew that there wouldn’t be one.

For all of the similarities that you shared - all the bands you both loved, all the movies you agreed were the best, all the political and social beliefs you shared - and all of the nights you spent together, you were not Eddie Munson’s type.

For as long as you’d known him, Eddie had a thing for girls he swore he’d never have a snowball’s chance in hell with. He gravitated toward pretty girls in pastel colors with soft smiles and hearts of gold and, for the most part, you swore that it had never really bothered you. There was a moment in time when you’d suffered through crushing on Steve Harrington, a boy who’d never give you the time of day; how Eddie chose to break his own heart was up to him, you were simply there to watch.

Now, upon making the startling realization that you were in love with him, you realized that it had bothered you for years. The pang of annoyance that simmered in the pit of your stomach when he stared a little too long at Chrissy Cunningham and the way the smiles he shot at the girls who wandered around Starcourt soured your mood suddenly made far too much sense and you didn’t know if you could face him.

Unfortunately, turning around and returning to Indianapolis seemed to be out of the question as you turned onto the gravel road leading into the Hawkins High parking lot. You knew that you would have to face him sooner rather than later - he’d already threatened to drive to Indianapolis and bring you back, kicking and screaming; a threat you weren’t entirely convinced was empty - so you pulled into the parking spot right beside his van and took a moment to compose yourself.

With a few deep breaths - and one final listen to Lita Ford’s You Gotta Let Go - you cut the engine and crossed the parking lot to your fate.

As expected, the halls Hawkins High were fairly empty and largely unchanged. The vast majority of town lingered in the gym, crowded the sidewalk just outside, and you ruminated on how strange it felt to be back after swearing you’d never step foot inside again. The halls made you uneasy, always looking over your shoulder for someone out to make your life miserable, and you knew that you wouldn’t even consider this for anyone other than Eddie.

Anxiety - both from being back at Hawkins High and from seeing Eddie for the first time after your realization - sank to the pit of your stomach like a stone. It weighed you down, had you stepping across the tile almost hesitantly, and you struggled to force yourself into resignation.

This would be no different than any previous trip home; Eddie would never be able to tell how you felt if you kept your composure, there would be no change in your relationship, and you would survive spring break with only a little difficulty.

It was possible. You just had to keep telling yourself that you could pretend, just for a week.

The closer you drew to the theater room - the one place on school grounds you’d all been granted refuge - the louder the voices became and the easier it seemed to compartmentalize your feelings. The room was a cacophony of noise, a clusterfuck of shouting that you made no effort to decipher, and you were grateful for its distraction. And for a brief moment, it reminded you of the few good memories you held of high school.

This, the shouting and the laughter and the unabashed enjoyment of something so many others saw so negatively, was what encouraged you to keep going. Having the connection to Hellfire, to Eddie, made high school a little more bearable and if one night struggling to conceal your feelings was all it took to give a few freshmen the same place to belong you’d had,  you decided it was worth it.

After taking a few deep breaths, desperate to calm your racing heart, you rounded the corner and approached the door. From the hallway, you could tell that the heavy door was cracked enough to allow newcomers to enter easily, and felt a real smile tug at the corner of your mouth as you approached.

Just inside the room, Eddie sat on his throne - expression as impassive as he could muster, with the ghost of a frown curling his lips - while two of the freshmen explained their difficulty in finding a substitute for their friend.  There was a glimmer of annoyance simmering just beneath the surface - a flash of betrayal that someone he’d allowed in would choose basketball over Hellfire - but you could see the hint of nervous tension in his shoulders.

When you spoke to him, you promised that you would try to make it in time, not that you would. Realistically, you knew that you would’ve broken every traffic law necessary to make it back in time to save the day, but keeping your promise vague gave you a little room to breathe.

To keep from staring, from cataloguing the little changes he’d made in your absence, and allowing yourself to overthink the situation, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. When you opened them, you met Eddie’s eyes instantly.

The look of relief that flashed across Eddie’s face upon making eye contact lingered so briefly you almost wondered if you imagined it. Still, it managed to make your heart skip a beat as he straightened on his throne.

Though you were desperate to look away - you could feel your cheeks burn and palms begin to sweat - Eddie maintained eye contact as the freshmen continued to speak. His eyes glittered in the dim orange glow of the room and you could see the ghost of a smile he struggled to conceal. As discreetly as he could, he held up a hand to keep you from entering the room before promptly dropping it to the table with a heavy thud.

Eddie’s dramatics often overwhelmed you - he kept you out of them, shielded you from view any time he got too loud and riled up the wrong people - but this time, they set you at ease. It felt normal, something you’d grown to expect from him. It distracted you from your feelings, reminded you of what you were back in Hawkins for, and you smiled as you leaned against the doorframe to watch as all eyes snapped to him.

“Fear not, freshmen,” Eddie interrupted, voice carrying through the room and instantly quieting their nervous chatter. As they shared wide-eyed glances, you stifled a giggle at the lilt to Eddie’s voice - a tone that only appeared as he reveled in being the center of attention - and waited as he stood. “Though you made a valiant effort, I’m sure, I have found a replacement far better than any you could’ve scrounged up in the halls of Hawkins High. M’lady!”

With a flourish, Eddie gestured to the door and, on his cue, you threw it open with a satisfying thud. As the sound echoed through the room, every head snapped in your direction. You allowed them a moment to stare before raising a brow at the group. “Miss me?”

As much as you wanted to glance at Eddie, to really look at him after so long apart, you scanned the other faces occupying the room first. The freshmen looked awed - though you knew Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington, you weren’t exactly friends so there was little chance the kids had seen you before - while the other members of the club quickly cycled from confusion to recognition to excitement.

The Hellfire Club shirt you’d stashed at the back of your closet looked a little different than theirs - yours was faded from so many washes, stained at the bottom from eyeliner, and had a little rip beneath the left arm - but that mattered so little when the energy in the room was so palpable. Everyone seemed thrilled to have you, eager to welcome you into the fray, and you could see Eddie’s bright grin out of the corner of your eye as he waited for you to close the door behind you.

“Gentlemen,” he began, speaking to the freshmen, “meet Ama. She’s a level fifteen, chaotic good Aasimar. Cooler than any of you dweebs ever thought about being. And she’s here to help you try to survive Vecna.”

As they so often tended to, Eddie’s eyes remained on you throughout his introduction. His grin grew brighter the deeper into the room you stepped and you struggled to keep your breathing even as you spared the freshmen a glance. With a roll of your eyes, betrayed by your laughter, you offered them your real name. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” At your admission, the freshmen glanced at Eddie - hopeful, surprised that he’d spoken about them - only to scowl when you instructed, “Prove Eddie wrong.”

Compartmentalizing your feelings seemed almost too easy - falling into the role of your character, one you’d played throughout high school, helped - but the freshmen were helpful in distracting you. Almost immediately, they tugged you off to the side of the room with wide eyes and eager smiles to fill you in - something they quickly realized was unnecessary as Eddie had already taken care of that - before commencing strategizing.

There was little chance it would be anything less than thrilling - one of the things about Eddie that drew you in was his ability to tell stories and craft wonderful worlds - and any trepidation you had about sharing a space with him was quickly shoved to the back of your mind as the club members rallied around you. 

For nearly two hours, you managed to forget about every pang of anxiety you’d felt when speaking with Eddie - including the near meltdown you’d had on the drive home - and enjoyed the game.

Throughout the session, you did your best to avoid glancing at Eddie. As he spoke, you took great care to scribble down notes and alter your course of action - anything that would help you remain focused on the task, rather than his voice - but the buffer of other people and a task disappeared as the campaign ended with a win.

Mike and Dustin dispersed first - the Wheeler boy had a curfew and a flight to catch, Henderson was catching a ride with Steve Harrington and was amped to share the news of his victory - and were quickly followed by the remaining members of Hellfire.

It was only then that the room began to feel stifling.

The room felt too small, too quiet, all of a sudden and the high of winning faded almost instantly as Eddie spared you a glance out of the corner of his eye. For as much shit as you gave him over the years, he was a phenomenal friend and could read you better than anyone. There was little question that he’d noticed the tension in your shoulders, the distance you kept, the way you avoided his eyes.

Knowing Eddie, it was only a matter of time before he asked what was bothering you.

Eddie was always the one to break the silence, to babble about nothing at all in an effort to avoid the quiet, but you knew that his first thought would be to question your wellbeing. That was the last thing you wanted - especially as he could see through your lies easily - so you spoke before he could. “So,” you began, voice carrying in the silence, “you were really banking on me showing, huh?”

