Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The unravelling of your life could be traced back to one pivotal defect of the human condition. Greed.

It was hard to comprehend that your Father; the man who refused to check the hints on a crossword puzzle (he called it cheating), was a crook. A criminal. A fraud. You couldn't make it make sense. Yet you knew it to be true. Insider trading, they had called it, when they hauled him away for questioning, and in that split second you had looked at his face and you had known in your heart of hearts that he was guilty. It had been 18 months since that day, and with the exception of the court hearings, you hadn't really seen him. You couldn't bring yourself to go and visit him once the sentence was imposed. You had started so many letters but never finished them. 18 months was a long time to spend trying to understand how your Father could be a good Father but a bad man. Or was it a good man who made bad choices? Or a bad man with some redeeming characteristics?

The thoughts barreling through your mind quietened for the first time in hours as you passed the sign indicating your arrival into Hawkins. You took your headphones off and stretched in the passenger seat, looking over to your Mom, taking in the tired lines and the seemingly perpetual disappointment etched into her face. Your Father's betrayal had hit her hard. They had met at college in Indianapolis; your Mom having finally escaped Hawkins for the big city, and your Father on a basketball scholarship. It had been love at first sight, they had told you once after one too many glasses of mulled wine at Christmas. His betrayal had cost her everything, and now here she was, backed into a financial corner having to return to Hawkins; the only place you could afford to buy a house after your assets were frozen and then later seized. Your Mom had been offered a position as a nurse in the short-staffed hospital at Hawkins and was gratefully lining up as many shifts as they could throw at her in hopes that she could keep you both afloat on her own.

You smiled at her, trying your best to look excited. You knew how much it weighed on her that you had suffered too. She knew the friends that had disappeared the moment the going got tough. She knew the mockery at school and the quiet smirks as your financial status became cafeteria fodder. She also knew that with your college fund gone, your future had become exponentially more bleak in the last 18 months. But none of that was her fault; so you smiled. You smiled and cranked the radio louder singing along to the Madonna song on the radio in an exaggeratedly out of tune rendition. You saw her start to smile and upped the ante, throwing in your most uncoordinated dance moves until you saw her laugh burst free. Stopped at an intersection she began to mimic you, and you threw down the gauntlet, thrusting your head back and forward like a demonic chicken. Your mother's gaze slid behind you for a moment, then she suddenly stopped her mirroring and began guffawing loudly, gripping onto the steering wheel and hiding her head. You turned around to see what had caused her change of heart, and locked eyes with the long-haired, doe-eyed boy grinning in the van next to yours. You froze, mid-demonic-chicken head thrust. Oh no. Oh no no no no. Not good. You twisted your expression into something that more closely resembled a grimace than the smile you had hoped for and said to your Mom through gritted teeth "for God's sake, drive, Mom!"

Your Mom laughed once more and set off from the intersection, taking you further from the boy who was now openly laughing at your expression.

"He was cute," your Mom said salaciously, knowing full well that you had tried (and failed) to hide your infatuation with the long-haired guitarist from Def Leppard just a year prior.

"Don't start, Mom! I already told you, I'm keeping my head down, and getting through senior year. There's no room in that plan for headbangers and metalheads."

Your Mom's smile started to droop with the reminder of your circumstances. You cursed inwardly at your foolishness, wishing you had held your tongue and let your Mom enjoy the moment a while longer.

You pulled up outside a small house and your Mom turned the engine off. With a deep breath she turned to you and said "alright sweetheart, we can do this."

Inwardly, you weren't so sure, but you smiled and nodded all the same and opened your door to start dragging boxes into the house.

Unpacking was a chore, but at least it kept you busy. You unpacked all of your music first, carefully arranging your tapes in order of preference, before turning to your closet. Your closet was tiny so you pulled out clothes that weren't really appropriate for the colder weather and stored them in a box under your bed. Your sketch books and art supplies came next, stored away on your desk with your study materials and your jewelry box which gave a shrill attempt at a tune as you nudged it with your paintbrushes. The rest you left for tomorrow. You had a feeling that it would be a welcome distraction after your first day at school.

After a quiet dinner with your Mom, both of you lost in your own worlds, you kissed her on the temple and trudged off to your bedroom for the night. Sitting at your desk you began to write your resume, intending to make copies in the school library and drop them at places around town over the coming days. The nice thing about Hawkins and its relative isolation compared to Indianapolis, was that no-one would look at your surname on an application and immediately assume the worst of you. Silver linings. You just had to keep focusing on the positives.

Resume complete, you laid out an outfit for the next day and crawled into bed, switching off your lamp and marveling at the fact that in the darkness you couldn't even tell that this wasn't your old room, in your old house, in your old life.

Hawkins High School was comfortingly average. Large enough to afford you some anonymity and the ability to blend into the crowd at least a little, but not so large that you might get lost and have to ask people for directions. In your classes you introduced yourself at the front of class with as little fanfare as possible and slunk into the nearest available seat with your head down. A few people eyed you with interest, but your commitment to personifying beige in human form had them returning to their previous focus in record time. By lunch, you were almost convinced that it was going to be okay.

Cafeteria politics had always been a source of anxiety for you, but that feeling was magnified given that you didn't even know the rules of the game that you were supposed to be playing. In your old school, though you may not have approved of it, you at least knew where everyone sat and could avoid the metaphorical stepping on toes. But no such luck in a brand-new school. One wrong move could be social suicide, and would ruin your ideas of a senior year spent flying firmly under the radar.

You collected your food and turned from the line, feeling panic start to rise in your throat as your surveyed the tables available. You were taking too long and you could feel people starting to stare at you with interest. You felt heat reddening your cheeks as your breathing grew shallower. You ran your eyes once more over the hall and your eyes locked with a warm, mahogany stare across the room. The metalhead from the van! You felt mortification intensify your blush and began to panic in earnest. He was still looking at you and you saw a brief moment of what looked like indecision pass across his face when he suddenly sprung onto the table and began addressing the hall of students. His voice faded to a buzz in your ears when you realized that he was talking to the room about basketball and its general worthlessness as a pastime. He had saved you. He had seen your panic and deliberately drawn the focus away from you so that you could think. You spotted an empty table in the back of the cafeteria and quickly walked toward it, sitting down and taking a deep breath.

You looked up to see him finishing his performance and his eyes locked with yours as he dismounted the table and returned to his seat. Filled with gratitude, you mouthed "thank you" at him and gave him a small smile. He seemed a little surprised at the appreciation and his cheeks almost seemed to be tinged with pink as he smiled back at you. You broke the eye contact to return to your macaroni cheese and spent the remainder of lunch studiously avoiding looking around at your fellow students and coaxing your heart rate back to a normal level.

You made it through the rest of the school day without incident and as the final bell rang and students began to stream out of the classroom, you felt your posture relax for the first time since breakfast that morning. Slowly gathering up your supplies and pulling your resume out of your bag, you made your way through the rapidly emptying corridors toward the school library. Introducing yourself to Mrs. Haines the librarian, you waited patiently as she made copies of your resume, and dutifully handed over your change. You had mentally made a list of likely places to submit your resume, with contributions from your Mom who knew the town far better than you did. Tonight you would package them into envelopes ready for a delivery spree after school the next day.

With a thank you to Mrs. Haines, you left the library and pushed open the doors to the school, walking toward the bike rack where your Mom's old bike was padlocked. You heard the muffled opening riff of one of your favorite Metallica songs and looked around eagerly for the source. You should have known. Metalhead was staring right at you from the driver's seat of his van, thrusting his head forward to the beat of the music in a poor imitation of your demonic-chicken dance move from the day before. Flames lit your face immediately and you scowled as he laughed and pulled away out of the school and down the road, blasting the music as he went.

With a sigh, you unlocked your bike and began the trek back to your new home, already eager for the comforting embrace of your couch and the dull monotony of the remainder of your unpacking.

As you drifted to sleep that night, you vowed not to let yourself be so easily affected by Metalhead should you see him again. You were sure that if he didn't get a reaction he would soon leave you alone. Which was what you wanted. Obviously. To be left alone. By him. Definitely. Probably.

Chapter Text

The following Monday's alarm greeted you with a particularly irritating fervor. Monday's sucked. You slapped your hand blindly toward the clock on your bedside table and huffed loudly in protest as you levered yourself from the bed and began to slump down the hallway to the shower.