As he dropped his dice back into the pouch, he glanced at you over his shoulder with a laugh. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” he declared with a grin that had your heart hammering in your ribcage. “I knew you’d be here, even if it was just to see if I was lying about the freshmen being insufferable.”

The faith that he had in you - in the belief that you would show when he needed you, regardless of how little you’d been home recently - weighed heavily on your chest. There was something so light about his belief, something so pure, that it ignited a flame of guilt within you. A surge of disappoint - upset that you had to fall in love with him, that you couldn’t leave well enough alone and be content with just his unwavering friendship - turned your stomach and nearly pulled a sigh from deep within. However, when Eddie turned to face you fully, you swallowed your upset and covered it with a thoughtful frown.

“Henderson’s kind of a know-it-all.” The taunt was playful, a repetition of something he’d said to you months ago, but you knew that it would throw him off as you headed for the exit. “Maybe it’s just his tone.”

Eddie made a noise of agreement and nodded eagerly as he patted his pockets in search of his cigarettes. “It’s totally his tone,” he agreed easily. “Little shit.” A beat of silence passed as he continued his search before he made a triumphant noise upon finding them. “I’m proud of them for that campaign, though. I didn’t think they’d be able to rally but they pulled through.” As you approached the exit, he plucked a cigarette from the pack and spared you a sideways glance. “They couldn’t have done it without you, though. You kicked ass, princess.”

The term of endearment made your cheeks burn, as did his praise. Neither were new - Eddie was your biggest fan, just as you were his - but both hit you a little harder now. They made you feel weightless, on top of the world, and you struggled to keep your composure as the words rang in your ears. You laughed quietly, almost bashful - something you’d never been in his presence - and shook your head as you shoved the exit door open.

“I don’t know,” you began, grinning as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “They’re… tenacious.” Eddie made a face at your choice of words, pulled an exaggerated frown chosen to make you smile, and you rolled your eyes as he fumbled with his lighter. “They’re determined,” you supplied, giggling when he scoffed - when he mumbled, “You could’ve just said that,” - and rolled his eyes. “I think you were right, though. Hellfire’s in good hands with the kids.”

As you turned to face him, Eddie opened his mouth to reply - the words caught on the tip of his tongue - but before he could crow delightedly at your acknowledgement that he was right, he paused. He stood, hand still lifted to his mouth with a cigarette balanced between two fingers, and followed something in the distance.

Though Eddie got distracted often, you were curious what could interrupt his triumph and turned to follow his line of sight. There was a crowd of people leaving the gym, all wearing the garish colors of your high school and cheering - Hawkins won the championship, evidently - but, to your annoyance, it was Chrissy Cunningham who’d caught his eye.

It wasn’t her fault - she was nice, had actually spoken to you a handful of times when you’d both been stuck in the library at the same time - but in that moment, you felt a sharp pang of dislike curdle the bit of joy you’d felt at his praise. 

A flare of resentment overshadowed your feelings for Eddie - bitterness that, once again, he was choosing someone else, someone so different, over you - and simmered low in your stomach. It was another reminder of what you knew to be true, another reminder that Eddie wasn’t interested, and served as a reality check that quickly smothered the blossoming flash of hope you’d felt upon seeing him grin at you.

All too suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to return home, turn on a record your parents hated, and hide in bed until it was safe enough to return to Indianapolis. So, you masked your huff of annoyance with a yawn and shoved your hand into your bag in search of your keys.

“I’m sticking around Hawkins for a few days.” The lie slipped past your lips easily, meant to reassure Eddie that you were alright without even meaning to, but it still reclaimed his attention. “I’ll see you before I head back.”

Eddie frowned, eyes wide and confused as he followed you across the parking lot to your car. “What?” A flash of hurt crossed his face quickly, darkened the glimmer of excitement that still lingered in his eyes, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. “You’re not coming over?”

The thought of spending the night with him, the thought of spending the rest of your break with him - either forgetting your feelings entirely, pretending they didn’t exist and returning to the way things used to be, or living a fantasy in which he returned your feelings just as he did in your sweetest of dreams - was beyond tempting.

Regardless of your newly discovered feelings, you’d genuinely missed spending time with Eddie. He understood you in a way that no one else seemed to, made you laugh and made you feel seen. There was so much about your friendship with him that you missed but when the ache in your chest felt so unbearable, you knew that finding yourself alone with him was a bad idea.

“I’m tired, Eds. It was a long drive.” You felt guilty giving him such a flimsy excuse - you’d spent long nights together driving home, eager to catch up on one another’s lives and spend as much time together as possible - but it felt like the only option. You only hoped it sounded convincing enough as you offered him a weak smile and avoided his eyes. “I’m gonna head home and crash, I think.”

As he lit his cigarette, his frown deepened. “Crash at my place.” It was the most logical solution he could offer, one that you’d taken him up on without question a thousand times before, but sharing a bed with him no longer felt like something you could handle. It was begging for trouble but before you could refuse, Eddie continued. “I’ll drive, bring you back to get your car tomorrow. My uncle’s working nights so it’ll just be us. We can watch The Evil Dead or Nightmare. You always fall asleep during movies, anyway.” He paused to take a drag off his cigarette, used it as a moment to think of a way to entice you into spending time with him, before he brightened. “Oh, we can watch Sleepaway Camp! You left the tape at my place last time.”

You folded your arms over your chest, wary of the cool night air, and shook your head fondly. “First off, I don’t always fall asleep during movies. And second, you hate Sleepaway Camp, Eds. You called it the worst movie you’ve ever seen.” The reminder was accompanied by a quiet laugh, softer than what you knew he expected, but you hoped he would chalk it up to your exhaustion rather than see it as a symptom of something greater.

“Yeah.” He shrugged off his jacket, leather crinkling in the dark, before stepping closer to wrap it around your shoulders. “But you love it. So, I’ll suffer through. Until you fall asleep, anyway.” When you softened - both at the gesture and his admission - Eddie grinned. “C’mon,” he encouraged.

Though it was difficult to breathe, standing so close to Eddie and being wrapped in his jacket, you huffed your most affected sigh and raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

Eddie grinned, bright and sunny as he realized he’d won, and shook his head. “Fuck no.” He stepped back, opened the passenger door of his van, and bowed. “M’lady.”

Despite every nerve ending shouting that you were making a terrible decision, you climbed into the van and settled into the seat that, at one point, had been yours. As Eddie rounded the van to climb into the driver’s seat, you hugged his jacket tighter to your body and inhaled deeply. It smelled of leather and smoke - a heady mixture of cigarettes and weed - but it was a scent you’d once associated with home. Only now, it made the ache in your chest nearly unbearable. 

It killed him, you were certain of it, but Eddie remained quiet as he drove through the deserted streets of Hawkins slower than he ever had before. The radio was barely audible and, though he opened his mouth a handful of times, he didn’t speak a word as you sat with your head pressed to the cool glass of the window, watching as the night passed you by.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him tapping at the steering wheel, mindlessly following the beat of the Metallica song you knew he loved. Every few seconds, he spared you a glance - deep brown eyes wide and cautious, but curious. There was little hope he would make it through the night without asking what was wrong, without asking what he could do to fix the problem, and you had to swallow a sigh as you closed your eyes.

The air in the van was thick, tense, but for the first time in years, neither of you really knew what to say to remedy the situation.

It would be easy enough to tell him that you bombed an important exam or that your boss was being a dick. You could tell him that your friends at school were being weird or that there was a guy you liked who didn’t like you back - not a lie, though it might make him press for details. 

But Eddie was not someone you lied to.

No matter how badly you screwed up, no matter how awful you felt about a choice you’d made, you never lied to Eddie about it. He’d seen you at your worst, remained by your side through the worst, but this was different. This would change the entire dynamic of your relationship, you knew that, and you wondered if it would be worth it to lie. Just this once.

As Eddie pulled into the trailer park, you moved on autopilot. His uncle’s home was something of a second home to you, a place you spent nearly as much time as your own home at one point, and it looked exactly as you remembered it. The space was small, lived-in, but comfortable, and, to your surprise, you felt more at ease than you had in weeks as you crossed the threshold.

Despite Eddie’s overwhelming presence - the scent of him embedded in the jacket, the waft of his shampoo as he brushed past you - surrounding you, your heart began to calm to a steadier beat as you shrugged off his jacket.

“Sorry about the mess,” he mumbled, as if he’d suddenly become aware of the state of the trailer. “Maid took the week off.”

It was a weak joke, told to distract you - only uttered because of the tension that surrounded you both - and you scoffed as you kicked off your shoes. “I’ve seen it look worse in here, Eds,” you reminded him, voice soft in the silence as you padded over to the couch. “Don’t worry about it. As long as you’ve got a blanket for me, I’m fine.”

Eddie nodded, smile crooked as he took a moment to revel in the sight of you perched on the couch - back in the spot you’d missed for months - before he set off in search of everything you needed.

Months had passed since you’d last seen Eddie in person. There were polaroids of him - the pair of you together, candids of him you’d taken at band practice and on nights he lounged in your bedroom, a handful of photos of Hellfire as a whole - tacked to the cork board hanging above your desk but seeing him in the flesh was different.

The butterflies you felt when you caught sight of a photo of him paled in comparison to the butterflies swarming as you watched him shuffle about the living room in search of a blanket and the VHS. Though you’d always found him attractive, seeing him now - really looking at him for the first time since realizing your feelings - you were taken aback by just how beautiful he was.

His hair had gotten a little longer, a little messier - he tended to cut it himself, often on a whim, locked away in the bathroom with only a vague sense of what he was doing - but, despite his less than perfect haircare routine, you distinctly remembered how soft it felt between your fingers on the few occasions he’d fallen sleep with his head on your lap.

The line of his jaw was sharper than it had been, a little more defined, and the smooth expanse of his throat drew your eyes as he made a quiet noise of triumph upon finding the tape. His smile looked a little easier and his eyes gleamed a little brighter as he scurried around the living room - though you weren’t sure if that happened while you were gone or because you were back.

As he bent to pop the tape into the VCR, you caught sight of a new splotch of ink just above his hipbone. Before you could stop yourself,  you asked, “When’d you get that tattoo?”

Eddie grinned, bright and teasing, as he crossed the living room and lifted the hem of his Hellfire shirt to give you a better look. It was not the best tattoo you’d ever seen - though, if you were honest, none of Eddie’s tattoos were of the best quality - but that didn’t really matter as your eyes traced the line of his hip, roved the dark trail leading beneath the band of his boxers, instead.

“A few months ago,” he answered, voice bright - unaffected, as if you hadn’t just been ogling him, imagining what he might sound like if you were to press your lips to that exact spot. “Rick’s got a friend, did it for practically nothing.”

Unable to help yourself, you snorted at his answer and shook your head to clear the image of him lying beneath you. “For a shitty stick and poke, it looks pretty good.”  Eddie was used to your teasing, heard the same taunt each time he showed you new ink, and rolled his eyes as he fell onto the couch beside you. When he pouted - an exaggerated expression, accompanied by a glance at you from beneath his lashes - you shook your head. “‘M serious, Eds. I like it.”

He brightened, grin replacing the pout, and nodded. He paused for a moment, eyes searching your face, before he laughed. “I’m not the only one making changes. That’s new.” Your breath caught in your throat as he reached out to gingerly cup your chin and tilt your head to get a better look at the septum piercing you’d hidden for most of the night. “I like it.”

It was difficult to focus with Eddie so close, with his bright eyes trained on you, and you felt both immense relief and deep sorrow when he released you. You hoped that he couldn’t hear the tremor in your breath as you inhaled deeply. “I didn’t think you’d notice.” The admission was quiet, a near whisper, as you shifted to lift your legs beneath you and glance away from him, but he heard you clearly.

Eddie scoffed, as if he couldn’t believe you truly thought that. “Of course I did.” His refutation was a huff, not quite offended but verging on it, as he pressed play and spared you a glance. “I notice everything about you, princess,” he admitted as he reached out to grab your ankle and stretch your legs across his lap.

As difficult as it was to admit it, he was right. Eddie was always the first to notice any changes you made. He’d noticed something was wrong the moment you stepped foot into the theater room for Hellfire, had noticed you pulling away over the course of a few months, noticed that you weren’t the best friend he remembered. And, for a brief moment, you felt a pang of guilt lodge itself into your chest.

He always jumped to the worst conclusions first - he would likely think your mood was the result of something he’d done, that you were tired of him or eager to get away from him - and you nearly broke down and spilled your secrets right then and there. However, before you could, Eddie reached out to tug at a lock of your hair.

“I like the haircut, by the way. One of your friends do it?” When you nodded, he shook his head fondly. With an exaggerated sigh, he reached for the blanket and spread it across your laps. “Y’know, your parents thought I was a bad influence.” They’d hated him at first, swore he was the reason you started listening to metal and wearing black, but eventually grew fond of him, the more time he spent at your house. “Your new friends, though? They’re the real bad influences. Coming home with piercings and shit. Can’t wait to hear what your parents have to say about it.”

“You might never hear from me again if they manage to find out,” you warned, scoffing as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

Eddie grinned at the laughter he managed to pull from you, triumphant in a way that made you want to laugh - though, you knew he only felt so accomplished because you’d spent hours distancing yourself - and sighed contentedly as he settled back against the cushions. The moment felt normal, like something that you could handle, and you would’ve been fine, pretending that things were normal - if only a little uncomfortable with the proximity - had he not moved.

As the movie began to play, Eddie placed a warm hand on your calf. His calloused fingers traced your skin lightly, absentmindedly drawing nonsensical patterns, as he turned his full focus to the television. You knew that he meant nothing by it - he’d done it a thousand times before, casually pressed himself closer - it overwhelmed you. The weight of his touch, the heat of his hand, the cold sting of his rings, the care he took to move slowly in case you started to doze off; it all melded into a sensation that had your heart hammering against your ribcage and your lungs burning as you struggled to catch your breath.

In the past, it would’ve taken only moments for you to melt into the couch. Eddie’s soft touch, the weight of the old blanket stretched across your laps, the quiet hum of the television; it would’ve all lulled you into a peaceful sleep almost instantly. The conditions were ideal - something about Eddie’s place always helped you rest a little easier and, recently, you began to wonder if it was Eddie himself - but the turmoil raging in your brain kept you from settling, despite the exhaustion weighing heavily over you.

Instead, you sat, half-tucked into the corner, as still as possible - body stiff, unyielding to Eddie’s gentle touch - and stared at the television without truly seeing. Though the movie was one of your favorites, little about it managed to catch your eye as you focused on keeping your breathing even and your limbs from trembling beneath Eddie’s touch.

Beside you, Eddie did his best to remain still.

Most nights, he fidgeted throughout the movie - tapped his foot or twirled his rings or shifted until you finally shoved him down and wrapped your arms around him - but the only sign of life you noticed was his careful fingers, brushing your overheated skin.

Try as you might, the movie did little to hold your attention. There were moments you loved, moments that typically drew raucous laughter, that went unnoticed and you only laughed quietly - a reflex more than real amusement - at your favorite line when Eddie glanced at you.

At the noise, Eddie sighed and turned to face you. He gently squeezed your calf, hand searing against your skin, and shook his head fondly. “I can’t believe you actually like this movie, princess,” he teased, soft smile evident even in the dark of the living room. The light from the television bounced off his skin, cast soft shadows across his face, and made you ache to reach out and trace the slope of his noise. “I thought you had good taste.”

Any other time, you would’ve tossed a pillow at him and ardently fought back. This time, you simply rolled your eyes and shrugged. “You’ve been wrong before, Eds.” The tease was half-hearted, lobbed at him on instinct, and Eddie frowned as he reached for the remote.

“Alright,” he sighed, voice quiet as he squeezed your calf once more. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Before the question fully settled, you shook your head. “Nothing’s bothering me,” you attempted to assure him, though your voice shook as you pulled your legs away and tucked them to your chest. You offered him the most convincing smile you could muster - one that felt fake, one you knew he would see through. “I’m fine.”

Eddie scoffed. “C’mon, princess. I’ve known you for ages,” he reminded you as he leaned over to turn on the lamp. “Something’s up and I can tell. I just want to help.” He paused, took a moment to search your face, and frowned as he shifted in his seat. “Is it… Did I do something?”

Instantly, you shook your head. This was the reaction you’d been afraid of - worried that Eddie would read your discomfort as a result of something he’d done, rather than something you felt - and you tried your best to convince him otherwise. “No,” your assertion was strong, heavy, but Eddie looked less than convinced. “It’s not… it’s nothing you’ve done. I promise. It’s just been a weird brain day.”

He frowned at this and turned to face you. Soft brown eyes searched your face in search of an answer to his question. “Well, talk me through it,” he urged, shrugging as if that was the most logical suggestion. “We’ll make sense of whatever’s happening. I can… I don’t know, tell you your brain’s wrong?”

Though you wanted to smile at his offer, you knew that there would be no comfort in the conversation so you shook your head. “I can’t. It’s just… It’s not like that, okay? I just have to deal with it alone. It’s not a big deal, I promise. I’ll be fine.”