Later, feeling cleaner though no more refreshed, you sidled into the kitchen to grab a slice of toast and saw a note from your Mom on the table indicating her intention to stay a few extra hours after her nightshift, explaining her absence from the breakfast table. As you sat with your toast you began to mentally run through your class schedule, planning which books to take and ensuring that all homework has been completed for the day. Your focus began to wane though, and you felt your brain drift inexorably toward Metalhead™. You weren't sure what it was about it him but try as you might, you couldn't stop thinking about him, or looking at him. Thankfully he hadn't made any more reference to the doomed chicken moment, and his interference on your first day had ensured that you had a standard place to sit in the cafeteria which reduced the potential for awkward interactions with your classmates. You scolded yourself for once again getting lost in thought over a guy whose name you didn't even know, and began to clean up your dishes, readying yourself to set off for school.

The school day began much the same as it had every day of the previous week. You paid attention in your classes, spoke when spoken to, and otherwise blended into the background as much as was possible. Until lunch.

You were sitting at your now customary table and making your way through some powdery mashed potato when a shadow loomed over you from across the table. Your heart rate spiked and you deliberately kept your gaze down, hoping to avoid confrontation and cling to your anonymity. It was a girl who spoke first, and when she addressed you, you could no longer keep pretending that they weren't there.

"Is anybody sitting here? Do you mind if we join you?"

'We' turned out to be the girl; a petite, blonde cheerleader, and a few of her friends, both male and female. There was no way to decline without seeming rude, so you gave them your best attempt at a smile as the five of them began placing their trays on the table. As the girl sat, you locked eyes briefly with Mr. Metalhead across the room who seemed disappointed for reasons you couldn't fathom.

They took turns introducing themselves. The girl who had led the charge; Chrissy, her friends Jason and Patrick, and two others who said hello but didn't offer names. The reason for their arrival at your table became fairly obvious within the first five minutes of conversation. In an attempt to give you the low-down on the societal hierarchy of Hawkins High School, they sought to absorb you into their group, having deemed over the past week of observing you that you were somehow cool enough to be granted access to their ranks. Chrissy was jabbering away about Cheerleader tryouts and how your curves would look fantastic in the outfits. Your hands were twitching in your lap as the one-sided conversation started drifting into dangerous territory. Trips away, meet-ups for milkshakes as a group after games, squad-wide secret Santa at Christmas. You knew from your old life that being part of the upper echelons required a steady access to cash. Cash that you and your Mom definitely didn't have. You were barely keeping afloat as it was, not helped by the fact that you had yet to hear back from any of the places that you had handed your resume to.

You also knew, after having lived it in the wake of your Father's downfall, that an inability to financially conform to the expectations of that group would have you out in the cold in record time. It still stung to remember how the girls that you had confided in, trusted, and loved, had thrown you to the wolves as soon as it became clear that you couldn't afford to participate in the life you had once led. The whispers had started small, but it had taken no time at all for the smiles to turn plastic, your spot at the table to be filled and your place in the school to become untethered and unmoored.

You couldn't do it again. Keeping your head down and flying low wasn't just a strategy, it was a necessity for survival. Nice though Chrissy and her friends may seem, you were all too aware of how fickle their affections could be.

Chrissy finished her tirade and you summoned your most apologetic smile.

"That sounds super cool, but I have an outstanding commitment on those days. It sounds like a lot of fun though, I can't wait to see you perform at games!"

Chrissy's eyes turned frosty, and you could feel Patrick's eyes on you with renewed interest. "I haven't told you when practices are yet," Chrissy said looking unimpressed. Your heart sank, how could you have been so stupid! You desperately tried to bluff a response that you had seen the squad practicing after school one day, but it was clear from the coolness of her expression that she wasn't buying it. Patrick was smirking at you in a way that didn't inspire confidence.

The silence quickly turned awkward and you hurriedly scooped the last spoonful of now-cold mashed potato into your mouth and excused yourself with a rushed comment about needing to see a teacher about an assignment. As you walked to dump your tray you felt eyes on you. You looked up to see The Supreme Headbanger staring at you appraisingly. You returned his stare defiantly, regardless of the residual flush of mortification on your cheeks. He raised an eyebrow in response and quirked his lips into a grin that had you battling to keep your own smile under control. You shook your head slightly to clear it and left the cafeteria, trying to attract as little attention as possible.

Your mind was occupied by the history essay that had just been assigned as you were unlocking your bike at the end of the day. After having detoured via the library to check out the books you would need for your essay, the halls were almost entirely deserted as you made your way outside. You were so lost in thought that you physically recoiled in surprise when you turned around with your bike in hand and saw Patrick standing directly behind you.

"Did I frighten you?" He asked, tilting his head to one side and yet not retreating from your personal space at all. You took a step back, uncomfortable with his proximity.

"Sorry, I was away with the fairies," you said with a forced smile. He took a step closer and alarm bells began to sound in your head. You gripped the handlebars of your bike a little tighter and became increasingly aware that you were against a wall and trapped between bike racks on either side. There was no escape route out of this conversation.

"Why did you lie to Chrissy about cheerleader tryouts?" He asked, still stalwartly blocking your exit. Your heart sank at his desire to rehash the cringe-laden encounter from lunch.

"I wasn't lying," you said hotly, "I knew when they practiced and knew I wasn't available. But either way, I'd make a terrible cheerleader, I'm so clumsy!" You said, with a fake chuckle, trying to draw his attention away from your lie.

He looked at your body for a few long seconds, as your stomach began to squirm uncomfortably. You felt an overwhelming desire to tug your skirt lower and cross your arms over your torso to block more of yourself from his view. "Maybe so," he countered, "but you'd look damned good squeezed into that tight little uniform."

You felt yourself instinctively grimace and watched irritation pass over his face at the unspoken rebuff. He moved to take another step closer and your heartbeat skyrocketed in anticipation of incoming danger, but the tension was cut by a now-familiar voice.

"Everything alright, Tinkerbell?"

Never had you been so pleased to see that riotous mane of hair! "Oh hi! Yeah sorry, I know I'm super late, I was just caught up with Patrick here," you said with false cheer, hoping that he would roll with the fib and give you an excuse to leave. You saw realization dawn in his eyes.

"No worries sweetheart, shall we go?" You shot him a grateful look in response and turned to say a hasty farewell to Patrick when you realized that his face was twisted into a sneer aimed at your saviour.

"You're hanging out with Eddie "the freak" Munson? Are you serious?" You internally cheered at finally having a name for the man who had monopolized your thoughts over the past week.

Eddie was giving Patrick a demented looking grin and you choked down the desire to giggle hysterically at the sheer awkwardness of the situation. "Of course, Eddie and I have a...a thing to do!" You were grasping at straws and all three of you knew it, but it was time for you to make your exit before the situation could devolve any further. "Excuse me!" You said chirpily to Patrick as you almost ran over his shoes with your bike trying to get past him.

Eddie followed you around the corner and out of sight of the bike racks before grinning at you.

"Nice to finally meet you Tinkerbell" he said as you began buckling your helmet and straddling your bike. You rolled your eyes in response and gave him your name. "I like Tinkerbell better, it suits you. All dainty and sweet at first glance but fiery underneath. Don't think I missed you nearly removing some of McKinney's toes back there."

You gaped like a fish, not having a response for how quickly he'd seen through your wallflower routine. For lack of anything to say, you poked your tongue out at him and began to pedal away, startling a laugh out of him.

"What, no thank you?" he shouted after you as you started to pick up speed.

"Thank you Peter Pan!" You bellowed into the wind, hearing him roar with laughter as he processed your response. Smiling to yourself you pedaled home, rolling the name Eddie around in your brain to see how it fit.

Arriving home, slightly out of breath from the wind but nonetheless exhilarated from the exercise, you tried your best to calm your breathing before answering the phone that was insistently ringing from the kitchen.

"Hello?" you huffed into the receiver, cringing at the way the gust of air must have crackled down the line.

"Oh hello, it's Murray from Family Video here, how are you?

Your heart rate picked up once more as you responded and returned the enquiry.

"I'm just calling because we received your resume and I was hoping to offer you a job. One of our staff headed away to college a few weeks ago so we're a man down and the Friday and Saturday nights can be brutal without a full staff."

Your heart leapt in relief at the promise of some minor alleviation of your financial woes. You discussed with Murray your wage and hours before agreeing to ride over after school the next day and sign a contract. Thanking him, you hung up the phone and danced excitedly in your kitchen, feeling properly optimistic for the first time since your arrival in Hawkins.

A job AND a name for your metalhead quasi-friend all in one day! Who said Monday's sucked?

Chapter Text

By the start of October, your life had settled into a comforting routine of school, work, and homework with an undercurrent of household chores, while your Mom picked up every available shift known to man. Your invisible wallflower routine in school was paying off with no more visits to your table at lunch, and nothing more extreme than some uncomfortable staring from Patrick. Eddie, on the other hand, seemed intent on making you the focus of his attention and energy every time your paths crossed. You were thankful that his natural exuberance kept most of the attention that the pair of you received on him instead of you.

He would grin at you between classes when you passed in the halls, and had driven past you as you biked home from school, hanging halfway out the window of his van yelling "BE CAREFUL TINKERBELL!" at the top of his lungs and almost startling you into traffic. Though you'd never outwardly acknowledge it, his efforts to include you in these small ways kept you from feeling quite so lonely. You were committed to the fact that a quiet senior year was the best option for you, but it didn't ease the difficulty of living a relatively hermit-like existence. But his insistence on acknowledging you and maintaining your inside joke of Peter Pan and Tinkerbell kept you going just enough. That was what you kept reminding yourself. It was enough.

Your job at Family Video was, while not exactly intellectually challenging, certainly enjoyable. You shared most of your shifts with Robin and Steve who were a comedy duo made in heaven. Or hell, if it was a quiet shift and you were frantically manning the counter while shenanigans ensued in the back room. You had thought them a couple initially, their easy camaraderie and seamless humor mistaken for romance and domesticity. When you had referred to their status as a couple during closing one night they had paused, looked at one another in unison and began cackling at full volume.

You loved working with them, and had slowly started to open up and include yourself in the humor and contagious fun that the two brought to the job. It was a relatively quiet Thursday night and the three of you were playing a poorly made game of VHS bingo with the returns pile. You each had a messily scrawled card with a different selection of qualities with the first to get all of their boxes ticked by returns coming out of the return pile winning the right to skip toilet cleaning duty at the end of the night. You and Steve were each two away from completion, with Robin trailing behind and complaining loudly to the 'VHS Gods' about her poor fortune in returns bingo. You mentally willed the next VHS out to have either an iconic animal companion or a plot twist featured; the two categories you needed to complete your card.

"Robin, since you're lingering there in last place, do you think you could do us winners a favor and give us a nice drumroll to announce the next draw?" Steve drawled to Robin with a sickly smile. Looking concerned for a moment she leaned toward him, gesturing to something on his face. Knowing what was coming, you bit back a smile, though the laugh burst free when she flicked him on the nose.

"Bad puppy," she said with a wide grin.

It was the third time that week he'd fallen for the same gag and it somehow got funnier every time. Satisfied with her work, Robin begrudgingly slapped her hands on the counter, mimicking a drumroll as Steve (still rubbing the sting out of his nose) reached into the bag and pulled out Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back. Your thoughts raced; did a Wookie count as an animal companion? Surely! If not, then you could argue the droids were essentially pets! And it of course had one of the greatest plot twists of all time!

Triumph coursing through you, you thrust your fists into the air and shouted "BINGO!" to the chorus of groans from your friends, before doing an impromptu and ill-conceived celebratory dance. You were mid-turn for a celebratory shimmy when you came face to chest with Eddie Munson. Goddammit! You'd been asking Murray for weeks to get the bell over the door fixed! You straightened up slowly, with as much dignity as you could muster, trying your best to ignore the sniggers from your colleagues behind the desk.

"I was hoping for your sake that your dancing would improve when you weren't stuck inside a car, but clearly not." He said to you, grinning widely. You sniffed indignantly and turned around to march back toward the counter, glowering at Robin who was making kissy faces at you from behind the desk.

You busied yourself putting away the returns to their rightful places on the shelves while Eddie leaned over the counter, talking to Steve. Robin sauntered toward you with a mischievous grin.

"So how do you know dear Mr. Munson" she asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"I don't," you replied, "I just see him around school sometimes and he's saved me from a few sticky situations."

"Oh, I'm sure he was very interested in seeing you very, very sticky. In those situations, I mean" she said, with her true meaning coming through loud and clear. Your face flamed.

"Did you know he has handcuffs on the wall of his bedroom?" Robin interrupted your stumbling response with a teasing eyebrow raise. You felt your mouth drop open in surprise and heat coursed through you in an instant.

Gathering yourself and trying your best to look unaffected, you responded "How would you even know that?"

"Steve and I went there once way back when. Those things are the reeeeeal deal. Sturdy, you know what I mean? Mmm hmm not getting out of those in a hurry."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked in what you hoped was a calm and puzzled voice. Her face and devilish grin told you that you had failed miserably.

"Don't think I didn't see you staring at his ass before sweet cheeks. There's no way you were looking at Steve "Does This Make My Ass Look Fat?" Harrington, and the only other eye candy by the counter is Munson's munchable tush." You curled your nose up at her phrasing, though you couldn't deny she was right, you had been staring, and that man's ass was divine.

Biting your lip in a moment of contemplation, you took a chance and rushed out "those jeans should be illegal," even as you felt your face warm. Robin bounced on the balls of her feet in giddy excitement and the two of you turned to look at the offending item of clothing. You had never really been one for asses before, but it was a statistical, undeniable fact that Eddie had a glorious one. Perfectly round and pert, and encased in that goddamn luscious denim.

"My eyes are up here ladies," he drawled and you both snapped to attention in unison, shared looks of pure embarrassment on your faces. It took you a moment to realize that he still hadn't turned around. That was when you spotted the mirror behind the counter that Steve used when he was combing his hair mid-shift. Damn. He was grinning at you as you maintained eye-contact with his reflection. A wink had you fleeing and continuing to do your work, fiddling with the computer pretending to look busy.

You had been fake squinting at the screen for a few minutes when a rhythmic clanging of metal on metal disturbed your fake concentration. Stealing a sideways look toward the counter, you could see Eddie's long, dexterous fingers tapping a rhythm on the desk, with the metal of his signature rings making the noise as they struck the metal edge of the counter. You couldn't help yourself. You found yourself fixating on his hands and those rings. The veins in the back of his hands disappearing beneath the thick sleeves of his leather jacket. The talented fingers playing music only he could hear. How did he move them so quickly? With perfect precision, no wasted energy or movement. The errant thought came seemingly out of nowhere. Would his fingers be as talented elsewhere? What would the cold metal of his rings feel like against your throat? Or your inner thigh? Or maybe even your clit. You exhaled shakily and clenched your thighs together, rubbing them softly together out of sight beneath the desk.

He pulled his hands away from the counter, breaking your train of thought, and waved goodbye as he started to move toward the exit. His grin was devilish and you knew in that moment that your momentary infatuation with his hands had not escaped his attention. You panicked and made finger guns at him as he backed out of the store. You could hear him laughing as he entered his truck.

Robin took one look at your awkward finger guns and the blush still marring your cheeks and said "oh, this is going to be fun."

Predictably, Steve hadn't picked up on any of the subtext of the conversations happening in the store that night and was looking to Robin for an explanation that you all knew she wasn't going to give. He huffed in irritation before catching sight of his reflection and yelling shrilly "have I had this spinach between my teeth all night!?"

Robin cackled in response as she grabbed her cleaning supplies and sauntered toward the toilet.

Chapter Text

The fall weather turned bitingly cold as October neared its end. It was a quiet Thursday night at the video store and you were huddled against a heater, refereeing a game of slaps between Robin and Steve that was swiftly growing out of control. To be fair, Steve had really invited the chaos upon himself by telling Robin that she hit like a girl. Robin snuck in a particularly vicious slap that Steve was too slow to dodge, and his howl of pain echoed through the deserted store. Mentally, you began rehearsing what you would say at his funeral. Maybe something like: "Steve's hair always reminded me of Farrah Fawcett". Or possibly: "Steve had many great qualities, but knowing when to shut up wasn't one of them."