“I can help,” Eddie reminded you, almost desperately. “I promise, I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I get bad brain days, you know I do. Just talk to me.” He paused for a moment, allowed his words to linger in the air, before he tilted his head to study you intently. “Is it work? School? Homesickness? Is someone being a dick to you? D’you fail that chemistry exam?”

“Eddie. Drop it. Please.”  Your voice shook as you begged him to drop the subject but you knew Eddie. There was little he wouldn’t do to help you - he’d been your voice of reason a thousand times before, had been your sounding board, helped. You on the worst mental health days - but his constant questioning was beginning to drive you insane.

Tears stung at the backs of your eyes, threatened to spill over your lashes, and Eddie frowned as he shifted closer. “I just want to help, princess,” he breathed, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Please, let me help. I can grab my stash, if you want. If that’ll make you feel better.”

“Eddie, stop! You can’t help me because you’re the problem.”

The declaration escaped in a desperate screech, louder than you intended and far sharper. Eddie recoiled at your words, eyes wide and lips parted in a sort of hurt that made your heart ache, and you felt the tears begin to spill over your lashes as you shook your head. “Fuck, Eds, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“I… I thought you said I didn’t do anything.” He swallowed thickly, uncertain, and shook his head as he lifted his eyes to yours once more. “What is it? Whatever I did, I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose, right?”

You nodded immediately, though you kept your distance as Eddie reached out for you. “It’s not… you didn’t do anything,” you repeated, voice going quiet as you steeled yourself. There was only one way out of the conversation and, though you knew it was a declaration you couldn’t come back from, you felt it was better to hurt yourself than continue to hurt him. “I just… fuck! I’m in love with you, alright?” 

The moment the words spilled into the silence of the living room, you pushed yourself up off the couch and began to pace. “I’m in love with you,” you repeated, voice quiet. “I never really thought about it, you know? We were just… us. But the last time I came home, I really looked at you for the first time and it just kind of hit me. I know that I’m not you’re type and that this fucks everything up. It’s… it’s stupid, I know, so just… I don’t know. Take me to go get my car or let me sleep out here and I’ll walk back in the morning. Or something, I guess. Whatever.”

Eddie sat, stunned silent, on the couch. You could feel his eyes tracking your every step but before you could make a beeline for the door, he whispered, “You’re in love with me?”

You gave a weak laugh as you nodded. “Yeah,” you mumbled, voice thick with tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself and continued pacing the length of the living room. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“What?” The confusion in his tone nearly stopped you in your tracks. He sounded genuine, as if he couldn’t fathom why you would be apologizing to him, as he asked, “Why are you sorry?”

To you, the answer was obvious. “Because, we had such a good thing going, just being friends. It was perfect. Me falling in love with you fucks that up. I know that you’re not into me, that I’m not your type, and I really want to be friends with you but it’s so fucking hard looking at you when all I can think about is how head over heels I am.”

“Who said you weren’t my type?” Eddie raised an eyebrow as he stood from the couch and moved to stand in your immediate path. He reached out, placed his hands on your biceps, and waited for you to glance up at him. “And who said that I’m not into you?”

It was too difficult to look him in the eye, especially when your heart felt as if it might leap out of your throat, so you shook your head and turned your eyes to your feet. “I know what you’re into, Eds, and it’s not me. It’s girls like Chrissy. And that’s fine. You like what you like. You don’t have to… you don’t have to pretend, okay? Just,” you took a deep breath, eager to calm yourself, and shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s hand lifted to your chin. He gingerly tilted your head with two fingers and met your eyes with glassy ones of his own. “Sweetheart,” he cooed, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I’ve been in love with you since junior year.”

It was your turn to blink owlishly at him. Eddie laughed quietly as you shook your head. “What? No. I… what?”

He smiled, a goofy grin, and nodded. “You came back from summer break with no braces and that ‘take-no-shit’ attitude and I would’ve done anything you asked me to do. Fuck, I worshiped the ground you walked on,” he admitted, not ashamed in the least as he met your eyes. “But you went goofy over that asshole and I assumed I wasn’t your type. I figured you might want someone who has a chance of getting out of here someday. Looks like we were both wrong, huh?”

“Eddie…” Every thought you’d been spiraling over, every possible scenario you’d prepared yourself for, vanished as you searched his face for any hint of deception. There was a light in his eyes, a brightness that had been missing, and a lopsided grin that reassured you - this was no joke. “How’d you survive? I just realized and I’ve been going insane.”

His easy laughter filled your ears, eased the knot in your stomach, and calmed you as he brushed his thumb across your cheekbone. “Oh, I’ve been insane,” he declared, grinning as he took a tentative step closer. “That’s part of my charm.” He winked, exaggerated and over the top, and grinned when it pulled a soft giggle from you.

“Definitely part of the reason I fell in love with you.” Allowing the words to spill so easily, to pull them into a conversation, eased the weight that had nearly crushed you. It made your heart soar and breathing just a little easier when Eddie’s smile brightened. “The hair totally helped, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, nodding sagely. “I get it. I totally would’t date me without the hair.”

“You’re ridiculous, Munson,” you teased, grinning when he hid behind a lock of his hair. “Completely and utterly, you know that, right?”

He shrugged, completely unaffected, and wagged his eyebrows. “And I’m totally in love with you. You know that, right?”

“I’m starting to get it. Might need you to repeat it a few more times,” you suggested as you struggled to conceal your grin. “Just to really drive the point home, you know?”

Eddie nodded, looked as if it was the most reasonable request you’d ever made, and tilted his head. “What’s the tallest building in Hawkins?”

A surprised laugh escaped as you searched his face for any clue as to why he was asking. “I have no clue. Does it matter?”

“Kinda,” he argued as he struggled to keep from laughing. “If I want to shout it from the rooftops, I gotta figure out the best place to start. Thought about the cafeteria but someone actually graduated so… Rooftop it is.”

“Wow. You really are insane. Geez,” you laughed as you met his eyes, “too late to take that confession back?”

“Totally,” Eddie asserted, grinning when he used the hand on your cheek to tip your head. “I love you, you love me. No take-backs in love, princess. You’re stuck with me now.”

The smile you’d been struggling to conceal was near blinding, stretched and burned as you beamed at him, but you decided that you could live with it when Eddie’s answering grin made your heart skip a beat. “I think I can live with that.”

For the first time, Eddie had nothing to say. Instead, he leaned in to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss - another cliche, one that saw fireworks popping behind your eyes and butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach. Though this was not where you imagined your night going, who were you to question the way the universe worked?

Falling in love with Eddie was not something you imagined but, now, you couldn’t imagine a life without him.

____________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: Challenging myself to write less than 5k for the next fic I write (spoiler; I will probably fail). Anyway. I’m all packed for my trip and am gonna download some Stranger Things episodes to watch on the flight so. Whee.

Taglist:@x-avantgarde-x,@thisisparadisemylove,@eddiesprincess,@slvdsjjk,@munsonlover,@tasmbestspdrman,@urofficial-cyberslut,@jxngwhore,@hopelesslylosttheway,@meaganjm,@lazuli-leenabride,@deiondraaa,@piscesmesss,@glowyskiess,@kiszkathecook,@missryerye,@solarrexplosion,@ofherscarlettwitchways,@lovedandleft-haunted,@trappedinlimbo15,@sweetiekitten​,@bookfrog242​,@gwendolynmary​,@sage-bun​,@zealouslibrariesparadiselight​,@castiels-lilass​,@tojis-little-brat​,@emmah787​,@theworldsendxx​,@asuperconfusedgirl​,@flores-and-sunshine​,@passi0np1t​,@laurathefahrradsattel​,@hellf1reclub​,@slut4yourmom​,@niko-04​,@hannirose-loves-you​,@mrs-eddie-munson​,@screambabe​,@vllowe​,@ryswritingrecord​,@cheriebondy​

Rating: M | This is smut, no one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary:You never imagined you would fall in love with Eddie Munson. It was out of the realm of possibility. But here you are. Kind of in love with a guy who’s not your boyfriend. | Ft. “I’m kind of in love with you,” requested by @thisisparadisemylove

Pairing:Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (college student!Reader)

Warnings:No spoilers for season 4 (other than Eddie’s existence), very light idiots to lovers, unprotected p in v.

Word Count: 7.4k (I don’t know how that happened either)

Stranger Things Taglist|Requests are open for Eddie & Steve!

“Y’know,” Eddie began, voice startlingly loud as he broke the silence that had lasted significantly longer than you imagined it would, “I always pictured your room… different.”