The newly-fixed bell above the door tinkled and you craned your neck to see who had entered the store. It wasn't that you were expecting Eddie to come in. Really you weren't! It just...would have been cool if he did!

You watched in amusement that swiftly turned to second-hand embarrassment as Steve leapt to his feet and shouted "HENDERSON!" at the top of his lungs! He half-skipped, half-marched down the center aisle of the store doing a poor impression of a trumpet as he went. You felt an almost feral grin begin to form on your face as you watched Steve engage in the strangest greeting ritual of all time. Wait, was that a lightsaber impression!? You turned, stunned, to Robin, who raised her eyebrows as if to say "what can you do?" You got the distinct impression that this was not her first rodeo.

On closer inspection you noticed that it was actually a small collection that had entered the store; flocking to Steve like some bad approximation of a mother hen. The group was scrabbling over one another to get Steve's attention, obviously excited to share news with him. Steve, to his credit, was patient and enthusiastic, engaging all of them in turn. Not bad Harrington, not bad at all.

The group began to dissipate, spreading over the store. Two girls, one with a bright yellow shirt and the other with pretty red hair, were considering the romance section and looking at the boys still crowded around Harrington with alternating interest and despair. The two oldest of the group wandered over to talk to Robin. You thought you might have recognized the girl from your History class. Nancy? Maybe? The core contingent of four boys stayed crowded around Steve though, discussing with great energy something that sounded like absolute gibberish to you. What was a Vecna? Did they mean vector? Were they asking for help with homework? If so, they were barking up the wrong tree going to Harrington! You listened a little closer, hoping to save them from educational ruin should the need arise, when understanding slowly dawned on you.

They were discussing fantasy characters on some sort of a quest. It seemed that the characters were of their own creation, and they were describing in some detail to a proud looking Steve the intricacies of their creations. You stayed quietly behind the counter and absorbed the wash of noise in the store, so different from the silence and solitude. It was nice, in a way. Comforting. You started to doodle on the pad of paper kept at the computer, your pen tracing mindless paths across the paper. As the details of the conversation began sinking in to your consciousness, you noticed your aimless doodling starting to resemble the characters being described. Pleased, you started paying even closer attention to their words, actively working to incorporate the detail into your sketch.

The characters were taking shape. A wizened mage carrying scrolls and a lantern, back stooped but eyes cunning. You began adding detail around him, letting his lantern fill the cave you were creating with light. Your pen was scratching across the page in wide slashes, adding texture and detail, bringing the rendition to life. This was the best thing you'd drawn since leaving Indianapolis! You paused to consider the value of adding a skeleton hidden in the walls of the cave when the paper was unceremoniously ripped from your hand. Looking up, you blinked owlishly at the bowl cut before you.

"Holy shit!" Bowl cut said, staring at your drawing. "It's me!"

You curled your nose up without thinking; the universal look of disbelief. You were relatively certain that your wise and agile mage didn't have a bowl cut.

"My character, I mean. Will the wise," he said, clearly impressed as he studied the drawing even more closely.

Before you had time to process the migration of the different groups around the shop, they had all beelined for you and bowl cut, taking turns passing around the drawing. Praise filtered in from around the group, with Nancy(?) smiling encouragingly at you as she passed the paper back to you.

"I think we might have history together?" She said, head cocked enquiringly, "I'm Nancy, it's so nice to finally meet you."

The others took her lead, introducing themselves one at a time. You tried to commit the names to memory but going from hermit to hero in point six of a second was really messing with your brain's ability to process. You smiled shyly at them all and introduced yourself.

"Back away nerds, she's ours, we found her first," Robin said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Not one to be outdone, Steve swaggered over to you and slid an arm awkwardly around your waist.

"Yeah, she's been claimed boys, she's team video, not team Hellfire."

You wrinkled your nose in confusion. Hellfire? Standing awkwardly between Robin and Steve in the world's strangest three-way hug, you attempted to divert the conversation away from yourself. You could feel Steve jolting as Robin pinched the arm around your waist. You were surrounded by children.

"How do you all know each other?" You asked, begging Nancy with your eyes to roll with the change of topic.

"Oof that's a loaded question! The boys have been friends since toddlerdom, Mike is my brother, unfortunately, Will is Jonathan's brother, Jonathan is my boyfriend and co-conspirator, El is Mike's girlfriend, Max is a new addition to the gang, Steve and Dustin have a weird homoerotic hero-worship thing going on that no-one really questions, Robin is clearly the brains of the operation, and somehow despite our best efforts, none of us have died yet." The silence that followed her rapid-fire response was broken by a hi five between Robin and Nancy. That was all it took to shake the group from their stupor, with Steve and Dustin talking over one another to refute the homoerotic assertions, Mike complaining at her addition of 'unfortunately' and both Max and El complaining at not being considered the brains of the operation. Nancy looked at you and smiled before rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

Will, the kid with the unfortunate bowl cut cut through the noise by asking about your drawing skills. The conversation went back and forth about how long you had been drawing (most of your life), your preferred medium (charcoal or oils), had you ever drawn boobies (no Steve, stop being a child), before settling on repeated assertions from the boys that you should draw for their Hellfire club.

Eager for the conversation to be over, you said you'd think about it and prayed that they would let it go and move on. Prayers answered; the conversation shifted to movies and upcoming Halloween celebrations. You caught Steve and Nancy having a silent conversation with extensive eyebrow maneuvering. It was obvious that Steve wasn't getting it because Nancy grew impatient, huffed and turned to you with an apologetic smile.

"Hey, so I don't know if you have plans or not, but we always get together around Halloween and watch a bunch of cheesy horror movies, eat candy, tell ghost stories, all that jazz. We'd love you to join, if you're free after your shift on Saturday?"

Steve having obviously clicked as to the intention of Nancy's eyebrow interrogation jumped excitedly on the suggestion. "Oh, dude, yes you have to! I'm hosting this year and my cheesy popcorn casserole is going to be a HIT." The room shuddered in collective disgust at the concept of a cheesy popcorn casserole.

You should say no. You knew you should say no. Fly under the radar, that was the plan. Letting yourself be adopted by a dysfunctional band of goofballs was the opposite of the plan. It was decided, you were going to say no.

"I'd love to."

Well, shit.

The group cheered at your announcement and Robin started writing down the details. Will was asking if he could keep your drawing and Steve was reassuring you that his cheesy popcorn casserole was much nicer than it sounded.

It was loud. And overwhelming. And yet you felt yourself smiling. It had been a long time since you'd felt so genuinely wanted. Not for what you could be, or what you might offer, but for you. Just you. It was nice.

Laying in bed that night, you felt anticipation. Excitement! Plans with friends! For the first time in over a year! This called for cookies. You would need to make a batch of your famous chocolate chip cookies to take with you to the movie night on Saturday. That was non-negotiable. You mightn't have much to offer in a friendship, but you had this. You could offer this. Sugar and art and slaps referee services.

You spent Saturday before your shift baking a triple batch of your cookies. The scent of chocolate and browned butter wafted through the house and you reminded yourself for the fourteenth time that hour that it was rude to make cookies for your friends and then eat the cookies before your friends even knew they existed.

When the cookies had cooled you packaged a few for your Mom to take to work with her, leaving them with a note letting her know you had plans after your shift. Slotting the rest into tupperware in your bag, you set off for work, eager to get the shift done with and the Halloween shenanigans underway.

The shift was abysmal. Halloween plus a weekend meant every Tom, Dick and Fuckface was in store renting a stack of movies, pestering you at the counter every few minutes to check availability of certain titles. Amateurs. Steve and Robin took pity on your having to bike and let you leave early, telling you that most of the gang would already be at Steve's place. Steve grumbled under his breath about his place becoming a playhouse for children, and you laughed, ruffling his hair before setting off into the chilly night.

The bike ride was shorter than the one you would usually take home, though you cycled slower to minimize the trauma your cookies might suffer from over-enthusiastic pedaling. Double-checking the number on the letterbox against the scrawled note in your pocket, you wheeled your bike around to the door, padlocking it to the drainpipe outside. Taking a steadying breath to calm your nerves, you knocked.

The door was flung open and your brain could only process mahogany and so-much-hair. Eddie fucking Munson. Fuck!

Chapter Text

Your smile froze in place. The slow grin curling across his face suggested he had been forewarned about your arrival. He leaned against the doorjamb with his arms folded.

"Tinkerbell!" he said, sounding unreasonably smug, "fancy seeing you here!"

"Yes well, I would say it's nice to see you again but my Mom told me it's rude to lie." The quip was out of your mouth before you could even process what you had said. Your hands flew to your mouth, trying to push the words back in. "Oh shit, I'm sorry, that was so mean I-" He cut you off with a loud laugh, his head thrown back and the strong muscles cording in his neck fully visible in the porch light. You looked at him, embarrassed for your outburst and he smiled at you consideringly before making finger guns at you and stepping back to admit you entrance to the house.

You walked through into the lounge, waving at everyone already gathered on seats and beanbags around the room. The curly haired boy (Dustin?) and the boy with the bowl cut who you were relatively confident was called Will approached you immediately, talking about the drawing that you'd done at the video store. They told you that the drawing had taken pride of place at Hellfire Club earlier in the afternoon. They credited it with fueling their success in a particularly tricky mission, saying they drew wisdom and courage from 'Will the Wise' as they had dubbed him. Truthfully, most of what they said had gone straight over your head, but you nodded politely and exclaimed at what felt like natural points in the conversation.

"You know, if you wanted to join we'd be happy to have you." Eddie's voice came from so close behind you that you jumped in fright at his proximity. Swinging around to look at him, you heard the immediate agreement of the boys at your back. Your eyes locked and for a moment you were tempted. Sorely tempted. But it would be easier to get away with indecision than refusal, so you agreed to think about it, knowing full well you wouldn't be saying yes.

"Alright adventurers, leave the maiden be so she can put her stuff down." The two retreated begrudgingly to their seats and you turned to see Robin and Steve making their way into the lounge, flopping onto the couch without interrupting the stream of their argument. Evidently their discussion from the store as to who would win in a fight between Freddy Kreuger and Jason Voorhees had escalated to a full-blown squabble in your absence.

You opened your bag with a sigh and pulled out your large tupperware container of cookies, shaking them gently before opening the lid and letting the sweet aroma float into the room. There was an almost immediate ceasefire, as both of them turned to you with matching slack-jawed expressions.

"Are those cookies?" Robin asked breathily, looking hypnotized by the sweet treats in your hands.

"Yes. But you don't get any if you don't stop bickering about who would win in that stupid fight, especially when it's OBVIOUSLY Freddy," you said, raising a threatening eyebrow at Steve when he looked ready to protest. When he settled back onto the couch you offered them both a cookie before setting the tub down on the coffee table for easy access. The rest of the group were on them in seconds, with crumbs flying everywhere as everyone surged to get one at once. You had a sneaky suspicion you had seen Dustin bite Mike's hand when Mike had tried to take a cookie Dustin had already claimed for himself.

A little taken aback, you watched in amusement as they each began to devour a cookie. The amusement sharpened into something sweeter and warmer when Eddie whined, low in his throat upon taking his first bite. His eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed and that fucking whine. Your mouth was very dry. Had it always been this dry? Why were you all of a sudden so aware of your mouth!? You watched, hypnotized as his tongue swept his full lower lip, searching for more of the taste.

You swallowed dryly, deliberately looking away. You locked eyes with Robin on the couch who raised an eyebrow at you before half-closing her eyelids in a clear attempt at a sultry expression. You narrowed your eyes at her, sighing and tilting you head as if to say "come on, man, don't give me that crap!" She raised her eyebrows in a poor attempt at innocence, but you saw a wave of mischief pass over her face. She looked deliberately at you, and then at Eddie, and then at every other space in the room which was taken. And then finally, she looked very deliberately at the empty loveseat; the only available seats left in the house. She looked back to you, her triumphant gaze meeting your panicked one. Oh shit. Shit shit shit.

You turned to find Eddie watching you with amusement clear on his face. You couldn't tell how much of the silent conversation he'd understood up to that point, but it was clearly enough. He raised an eyebrow at you challengingly. "Shall we, m'lady?"

You looked desperately to Robin to plead her to swap with you, but she was holding a cookie, mere inches from her face, inspecting it with the kind of concentration that could only be fake. Traitor.

Flashing a pained smile at Eddie you began climbing over the people on beanbags on the floor to make your way to the loveseat settling down as far to the right as you could. Eddie collapsed into the seat next to yours and flicked his head to you, grinning inanely.

It really wasn't your fault, you were just looking at his smile! But you couldn't look at his smile without looking at his lips. They were so full and pouty. It should have been impossible for them to look so soft, right? Weren't guys supposed to be textbook candidates for chapped lips. You were making bets with yourself on how good of a kisser he would be when it dawned on you how long you had been staring at his mouth. Jerking your gaze guiltily up to his eyes, you took in the dilation of his pupils and the pink tinge on his cheeks. Your breathing was shallow and for all the money in the world you couldn't have confidently said anything else that was happening in the room except the two of you. You felt his arm moving, his hand lifted slowly toward his face. His gaze on you never wavered as he slowly drew the strawberry chapstick across his lower lip, back and forth, then the top lip, rubbing his lips together and popping them afterwards, finally breaking your focus.

"Can't neglect your lips Tink, I need these babies," he said with a wink, "want some?"

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

Robin cleared her throat and suggested putting on the first movie; Nightmare on Elm Street, in honor of her victory over Steve. She got up to put the VHS in as Steve jogged through to the kitchen to put his 'casserole' in the oven. He flicked the light off on his way back into the lounge, sinking the room into darkness. It was going to be a long night.

You had seen the movie before, of course you had. But you didn't know if it was the darkness or the fact that you were absorbing everyone else's fear, but it was much scarier than you remembered! You gave a full body flinch when a jump scare happened on screen, and then flinched again when Eddie tapped you on the thigh.

"You alright?" he whispered looking concerned.

You nodded, hoping that he would attribute your blush to embarrassment about being scared rather than the racketing of your heart rate with his hand on your thigh. How were his hands so big? The light from the screen played across his hands, casting shadows over his tendons and prominent veins. An image flashed into your brain of that hand around your throat, rings gleaming and tendons working beneath the smoothness of the skin. He withdrew his hand and settled back on his half of the loveseat while you tried to even out your shaky breathing.

A timer pinged and Steve got up to fetch his casserole, prompting raucous laughter when he emerged in a flowery apron and oven mitts to put the dish on the table. It smelled. Badly. No one moved to try it, so Steve huffed and began ladling the soupy mixture into a dish and tucked in. Why was it so...wet? Dustin looked around in horror, before begging Steve to take the casserole away in fear that the stench would taint your cookies.

Offended, Steve took the piping hot dish onto his lap, wrapped in a towel and began eating straight from the bowl, muttering about "ungrateful idiots with no taste."

Eddie leaned forward and grabbed another cookie while the rest of the group focused back in on the movie, groaning in despair as Johnny Depp's character was reduced to red mist.

Heat prickled up your spine and you felt yourself stiffen as that low moan sounded, close to your ear. He had to be playing this up in an effort to fluster you, right? You chanced a look at him, and he was already looking right at you, his gaze dark. He kept staring straight into your eyes as he moaned again, soft and deliberate as if testing a theory.

Desperate to break the spell, you hurriedly pointed out a spot of chocolate that had escaped is mouth and begun melting just below his bottom lip. Impishly, he started licking at spots that were definitely not where you were indicating. You knew what he was trying to do, but you were NOT going to break. You continued indicating where the spot was while he licked every other available space on his face. A huff sounded and Dustin stood up, marched over, and licked Eddie's face.

"There, you're clean, now shut up!"

He returned to his seat and you spotted the look of abject horror on Eddie's face. You could already hear the years of therapy he'd need to process that kind of trauma! The laugh bubbled out of you and then you couldn't stop, cackling at full volume like a witch on drugs. Eddie's gaze had turned soft as he watched you lose your composure. Most of the group joined in, having realized the ridiculousness of the situation and the sexual tension between you both was finally broken

The last movie of the night was a monster film that you'd never heard of before. The jump scare caught you completely by surprise, and with a loud gasp you instinctively gripped the warm body next to you, burying your head into the warm leather that smelled smoky and a little sweet. Was that weed? His hand stroked the hair on the nape of your neck comfortingly as you continued hiding your face from view. The sounds of screams and pain from the screen alerted you to the fact that it wasn't safe to emerge just yet, embarrassment be damned.