When you shifted your attention from your own assignment to glance at him, dark edges stark against the soft colors of your childhood bedroom, you could clearly see the wonder written on his face. There was no malice in his comment - it was simply an observation, something he felt the need to breathe aloud in an effort to break the silence - and it made you laugh as you gave in to his distraction and tossed your pen onto the bed.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a pleased smile as he heard you shuffle to sit up, triumphant in the knowledge that he’d managed to break your concentration - and make you laugh, something he always seemed to be striving for - but he made no effort to glance at you as he continued studying the makeup of your bedroom.

Though this was far from the first time he’d stepped foot into your room, it was the first that he’d taken time to truly study his surroundings. Most nights, he stumbled through the dark to settle into your bed - or through the dark to leave your bed - and rarely ventured farther than between your sheets. In this moment, however, he seemed to revel in studying the pieces of your life.

Eddie’s eyes were wide, curious, as he glanced at the knick-knacks covering your dresser - the little objects friends and family picked out for you on trips or in moments of kindness, the books you’d left behind, the framed photos - but, as you studied him, you felt certain he would see a similar curiosity reflected in your eyes if he just spared you a glance.

There was something surreal about seeing Eddie Munson, the boy who’d remained at the periphery of your life throughout high school - always there, grinning when you caught his eye or cracking a joke to make you smile on the rare occasion he made it to any of your shared classes - but never quite fully enveloped into your routine, sat at the small desk in the corner of your bedroom. It was surreal to think that this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself there, that the scent of him was embedded in your sheets and that polaroids of his grinning face were tacked to your cork board.

More than that, it was surreal to think that Eddie Munson had managed to become one of the most important people in your life nearly overnight.

In the months following graduation, leading up to your departure from Hawkins, panic set in. In the pursuit of a way out of Hawkins - grades, extracurriculars, work experience - there was so much you feared you’d neglected to do. The goal had always been to survive high school, not really enjoy it, but that left you with a hollow feeling once the relief of managing that feat faded.

A small spark of anxiety nestled in your brain, made you fear that your college experience would be negatively impacted because of your reluctance to let yourself live, so you made a rash decision; you wanted to learn to really live, enjoy life, before you left Hawkins.

On a whim, you ended up at The Hideout after work - anxious to be around a crowd you’d never interacted with but curious. Seeing Eddie there was less of a surprise than it should’ve been and more of a relief than you ever imagined it would be. He was a familiar face, a comforting flicker of light in the dingy darkness of the building, and you gravitated toward him.

Watching as his confusion turned to glee - a look that quickly escalated to pride when you began to truly enjoy his band’s set - upon making eye contact with you made your heart race and your palms sweat. Seeing him in his element, truly enjoying himself and thrilled to be playing music (despite the less than enthused crowd of drunks), made you see him in a different light.

It should’ve been clear then that Eddie Munson was going to become important to you. It should’ve been clear - the moment that your breath caught in your throat upon seeing him after his set, hair damp and shirt clinging to his chest, the moment your heart began to race and your thoughts drifted to a place they’d never dared venture - that you were going to fall in love with him, head over heels with no hope of right yourself any time soon, but it was difficult to see beyond the glaring differences in that moment.

That first night, Eddie looked completely out of place in the pastel of your life. The black of his jeans and jacket, the silver of his rings, the roar of guitar as he drove you home - none of it seemed to fit into the little box you’d built for yourself. But after that night, Eddie became a permanent fixture in your life.

For three months, between graduation and moving to Indianapolis for school, you spent nearly every day together. After confessing that you were afraid you’d missed out - on what, you could never quite explain, but Eddie seemed to understand, regardless - he made it his mission to help you chase a life you’d always fantasied about leading.

There were moments of chaos - nights filled with laughter as he dragged you along, giggling and gasping, after getting caught making out at the lake by police; nights at The Hideout, dancing in your seat to music you never cared for before Eddie introduced it to you; early mornings sneaking into your house, limbs like jelly after spending a night in his bed, with swollen lips and a sated body. There were also moments of blissful peace - afternoons spent at his uncle’s trailer, listening intently as he taught you about Dungeons & Dragons; movie nights, face buried in the crook of his neck as you watched The Evil Dead.

Eddie helped you experience a life you’d always been curious about - sneaking out, staying up late, giggling as he let you smoke with him. But as you were heading off to college and he was staying behind to (finally) complete his stint at Hawkins High, the conversation that you so desperately wanted to have remained unspoken.

The label you so desperately wanted to give him - the title of boyfriend, the decision to be exclusive, the declaration of love - all went unsaid. There was a fear that things would change, that he would forget about you when you left, but the distance only seemed to bring you closer together.

And now, after months of allowing Eddie to chip away at the walls of your once sheltered life, he looked as if he’d belonged amongst the pieces of your life all along.

As he sat at your desk, you reveled in his presence. He looked beautiful - dark hair a frizzy mess, mussed from running his fingers through it as he attempted to focus on his essay, and bottom lip swollen from biting it in concentration - and you sometimes wondered how you’d managed to catch his eye. But that question mattered so little when he looked so at home in your space, with his jacket slung over the back of the chair and shoes kicked off near the door, that it made your heart ache.

Though you hadn’t said it yet - you sometimes wondered how much was appropriate to say, how vulnerable you could be with someone who wasn’t officially your boyfriend - you’d missed him more than anyone else. And, if the embrace he’d pulled you into the moment he landed on your doorstep was any indication, he’d missed you, too.

A call of your name, quiet - given his normal volume - but mildly concerned, tore you from your reverie. It was then that you realized you could feel the weight of Eddie’s gaze, comforting and warm - a look that made you feel as if you were the only person that mattered, the same look he gave you for years before you truly noticed - on your skin.

When you glanced at him, blinked away the train of thought that distracted you so, Eddie pulled a face in the hope of making you laugh. “Do I have something on my face?”

Despite the teasing lilt to his tone, the look on his face when he settled back into his seat - furrowed brows, parted lips, narrowed eyes - expressed his concern that you had yet to respond to his observation. He was the one who spaced out, not you, but before he could question it, you shook your head.

“I can’t help myself,” you teased, grinning as you met his eyes, “you’re just so damn cute, Munson.” The dusting of pink that coated his cheeks warmed you from the inside, made your heart skip a beat, and you swallowed a giggle as he tipped his chin to avert his eyes. “What’d you think my room was going to look like, anyway; Barbie’s Dream House?”

As you engaged in the conversation, Eddie grew more animated. He allowed a beat of silence to pass as he pretended to consider your question. “Yeah,” he confirmed, nodding solemnly - though you could see the grin threatening to appear as he tilted his head to study you. Another beat of silence passed as he glanced around he room, eyes narrowing as he took in the objects you’d left behind, before returning his full attention to you. “I was expecting way more pink, if I’m honest. And, I don’t know, ruffles? Maybe a Tom Cruise poster.”

Eddie grinned triumphantly at the sound of your laughter - a look so pleased that it made you want to forget the entire conversation and pull him into a kiss; a look that brightened his entire countenance and made your heart ache. He waited patiently for your giggles to subside, head tilted as he observed you, and laughed when you shook your head. “How many girls’ rooms have you been in, Eds?”

The pink dusting his cheeks grew a little darker, more noticeable in the soft lamplight, and you bit your lip to hide your grin as he laughed. “Just yours,” he answered, honest as always - unwilling to hide anything from you, now that you’d let him into your life. “Why would I want to be in another girl’s room when I can be in yours?” When you blinked, heart pounding at his revelation, he simply shrugged as if that was the most obvious answer he could’ve given. “Anyway, that’s just what the golden girl’s room always looks like in movies. All neat and ruffly and pink.”

At Eddie’s revelation, the noise in your brain grew deafening. The implication that Eddie, like you, had been treating your relationship as exclusive, even without the label; the knowledge that he’d taken the time to consider what your room might look like, based on movies he’d seen and the reputation you held; the admission that, despite his experience with girls before you, your room was the first he’d snuck into - every thought rattled in your brain and made it difficult to focus on one singular train of thought.

Realistically, you knew that Eddie shared your feelings - the way he looked at you, the way he gravitated toward you, the compliments he paid you, the time you spent together - and that every feeling you wanted to share would be validated. Still, there was an unfounded fear that Eddie - sweet, beautiful Eddie who you’d fallen hopelessly in love with - didn’t share the feelings you’d been nursing for nearly a year. There was a glimmer of fear - one you assumed was standard for a first love - that you would ruin the bliss you’d been enjoying if you shared your feelings and that kept you from voicing anything of substance aloud.