His hand was a warm, comforting weight, you felt safe and secure with him stroking you so reassuringly. His touch was so delicate, softer than you had imagined. The cold metal of his ring brushed the sensitive skin of your neck and you exhaled softly as goosebumps broke out over your body. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered that it was safe to come out.

You emerged, a little ashamed, and refused to meet his eyes. His hands fell back to their position on his knee as you both resumed watching the movie. The light of the TV kept bouncing off the rings on his fingers, distracting you from the movie and drawing your focus continually back to those hands. Goddammit Robin! Why did she have to mention the stupid handcuffs! You couldn't imagine them being for use on him; that strength could never be contained by metal like that, and the sure, precise way he moved his hands spoke of years of fine-tuned control. So, if the handcuffs weren't for him, they must be...nope! Not going there! You determinedly returned your focus to the screen and tried to re-engage in the story.

When the movie was over, a discussion started almost immediately between Eddie and the boys about how they would have fought the monster if it had appeared at Hellfire club. You watched, a little wistfully, from the sidelines as they argued over battle statistics and the virtues over aggressive versus defensive manoeuvres. You hated to admit it, but it did sound fun, even if most of what they said did sound like a foreign language.

The group began to separate with the boys hopping on their bikes back to Mike's for a sleepover, still arguing as they pedaled up and over the hill. Nancy and Jonathan also left, taking Max and El to drop them at home, and Robin disappeared into the kitchen to help Steve with clean up. You could hear the pair bantering about his 'casserole' and cooking skills.

You began gathering your things as Eddie watched you from his seat. You offered him some of the remaining cookies and his eyes lit up, taking a fistful in each hand, looking remarkably like a child at Christmas. Smiling to yourself, you hesitated before asking him as casually as you could manage, "what kind of equipment do you need for this Hellfire Club?

His eyes were assessing and it took a moment for him to respond. "Nothing at all, sweetheart. Everything you need is provided except your imagination. Aaaand given that I've heard how creatively you can insult me, I don't think imagination would be a problem for you" he said with a winning smile.

You rolled your eyes at him, but your heart was racing. Maybe it was possible to have a little of what you wanted. If there were no equipment requirements, then the only costs should be admin costs which were usually fairly minimal. "What's the sign-up fee?" You asked disinterestedly.

Again, he paused a few seconds before responding. "None. Hellfire was a passion project of sorts so it's free for anyone who want to be involved. Not that I think anyone would say no if a hypothetical artist was considering joining and wanted to contribute some sketches to our limited design pool. Hypothetically of course. Or hypothetical cookies which may or may not hypothetically be the most delicious thing that I've ever hypothetically eaten"

You snorted at his overuse of the word, and nodded consideringly. "So, if a hypothetical artist were to hypothetically choose to join, when and where does the club hypothetically meet?" You asked, inspecting your cookie tub with fake interest.

He smiled, widely, knowing he had you. He passed along the details as he walked you out to your bike. He offered you a ride home, uncomfortable with you biking so late at night but you refused. Your Mom may have finished her shift by now and that was NOT a conversation you wanted to have. Your goodbye was a little awkward. You were desperate to avoid a hug for fear you wouldn't let go, but a handshake was too formal and no goodbye would be weird. He held up hand horns, a universal metal music symbol. Relieved at having an out, you mirrored his hand positioning before pressing your hands together, fingers and knuckles touching, though his dwarfed yours.

You stepped away and climbed on to your bike, setting off down the road with a small smile.

"REMEMBER TINK, SECOND STAR TO THE RIGHT AND THEN STRAIGHT ON TIL MORNING" he shouted, probably disturbing Steve's neighbors. You laughed and pedaled up the hill. You were in serious trouble with that one.

Chapter Text

The dream was a doozy. You woke covered in a sheen of sweat and whimpering as you ground your hips into the mattress, desperate for relief. It really had been way too long if your mind had resorted to graphic dreams like that!

As with most dreams, you really weren't sure how it had started. Your first clear recollection was the click of the handcuffs behind your back, securing your hands into place, and the bite of the carpet against your knees. You knew in that way that knowledge appears in dreams, that he was right behind you. A whisper of a breath against the nape of your neck, a waft of that sweet, smoky scent. Oh yes, he was certainly close.

The first brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of your throat had drawn a mewl from you, and you had tilted your chin to grant him access. His hair brushed against your bare shoulders as he unhurriedly kissed a trail from the top of your shoulder up the column of your neck to the corner of your jaw, and back. His pace was slow, the pressure of his lips gentle and teasing. His lips were as soft as you had imagined. Each time his path progressed up your throat your breathing had quickened in anticipation, your back arching in silent demand and goosebumps erupting along the length of your neck. And every time, he would chuckle gently and kiss back down at the same, slow, unhurried pace, quietly driving you wild. You were rubbing your thighs together, desperate for relief from the mounting tension in your core.

He finished another revolution of his path up and down your throat and you braced yourself for the next one, but it never came. Instead, he had licked up your throat to the pulse point at the corner of your jaw, gently sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot. Your hips had rolled instinctively and your exhale had turned into a whine as he began to suck and lick at the spot, worrying it with his teeth and then soothing it with the flat, wet heat of his tongue. You were panting by then, but the desperate reactions of your body did little to hurry him from his determinedly steady pace.

On and on he sucked at the spot, until you could feel the heat of your arousal beginning to run down your thighs. Your frustration was mounting and you longed for more; more sensation, more friction, just more! You wanted his mouth on every inch of you at once.

Just as you were sure you could take no more, he growled against your ear and you felt his hands brush your body from your thighs up the length of your torso, lingering teasingly over your breasts before meeting together to wrap around your throat as he turned your face toward him for the first time. He kissed you. Finally. His lips were soft against yours, and you were powerless to prevent the moan that slipped free as he sucked your lower lip into his mouth, gently nibbling on it before letting it slip free and sliding his tongue into the heat of your mouth. He kept one hand around your throat and the other slid lower, trailing featherlight touches over your body. You tried to buck up into his touch, but his hand on your throat kept your movements limited. He brushed his fingertips over the tips of your hard nipples, down the soft skin of your stomach and down your thigh. On his way back up the maddening trail, he ran his fingers up your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you desperately wanted to feel him. You spread your legs wider, but he brought the hand back up and instead cupped the soft flesh of your breast.

His mouth plundered yours, dominating you as his hand massaged your breast, running his clever fingers in tight circles around your nipple before pinching it gently between his thumb and forefinger. You whined and broke the kiss to arch your back into his touch. The hand around your throat slid down to stroke the inside of your thigh; his lips now taking residence once more on your jaw.

You were trapped in the most delicious purgatory, unable to make him move faster, you could only take what he was willing to give you. His hands played with your nipples with the same focus and dexterity that you knew he used to master the guitar, and his other hand stroked higher and higher up the inside of your soft thigh on each pass.

Using your bound hands behind your back, you felt as much of his body as you could, his warm, hard front pressed against your back without an inch to spare. You moved your hands up the denim of his thighs until you felt him hiss against your neck and press his hard length against your hand.

Unhappy with being rushed, he seemed intent on proving that two could play at that game. On the next pass up your thigh, his fingers didn't stop, trailing right up your lips and pressing the heel of his hand against the top of your mound, giving your clit some much needed relief. You keened, head flung back against his shoulder, you ground your hips into the pressure of his hand, your nipple still being deliciously tortured by his other hand. He kept the pressure steady for you, letting you set the tempo and rhythm. It hadn't taken long for you to feel the sparks of heat build and your orgasm approach. So of course, he pulled away.

You groaned in frustration and he helped you stand before walking you over to the couch. He sat and pulled you down to straddle his denim-clad thigh. You moaned at the renewed contact against your clit and began circling your hips searching for pleasure. He pulled you close and kissed you once more before leaning in to your ear and whispering "a good girl would grind on my thigh until they make themselves come. Are you going to be a good girl for me sweetheart?"

You nodded eagerly and began grinding against his thigh in earnest. His hand gripped the metal chain of the handcuffs behind your back and used them to pull you down more firmly against his thigh, and he rocked his hips in time with your movements.

You could feel your arousal leaking against his jeans and were sure that the wet patch you left behind would be sizeable. While you worked your hips against him, he leaned closer to take one of your nipples into his mouth. Groaning softly, he licked one, then the other, before sucking one into his mouth while he palmed the other with his free hand. You whimpered and ground yourself harder against him. The frustration was mounting; the roughness of his denim was delicious against your clit, but was threatening to become too much if you maintained the speed that you needed to in order to cum. But if you slowed down to ease the oversensitivity, the orgasm slipped out of reach.

Releasing your nipples from the warm, wet heat of his mouth, Eddie leaned close to your ear, blowing gently and sending a shiver up your spine. "Need some help, sweetheart?" He whispered gently against your ear, sucking on your earlobe as he waited for a response. You nodded appreciatively, expecting him to slide his fingers back to your clit. You were wrong.

In a flash, he moved your legs to be straddling his hips instead of his thigh, and began slowly sliding down between your legs, off the couch and onto the floor, leaning his head back until it rested on the couch directly below your pussy. Still adjusting to the change of position, you weren't expecting his hands on your hips pulling you down onto his face from below. You had squealed, loudly, at the first stroke of his tongue against your sensitive clit. Without your hands free to brace yourself, you fell forward, turning your face to the side and burying your shoulders into the back of the couch.

His tongue was relentless. He had found your clit with ease and seemed intent on driving you mad. He flattened his tongue and alternated between broad strokes that covered you from your aching hole to your clit, and more pointed kitten licks right on your abused clit. Your thighs were shaking and you were no longer conscious of the noises coming from your mouth. One of his hands were still on your hip, holding you down against his mouth as he devoured you. The other slid down the curve of your ass and under to collect the juices dripping from your greedy hole.

It took you a second to realize that not all of the noises were coming from you. He was whimpering and moaning desperately against your pussy. His finger traced the edge of your hole and you clenched, desperate for more. He slid it inside you, moaning louder as your wet heat enveloped and squeezed at him. You felt him push deeper until the cold metal of his ring pressed against your flesh. He retreated and returned with a second finger to join the first, and you keened desperately as he curled them to massage the spot that made fireworks burst behind your eyelids. You were gasping for breath, panting and shaking as your body trembled with the onslaught of sensation.

From beneath you he paused his ministrations "Fuck sweetheart, your cunt tastes so fucking good." he ground out huskily, praising you as you clenched around him in response. "That's my girl, so good for me baby," he continued, rubbing that spot inside you more firmly now, never breaking his rhythm. "You gonna come for me sweet thing? Gonna make my face as wet as you made my thigh?"

He pressed his tongue against you once more and you were almost sobbing at the combination of his touch inside you and around you, magnified by your powerlessness. There was nothing you could do but take the pleasure he was giving you. Your eyes began to roll in your head as the pressure inside of you rose higher and higher, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you, an obscene soundtrack to the most intense sexual experience of your life. Oh God, how would you survive this?

BANG!

The car backfiring on your street had woken you and you had had to restrain yourself from screaming in frustration. You were hot, and aroused, your nipples hard and aching beneath your sleep shirt. Grinding your hips against the mattress you had tried your best to finish what your subconscious has started. But it wasn't enough. Try as you might, you couldn't regain the intensity of the pleasure your mind had inflicted on you. The pleasure Eddie had inflicted on you. You rolled over with a huff of frustration and got out of bed to take a long, cold shower.

The rest of that day had been a bust. Try as you might you hadn't been able to focus on anything, your mind constantly flicking back to the way Eddie's mouth had felt on you, your thighs clenching beneath your desk as you tried to control yourself. Lunch was the worst though. Eddie had sat with you for most of lunch talking to you about Hellfire while you desperately tried not to make it obvious what had consumed your subconscious thought the night before. His natural enthusiasm meant he gestured wildly with his hands a lot, his rings appearing in your vision every few seconds as a painfully pleasant reminder. You were so turned on, sitting and listening to his tell you all about different classes and where in the campaign you were. Thankfully, he took your flush and determined eye contact as signs of your engagement with his topic of conversation rather than realizing that you were keeping desperately still for a different reason.

You wondered what he'd say if you interrupted him, then and there, and recounted the dream you had had in all of its excruciating detail. You dismissed the thought before it could take you down the dangerous path of wondering whether he would offer to re-enact it with you. You re-doubled your efforts, widened your smile and nodded encouragingly, counting the minutes until the lunch bell would ring and you could finally return to class where you could fantasize in peace.

Chapter Text

The landscape of your days changed seemingly overnight. Though your group was small, you seemed to encounter them everywhere at school, always ready with a smile and a wave. Nancy sat with you in History and Dustin chatted to you in the library in free period. Mrs. Haines had given you both dirty looks at the ruckus you made laughing at Dustin's jokes. Where a kid that young learned to growl like a seductive Chewbacca you would never know.

Your old lunch table lay forgotten in the corner, having been welcomed into the fray of the Hellfire table. They were weird, and wonderful, and loud, and a million other things that you had never expected to love, and yet you did.

You tried your best not to grow dependent on their kindness and their infectious desire to include you. After all, you knew how fast they could change their minds. But you didn't think they would; it felt different this time. They genuinely seemed to like you for who you were, warts and all. The first time you had laughed at full tilt around Claudia and your friends back in Indianapolis, they had sneered at you and mocked you mercilessly until you had learned to suppress your amusement to a level that they deemed appropriate. With the clarity of hindsight, it was strange to see the rose tint of your former life fall away and shatter on the strong bedrock of your new friendships. Had they ever really liked you? Or were you simply a valuable addition to an aesthetic that they were determined to present. They had never supported your art, and their support of your baking only presented itself when the baking had the opportunity to help them in some way. How many years had you made a cake for the birthday of every member in the group, all on your own dime? Yet, when your birthday rolled around, where were they? Where was your cake? Nowhere to be seen.

You felt the bitterness of disappointment burn in your chest, clenching your teeth in silent fury at yourself. How had you let them shrink you smaller and smaller until you fit in their sad little box? Was that who you were? Was it who you wanted to be?

You knew it wasn't, knew that you had so much to offer. The gratitude you felt toward your new friends rose up inside you to extinguish the flames of your self-directed fury. Whether they knew it or not they had saved you. Encouraging you to be yourself, even when yourself was unflatteringly sarcastic, loud or goofy. You knew that you'd never be able to repay the kindness and what it had meant to you, but you also knew that they would never ask you to. Because to them, you were enough.

You were interrupted from your reverie by Eddie's arrival into the Hellfire room. You had free period for the last period of the day and had sequestered yourself away in the room to study and wait for everyone else to finish up for the day. He seemed surprised to see you there, but his face lit up with a delighted smile.

"Tink! You hypothetically found us!" he quipped at you, unpacking things onto the table in front of you.

You eyed the equipment with interest, tiny figures, some human, some decidedly less so, plus bits that looked as though they would form part of a set.

"My last period is free period today. It's not long enough to bike home and back so I thought I'd chill here and wait for you guys to finish." You said with a laugh. "Is that all good? I don't want to be a nuisance?"

He looked pleased "No way, I have free period now too! Are you telling me I've been smoking up in my van when I could have been here with you. Damn sweetheart, way to make me regret my life choices." He said the last part with a wink to make it clear he was joking. In truth it hadn't even occurred to you that one of the others might have free period now, but the idea of having a whole period with Eddie each week, chilling in this dark room made your pulse erratic with equal parts excitement and anxiety. You couldn't possibly hope to keep your cool around him with that kind of prolonged one-on-one exposure.

"It's actually a good thing you're here early, we should probably work on setting you a character up before everyone else gets here." He said, grabbing the chair next to yours and swinging himself into it, pulling it in so close that your knees were pressed together beneath the table. He didn't pull away. Neither did you.

He pulled a sheet out of his bag and a pen that was so badly chewed you wondered how it still functioned. He saw you looking at it and quirked the corner of his mouth up in apology "yeah, I know, it's bad. I have an oral fixation." Your face lit up in flames at the word oral. He couldn't have picked a worse word to use after your dream the week prior. Clearing your throat and waving his apology away, you gestured him to explain the sheet before him.