Instead, you shook your head and reached for your pen. “Yeah, well, I’m not a golden girl in a movie,” you reminded him. The declaration was soft, not quite as teasing as you’d intended, but Eddie clearly heard it as he watched you settle back amongst the pillows on your bed. From the corner of your eye, you could see the frown tug at the corners of his mouth, confused by the sudden shift in your mood, but before he could ask what prompted it, you shook your head. “You need to focus.” The directive was as light as you could manage - not an order but far from the playful prompt you gave the moment he arrived with his backpack in hand - but still felt harsh as you continued, “Finish your essay and you’re free to do whatever you want for the rest of spring break.”

Eddie allowed your statement to linger in the air, gave you both a moment to ruminate on it - you to cringe at how you continued to get in your own way, Eddie to frown at what he could’ve possibly said - before he nodded. A small part of you awaited a joke, something to ease the sudden tension, but Eddie seemed uncertain as to how he should proceed so you nearly held your breath as you waited for his response.

“Yeah,” he finally agreed, voice as quiet as you’d ever heard it - confusion evident in the way he turned his eyes away from you. His attention fell to the cassette player in the corner, surrounded by tapes and records - most of which he’d introduced you to. “Mind if I put on some music? I work better when I can’t hear myself think.”

Despite the sudden heaviness you felt in your limbs - the fear that you’d made an awkward moment worse by letting yourself get in your head - you shook your head. “Go for it.” When he returned his attention to you, soft brown eyes studying your face, you gave him what you hoped passed for a real smile as you gestured to the small basket on the corner of the dresser. “Most of the good tapes are in there, they’re the ones I took to school with me.”

As tempted as you were to return to the assignment spread across the sheets in an effort to distract yourself, you allowed your focus to remain on Eddie as he stood. Though you were reticent to admit it, you missed everything about him.

The sight of him stretching, arms lifted above his head and head tilted back to expose his neck, captivated you. The Metallica shirt he wore lifted slightly, black material giving way to a sliver of skin just above the waist of his jeans, and it instantly sent a jolt of heat through your body. That particular spot was free of ink - for the time being - but rarely free of color. It was the same spot you painted purple with your mouth, teeth nipping at the delicate skin, each time you were given the opportunity to explore his body and the sight of it had your breath catching in your throat.

Eddie knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his movement caught your attention and you could see that a glimmer of the light in his eyes had returned. There was a mischief glittering there, deep brown bright with amusement, as you lifted your head to meet his gaze. When you made eye contact, he lifted the corner of his shirt quickly - flashed the few small splotches of ink etched into his torso - and winked exaggeratedly. 

There was a distinct lack of your touch on his skin - a lack of red and purple decorating his chest, his hipbone, his neck - but you knew that would change before he left. When you flustered, desperate to keep yourself together, Eddie smirked and moved to cross the room.

“It’s alright,” he assured you. There was an exaggerated air of confidence to the reassurance, a teasing lilt to his words as he ran his fingers along the edge of your dresser, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing as he waited for you to glance at him from beneath your lashes. He moved slowly, purposefully, and brightened when he seemed to realize that your mood - in this case - was eased by his actions.

As you took a moment to soak in his appearance - arms slightly more toned than the last time you saw him, hair a little longer, eyes a little brighter - Eddie preened under your scrutinization. Each time he realized what an effect he had on you, each time he realized you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, his chest and shoulders straightened with a sort of pride that made you want to reach out and pull him into a kiss.

With a smirk, Eddie swept a hand down his body - fingers teasingly grazing his stomach, catching on the leather of his belt. “Who wouldn’t miss all of this?”

The question was in no way serious and you were grateful for the moment of levity as you launched a pillow in his direction. “Yeah, yeah.” The dismissal came out in a huff, laughter badly hidden, and you knew that Eddie could see through the roll of your eyes. He knew the effect he had on you and reveled in it as he turned to shuffle through the tapes. “Just pick something and get back to work. You’re passing Ms. O’Donnell’s class and graduating this year whether you like it or not.”

An indignant huff escaped his mouth as he nodded, almost distractedly, and shuffled through the cases. “Believe me,” he sighed, “I’d like to graduate.” There was an instant desire to assure him that he would - to remind him of how hard he’d been working to finish the year and finally, finally leave Hawkins High - but he corrected himself before you got the chance. “I’m going to graduate,” he declared, certain of the fact. “With your help on this essay, I’ll pass this fucking class and snatch that diploma. Eighty-six, baby.”

There was little doubt that he would finally manage - he’d admitted, quietly, that there was nothing left for him in Hawkins - to walk across the stage. You had full confidence in him, a fact that he was aware of, so you nodded as you reached for your book once more. “Eighty-six,” you agreed easily, “totally your year, Eds.”

The conversation tapered off then, you immersing yourself in the book you’d been assigned for English and Eddie busying himself with digging through the contents of the basket. The quiet clatter of plastic tape cases colliding filled the room, followed by the occasional hum as he dug through the contents - noises of approval, for the most part - before a quiet laugh drew your attention.

Eddie paused his shuffling and turned to spare you a glance over his shoulder. When you met his eyes, he smiled. “These are the tapes you took with you?” He gestured to the basket, filled to the brim with the tapes you listened to most, and smirked when you nodded. At your confirmation, he hummed - pleased - before turning back to the basket. “Most of them are ones I gave you,” he observed. Though he no longer faced you, you could see the pleased look on his face through the mirror. 

Some small part of you wanted to remind him that, before you met, the only music you really listened to was whatever played on the radio. He’d expanded your horizons in more ways than one - helped you learn about life and good music - but that reminder went unspoken as the look on his face shifted.

A grin, honest and bright, lit his face as he lifted a tape with a hand-drawn label. “You’re not sick of this one yet?” 

In his hand, he held the first mix-tape he’d made for you - given to you a few weeks before you were due to leave Hawkins, just after you’d spent the night in his bed, smoking and listening to his array of music. The tape was full of music you never would’ve given a chance had Eddie not been the one to introduce it but it had become one you played so often your roommate could recite the track-listing by heart.

The cover was something Eddie drew himself - a silly little illustration of the characters you’d created together for a campaign you never got a chance to play - and the track-listing was a thoughtful mixture of artists he loved and songs he admitted reminded him of you.

“Not even close.” The fact that he’d even bothered to ask was ridiculous - as if you could grow tired of something he made so carefully - and you scoffed as you moved to sit cross-legged in the middle of your bed. “This really cool guy that I’m kind of in love with made it for me. I’m gonna keep playing it until it falls apart. Then, maybe he’ll make me a new one to wear out.”

Eddie grinned as he popped the case open and turned back to the tape player. “Who says I haven’t already made you a new one? You’ll get it before you leave. I just needed a reason to invite you over.” Though you knew that was a lie - Eddie never needed a reason to invite you over, especially when you both knew that it would end in you lying in his bed - you didn’t bother calling him on it. Instead, you watched with a fond smile as he turned back to the desk.

He made it only a few steps, hummed only the first few seconds of Ozzy’s Now You See It, before the bright grin on his face shifted into an emotion you’d never seen from him. Eddie paused, body going stiff at the foot of your bed, before turning to you with wide eyes and parted lips. “Wait. What’d you just say?”

With a confused frown, you watched him lift himself onto the bed to settle a few inches from you. As he searched your face, brows furrowed, you racked your brain. “I just said that the tape was made by this cool guy that I’m in… Oh.” The declaration you’d been swallowing for months, words pressed so tight to your chest during each phone call and visit, escaped so easily - without any notice - but Eddie caught it. 

It was no surprise that he’d catch the slip - he seemed to know you better than anyone, seemed capable of reading you so easily - but the look on his face did manage to catch you by surprise. He looked awed, as if he couldn’t believe you might love him, and thrilled - overjoyed by the possibility. Wide eyes remained glued to your face, eagerly searching for any hint of deception, as he requested, “Say it again.”

“I, uh, I’m… I think I’m in love with you, Eddie.” The admission was quiet, a near whisper, but it felt as if you’d shouted it. When you glanced at Eddie from beneath your lashes, eyes searching his for any indication as to how he felt, the music faded into a persistent ringing in your ears. The beginning of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and you felt a bit of the weight on your chest begin to disappear. “I know that we’re not, like, official or whatever and that I’m not your girlfriend, but -“

Before the words fully escaped, Eddie surged forward and reached out to cup your cheek. “You are my girlfriend,” he exclaimed, voice clearly louder than he intended as he frowned. “Aren’t you? I mean, that’s what I’ve been calling you this whole time.” He searched your face, unsure of whether you meant this to be a joke or if he’d misread your entire relationship. “Was I… Should I have asked? ‘Cause I’m definitely in love with you.”

The revelation that Eddie considered you his girlfriend - that he referred to you as such, that he had always thought of you as such - and that he loved you hit you square in the chest. It simultaneously lifted the weight off your shoulders and sent your heart rate skyrocketing. There was a moment of immense relief as you realized your anxiety had been for naught before you dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“I’m such an idiot.” Despite the hold Eddie had on you, ringed fingers pressing into the heated skin of your cheeks, you attempted to glance away from him as you lamented the amount of time you’d wasted.

Laughter rumbled in Eddie’s chest as he leaned forward, tilting his head to get a better look at you. “This would be really embarrassing if you’re weren’t so cute,” he teased, grinning brightly as he shook his head. When you opened your mouth to reply, retort on the tip of your tongue, Eddie smirked and leaned in to press his mouth to your neck.

“Eddie!” The hum of his acknowledgement rumbled in his chest, vibrated against the column of your throat, as he pressed a kiss to the delicate skin just beneath your ear. You could feel the curve of his mouth - lips turned up in a smirk - when you giggled at the feeling of his hair tickling your neck. “You need to finish your essay.” There was no real admonishment, no desire for him to get back to work, and you both knew that.

Another hum of acknowledgment, this one followed by a sharp nip to the corner of your jaw, sounded as he nudged you back. He swept a hand to the side, easily knocking the books from your bed, as he settled above you. “I can finish that later,” he declared, grinning as he pulled away just enough to see you settled amongst the pillows. “What I need to do,” he began, eyes darkening as he gave you a once over, always eager to witness the dishevelment he’d caused, “is show my girlfriend how much I love her.”

The air in your room began to feel stifling - heavy with the scent of smoke, leather, and Eddie’s shampoo - but that mattered so little when Eddie hovered above you, eyeing you as if you were the only thing that mattered. The look in his eyes, so focused on you, was one you’d seen a thousand times before. It was the way he’d looked at you from the very beginning and suddenly, you could see it for what it truly was.

“You love me.” The declaration was breathless, whispered into the room and lost to the Metallica song crackling through your speakers, but he heard it clearly. 

Instead of offering a reply, confirming what you both knew to be the truth once more, Eddie surged forward. His dark eyes glittered with a warmth that bled into your very bloodstream - the cool bite of his rings against your heated waist paled in comparison to the flames you felt lapping at your skin - and you nearly mourned the loss of eye contact as he pressed his lips to yours. He tasted of cigarette smoke and mint - gum he’d used to hide the taste you so often teased him for - and it was quickly becoming a combination you associated with home.

Eddie’s body enveloped yours, the weight of him a welcome comfort you swore you would never tire of. As the unwarranted anxiety began to fade, blistering arousal quickly took its place. The press of his lips to yours, the sting of his fingers digging into your skin, erased everything from your mind; in that moment, the only thing that existed was him.

Though you were used to frantic moments stolen in the dark - fingers fumbling in the dim light of his bedroom to unbuckle his belt, lips bumping earlobes or chins as you attempted to find one another in the dark of his van, jewelry tangling in clothes or hair as you tried to keep quiet in your bedroom - this was what you craved. There was an eagerness to his actions, a desire to provide you with a physical representation of the love he’d just expressed, and you had no desire to stop him.

As his lips moved with yours, tongue and teeth clashing in a kiss that lacked grace but overwhelmed you with passion, his hands drifted down your sides. Sure fingers slipped beneath the cotton of your t-shirt, bunching the fabric just beneath your breasts as calloused fingers raked across your skin. 

“Eddie,” you whined, breathless as he pulled away from the kiss to nose at your jaw, “touch me. Please.”

The smirk curling his lips made your chest tighten and sent a rush of heat to your aching core as he shifted to study your face. “So needy,” he teased. “I’m trying to show my girlfriend just how much I love her and all she wants is to rush me.” He tutted, eyes narrowing playfully as he leaned in to ghost his lips over yours. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

Eddie reveled in the sight of you beneath him - always had, as evidenced by the Polaroids he’d taken of you in the moment, tucked away in a box in his room - and took a moment to study you. As his eyes roved your skin, you took the opportunity to return the favor.

His hair was mussed from your hands, lips swollen from the kisses he’d planted across your skin, and cheeks flushed a soft pink. The Metallica t-shirt he wore rode up, exposing the skin of his waist, and you could clearly see the evidence of his arousal tenting his ripped jeans. You were enamored with him, in awe of his beauty, and made no effort to hide the fact.

“You’re so pretty, Eds,” you whispered, music nearly drowning out your compliment as you lifted your hand to trace the line of his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, hidden as he swallowed harshly, and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I’m so in love with you.”

A flash of something softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him, crossed his face before it was quickly smothered by a teasing smirk. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, sweetheart.” With a wink, he shifted to his knees and reached for the collar of his shirt. 

The fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt fell to the ground with a soft thud, tossed into a pile to be forgotten until the early hours of the morning, before his hands fell back to your hips. As you studied the ink decorating his chest, soft fingers traced the width of your ribcage. 

“You ever thought about getting a tattoo?” The answer was simple - not until you’d started dating him - but the words remained stuck in your throat as calloused fingers ghosted along the heated skin just beneath your breasts. Instead of responding, you shook your head and focused on keeping your breathing even as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. “Hm. Maybe that’s a good thing,” he mused, eyes shining with mirth as he reached for the bunched hem of your t-shirt. “You’re already so fucking gorgeous, I don’t think I could handle you getting any hotter.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you returned, breathless as you sat up to help in the removal of your shirt. As Eddie laughed, your lips curved into a mischievous smile when you reached out to trace the tattoo just below his collarbone. “I always thought you were cute but the tattoos definitelyhelped.”

His laughter echoed through the room, bounced off the walls in tandem with Joan Jett’s voice, and settled low in the pit of your stomach as his hands fell to the button on your shorts. “Everyone thinks I’m the bad influence,” he hummed, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized you, “but I think it’s you. Getting me in your bed, flattering me.” He tutted, the sound a playful taunt, and shook his head teasingly. “You’re downright ruining me, baby.” As he began to tug at the material, ready to guide it down your thighs, he smirked. “Maybe I should return the favor.”

The drag of his fingers over the delicate skin of your inner thighs was deliberate, teasing. He traced the spots his mouth so often attached to, pressed his fingers into the soft skin and watched - fascinated, dark eyes captivated as your lips parted in a soft whine - and inhaled sharply when his eyes dipped to discover the wet patch darkening your panties.

“Already so desperate for me,” he hummed, pleased at the sight of you beginning to unravel. “I’ve missed this,” he admitted, voice dipping lower as he trailed his fingers over the cotton hiding your aching cunt from his hungry eyes. “Missed you, sweetheart.” With a wicked grin, he slipped his hands beneath the band of your panties and tugged them down your thighs, tossed into the pile at the foot of your bed. “And I don’t even need to ask if you’ve missed me. You’ve been waiting for this since I walked in the door. Haven’t you?”

A soft gasp fell from your parted lips as Eddie’s fingers dipped between your spread thighs. He traced your slick folds, eagerly gathering the arousal pooled there, and waited patiently for your answer. “Yeah,” you admitted easily, voice pitching higher as he pressed his thumb to your aching clit. “Please, Eds. Missed you, missed this. Touch me, please.”

His lips curled into an amused smile as his fingers ghosted along your slit. “I am touching you.” He dragged his thumb across the sensitive bundle of nerves in a slow drag as his eyes flickered to yours. “Is this not enough?” When you shook your head, Eddie tilted his and dragged his tongue along his bottom lip to wet it.

“Words, princess,” he encouraged, fingers dipping to press into your entrance. The cool metal of his rings drew a sharp gasp they bumped your heated skin and Eddie smirked at the arch of your back when you shifted your hips to gain friction. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Can’t leave my girlfriend hanging.”

The soft demand heated your skin, made your blood boil and the ball of fire settled in the pit of your stomach burn hotter, as you met his eyes. There was a sort of amusement there - he’d spent months encouraging you to ask for what you wanted, cooing over the way you averted your eyes or mumbled requests into the crook of his neck - as well as a burning desire to give in to your requests.

He would give you the world, all you needed to do was ask.

“I want…” His eyes fell to your mouth, watched intently as your tongue darted out to wet your lips, before they flickered up to meet yours. He nodded encouragingly, almost imperceptibly, and huffed a quiet laugh when you asserted, “I want your mouth, please.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” With a wink, he surged forward to press a searing kiss to your mouth before shifting down on the bed.

Eddie was eager. When he slipped between your spread thighs, large hands gripping the supple flesh to hold you open for him, he surged forward with no hesitation. He nosed at the juncture of your thigh, pressed a blistering kiss to the top of your mound, before he licked into you with reckless abandon. There were no tentative flicks of his tongue, no bored swipes that indicated he was acting out of some kind of obligation; instead, he swiped the flat of his tongue through your folds and lapped at you like a man starved.

Large fingers, warm and calloused from years of playing guitar, pressed to your aching clit as dark eyes flickered up to meet yours. And even with his mouth otherwise occupied, Eddie couldn’t seem to find it in himself to remain quiet for more than a few moments.

Words failed him - his tongue was busy lapping at the slick dripping between your thighs - but when your fingers tangled in his hair, he groaned openly, desperately, and continued to make little sounds of pleasure as he pressed his face impossibly closer. There had always been a charming eagerness to his desire, a willingness to give his entire self in pursuit of your pleasure, and the realization that it was a manifestation of his love had your stomach tightening, flames of unfettered arousal licking at your sweat slick skin, as you tugged at his hair once more.

With no reason to hide the bliss Eddie made you feel, you allowed the soft noises he loved so dearly to echo through into the room. Cries of his name, whimpers and whines as his lips wrapped around the little bundle of nerves or his fingers pressed deeper and deeper, joined the thump of Black Sabbath’s bass - blended with the deep moans Eddie released with each tug of your fingers in his hair, the wet sounds of his mouth working at your aching cunt - and rang in your ears as your vision began to white at the edges.

“Come on,” he urged, voice rough as he glanced at you from between your thighs. “Come for me. Want to make you feel good, baby.”

The combination of his voice - sounding just as wrecked as you felt, despite the fact you had yet to touch him - and the insistent press of his fingers, the latch of his lips to your aching clit had you barreling over the edge with a sharp cry of his name. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugged at the deceptively soft locks, and arched forward in an effort to hold yourself together as fire consumed your body.

Eddie watched, dark eyes trained on your face as your back arched and chest heaved, with a look so ravenous it made your heart skip. He continued working you through the release, hands and mouth steady, and only slipped away when you used the grip on his hair to shove him away.

As he sat up, he dropped his hand to your thigh, slick fingers pressing into your heated skin as he tugged you close. He nudged your shoulder, encouraged you to lie back, and chased your mouth with his own as he did so. His lips pressed to yours in a heated kiss, stealing the air from your lungs as he slotted himself between your parted thighs, and you tugged at his hair once more.

“Please,” you begged, breathless words muffled against his mouth. “Fuck me, Eds. Wanna feel you. Wanna make you feel good, too.”

Eagerly, as his mouth moved against yours - a messy clash of lips and tongue and teeth - you dropped your hands to his belt and began to tug. The impatience you expected of him, the desire to press himself into you after weeks apart, made him shimmy his jeans just low enough to free his cock from the confines.

He swallowed each noise you made - soft sounds of pleasure, eager whimpers as he wrapped your leg around his waist, a sharp gasp as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance - and pressed his body as close to yours as he could. “I love you,” he huffed, words muffled against your skin as he dropped his head to press against your shoulder. “Fuck, I love you.”

With that declaration, he pressed forward and filled you with a careful thrust of his hips. Your moan filled the room, a broken sound that saw Eddie press his fingers into the flesh of your thighs with enough pressure to bruise, as he filled you for the first time in weeks. Your breath caught in your throat as you dropped your hands to his arms for an anchor point.

Eddie moaned, the sound desperate and low in his throat, as he mouthed at the pulse point beneath your ear. “Shit,” he laughed, breath blowing sticky and warm over your heated skin, “you feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” He gave an experimental shift of his hips, pressed as deep as your body would allow, and swore as you clenched around him. “Christ, you’re perfect. An angel,” he babbled, lips ghosting over your sweat slick skin. “So good for me. How’d I get so lucky?”

As desperate as you were to counter his statement - to remind him that you were both lucky, that you were two halves of a whole who’d managed to find one another - the words died on the tip of your tongue with the first snap of his hips. Eddie mouthed at your skin, nipped at the hinge of your jaw and the column of your throat, as he dropped a hand between your thighs to rub rough circles over your clit.

“Take me so well,” he praised, voice low in your ear as he rutted into you. The weight of his body atop yours, the feeling of his hands gripping you and his mouth on your skin, made your heart hammer in your chest.

“Feel so good, Eds,” you moaned, desperate as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He followed easily as you tugged his face to yours - deep brown wide and glassy, lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Treat me so well, babe.”

Eddie keened at your praise, sound wrecked as his pace began to falter. He dipped his head, pressed his mouth to yours in a blistering kiss, and you knew that he was close. The rhythm he’d built, the sharp snap of his hips and the rough drag of his thumb, combined with the sound of his voice in your ear pressed you closer and closer to the edge and you swore you heard Eddie huff a noise of relief when you came around him.

“Where?”

There was no need for him to elaborate. Instead, you wrapped your leg tighter around his waist and used your grip on his hair to hold him close. “Inside,” you requested, voice a wavering moan as you barreled toward overstimulation. “Please!”

With a string of swears, Eddie’s hips stuttered. The praise he spewed was mumbled, an incoherent babble lost to the ringing in your ears, but you clearly heard the moan that escaped as he finally met his end. He snapped his hips a few final times - desperate to finish and press his release as deep as he could - before pulling away and collapsing at your side with a laugh of disbelief.

In the silence, as you both fought to catch your breath, Metallica’s For Whom the Bell Tolls nearly eclipsed the soft sound of Eddie’s laughter.

“What?” You turned your head, eyes heavy but curious as you traced the line of his jaw.

He looked beautiful, hair a mess and body flushed. The few splotches of red - lines from your nails, nips from your teeth - that decorated his chest would darken and he would lament having to cover them but in that moment, nothing seemed to matter outside the bubble of your room.

Eddie shook his head, curls a tangled mess as they lay across the pillow. He turned to look at you, eyes shimmering with an easy amusement that reminded you just why you fell in love with him in the first place. “When I imagined what your bedroom looked like, I never thought I’d end up in your bed. I never even thought I’d see it,” he teased, lips curling into a soft smirk as his eyes fell to your mouth. “But, fuck, I’m glad I did.”

“Yeah?” Eddie scoffed, as if to say ‘of course,’ and grinned when you reached out to tangle your fingers with his. “Me, too.” As he squeezed your hand, you thought for a moment before adding, “And I’m glad you’re my boyfriend, even if I didn’t realize it.”

Eddie’s soft laughter enveloped you, wrapped around your heart and squeezed in the best way possible. It was not mocking - if anyone understood the little tendril of anxiety, it would be Eddie - but reassuring. He squeezed your hand, eager to anchor you to the moment, and tugged you closer as you both allowed the music to wash over you. Little else needed to be said, especially after so much had already been revealed, but you knew that the rest of your break would be anything but boring.

There would be time later for you both to finish your assignments just as there would be time for you to spend with your boyfriend. And that thought made you smile as you curled into Eddie’s side and allowed sleep to overtake you.

___________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I’m going to title every one of my Eddie fics after an 80s song. Also the next Eddie fic is a) not going to take place in reader’s bedroom and b) not going to be with a golden girl. I’m gonna take one for the fellow metalhead girlies and write Eddie with a girl into the same music. Anyway. I’m down bad, besties.  THIS MAN. Oof.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x,@thisisparadisemylove,@eddiesprincess,@slvdsjjk,@munsonlover, @noemotion2day, @tasmbestspdrman,@urofficial-cyberslut, @janine-sophie, @jxngwhore,@hopelesslylosttheway,@meaganjm,@lazuli-leenabride,@deiondraaa,@piscesmesss,@glowyskiess,@kiszkathecook,@missryerye,@solarrexplosion,@ofherscarlettwitchways, @gh0stfaceh0urs, @ballislife1799, @lovedandleft-haunted,@trappedinlimbo15,@sweetiekitten​,@bookfrog242​,@always-typing​

Updated: June 13, 2022

Eddie Munson

Whole Lotta Love|SMUT, No one under 18! | Eddie x fem!Reader

Coming home for spring break means getting to spend an entire week with Eddie. And he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. | Ft. “Fuck, I’ve missed touching you,” + “I’ll do anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”

What I Like About You | SMUT, No one under 18! | Eddie x fem!Reader

You never imagined you would fall in love with Eddie Munson. It was out of the realm of possibility. But here you are. Kind of in love with a guy who’s not your boyfriend. | Ft. “I’m kind of in love with you.”

Hold On | Eddie x fem!Reader

Falling in love with your best friend was never part of the plan, especially when you figured you weren’t Eddie’s type. But a trip home to sub in for a Hellfire meeting brings you more than a victory.