Thankfully he had missed your internal crisis and instead began explaining the process of building a character; which aspects you chose yourself, which you left to the dice. He was patient and kind, answering your questions and giving you thorough explanations of the different classes and their benefits and drawbacks.

You settled on a rogue elf, liking the idea of working in the shadows like a ninja.

"What are you going to be called?" Eddie asked, ticking some boxes on the sheet.

You paused to think for a moment before smiling softly. "Tinkerbell." He grinned openly at you, pleased with your answer, and jotted it down in surprisingly neat handwriting.

When the bones of the character were built, he handed you a selection of dice and gave you an order in which to roll them. One by one you tossed the dice on the table, watching his expression become increasingly unreadable. You had no concept of what the numbers meant, and assumed he was concentrating on the calculations.

"Another 2!?" He said with a humorless laugh. "You must be the only person who can roll 2 four times with a 20-sided dice."

"Is that good?" You said, looking at him hopefully. He studied your face for a moment.

"Yeah sweetheart, it's really good." He smiled encouragingly and gestured for you to roll your final dice. It toppled across the table, settling with a single 1 facing upward. He huffed a laugh beside you, and scrunched his eyes closed for a second, still smiling.

"Did I do okay?" you asked him, a little unnerved by his reactions.

"Darling, you did perfectly. Let me just try to do some math here, gimme a sec." He began scribbling furiously on a spare sheet of paper, then jotted numbers down into several of the boxes on your sheet.

He walked you through what the figures meant and explained that the large numbers would benefit you in the quest. It seemed you really had gotten exceptionally lucky with your rolls. He scaled your numbers to increase your level to be comparable with the others in the group and gave you a crash course in how to work your character, though he assured you that either he or one of the other Hellfire members would help you every step of the way until you found your feet.

He rummaged in his bag once more and emerged with a carefully folded piece of fabric. "I almost forgot, you need your club uniform" he said, handing you what you assumed was the iconic Hellfire Club shirt. You beamed at him and quickly tugged off your jumper to slide the shirt on over your singlet. You turned around to gauge his reaction and found him staring at you, expression dark. "You look good in my clothes, sweetheart."

Mike's entrance into the room prevented you from responding, and the room was soon filling with all the members of Hellfire club, settling in to their spots on the table and asking you questions about your character. They were impressed with your stat rolls, bemoaning some of the terrible luck they'd had when rolling to start their own characters. You sympathized as best you could but the conversation was cut short by Eddie clearing his throat at the head of the table.

You saw the scene he had set up with pieces of set and some figurines and you grabbed a pen and paper, quickly sketching the shapes for reference later while Eddie began explaining the scenario.

It was incredible. The most fun you'd had in years! Sitting at the table with nothing but your imagination and Eddie's voice, and yet your heart was beating out of your chest at times with just how real the threat felt. You knew he had taken it easy on you, ensuring that none but the lowest level of monster ever attacked you and giving you hints that the others didn't get about where you could investigate for more clues in the room.

It floored you to watch him in that role. Eddie never wanted for charisma, or for energy, but seeing him at the head of the table was the first time you had seen him properly look as though he fit in his skin. The manic energy settled into pure control and self-assuredness, dominating every square inch of the imagined land with well thought-out strategic moves and a perfect counter for your every attempt at foiling him. He moved across the space like a dancer, dividing his attention across the many areas, rolling dice and making calls, beckoning you with open arms into the heart of his world. It was magnificent. He was magnificent. It was clear he was cleverer than he wanted to admit, and deeply creative, but he was also sweet; answering your questions and making suggestions for how you could engage or disengage. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, that much was clear. And you had. You left the room, skin still buzzing in excitement and heart giddy from the success of Tinkerbell's entry into the campaign. God, did you really have to wait a whole week to do that again!

The hand on your arm caught you by surprise as you walked down the hallway toward the exit. Your heart leapt for a moment thinking it might be Eddie wanting to continue your conversation that Mike interrupted. You swung around, smile already lighting your face, but the smile soured when you realized it was Patrick that had accosted you.

You wrenched your arm out of his grip and he put his hands up as if to assure you that he meant no harm.

"I just wanted to talk," he assured you. "I wanted to say I'm sorry about the other day. You're new here and you obviously don't know any better, but those freaks you've befriended are bad news." You rolled your eyes and turned to walk away. His hand on your shoulder swung you back to face him and you scowled in response. He really needed to learn to keep his hands to himself. "I don't know if you just have low self-esteem or something, but you're too hot to be hanging out with losers. Come sit with us at lunch tomorrow. I promise I just want to be friends, but you deserve to be friends with people that are going places in life."

You saw red. How dare he insult the people that had made you feel so at home here.

"Gee, thanks Patrick," you responded with a sickly-sweet smile, "I sure am glad to have such a big strong man looking out for me since I'm too stupid to do it myself!" His chest, which had started to puff up at the start of your sentence, quickly deflated and his stare turned murderous. You couldn't help yourself; you were on a roll and stopping would have been impossible. "I just don't have enough room up in my brain for self-esteem, it's too full with my two brain cells and my extensive catalogue of sexual fantasies about you" you simpered, giving your best impression of a porcelain doll's blank eyed stare. "Lucky for me though, you don't have all those pesky brain cells taking up space, so you have all that extra room for trying to dictate my choices!" You flipped him the bird and dropped the smile and the simpering act. "Let me be clear, ass-hat. I would rather give head to a cactus than have to spend another moment in your delightful company. Get it through your head. I. Am. Not. Interested."

You turned to leave, elated with having finally spoken your mind and refused to conform to the expectations of the 'popular crowd'.

The push, when it came, took the air from your lungs with its sheer force. You hadn't been expecting a physical retaliation and it was clear in the way your body crumpled, ankle twisting painfully on the way down. You gave a sharp cry as you hit the ground, looking up to see Patrick grinning at you coldly.

"Well, I guess you were right, you're too clumsy to be a cheerleader. I would say you should get up off the floor, but that's where dirty trash belongs." With that he turned and swaggered back down the corridor and around the corner out of sight.

You pulled yourself up to sitting and tried to stand, hovering your injured foot off the ground. Holding the locker nearest to you for support, you delicately began putting more and more weight on it, trying to see if it could weight bear. With relief you noted that weight-bearing was tender but manageable. Definitely not broken then. You took a step and hissed in pain as your ankle tried to bend. Not good. Biking would be impossible if you couldn't bend your ankle without excruciating pain. You mentally calculated how long it would be until your Mom finished work and debated whether it would be worth calling her from the payphone and asking her to give you a ride home.

You decided against it, knowing full well your Mom would panic and leave the shift early to come and get you; something you both knew she couldn't afford to do. With a sigh and a pronounced limp, you began hobbling to the bike rack. You would have to walk the bike home, using it as a crutch of sorts to offset the impact of the walk on your ankle. Or maybe you could sit on the seat with your bad foot off the ground and just scoot yourself along with your good leg? That might work?

Unlocking your bike, you strengthened your resolve, and set off for home.

Chapter Text

Your ankle was throbbing with every limped step. You had only made it a few hundred meters from school and you were already exhausted, the pain wearing you out as much as the small hill you were currently ascending. You reassured yourself that you'd be able to take a break by sitting and scooting as soon as you hit the crest of the hill, and redoubled your efforts.

The rattle of a loud engine began creeping up behind you and prayed that it wasn't Patrick coming back for round two. You didn't think you'd survive if he decided to push you over with his car this time.

The engine began to slow down as it approached you and you limped faster trying to get to the top of the hill faster so that you could free-wheel down the other side and hopefully put some distance between you and whoever it was that was behind you. The engine stopped and a door slammed, with footsteps crunching the gravel in a jog toward you. You swung around, frightened, ready to scream if it was Patrick. The air left your lungs in a gush of relief at the sight of Eddie's concerned face coming toward you.

"Are you ok? Why are you limping sweetheart?" He questioned, stepping closer and taking the bike from you, laying it down on the gravel so he could talk to you unimpeded. You didn't know if it was delayed shock, or exhaustion, or just the manifestation of your overwhelming relief, but you burst into tears and flung yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. His strong arms came around you and held you close, one around your back and the other curled protectively around the back of your head.

He stroked your hair as you cried, never interrupting you, just holding you tight and letting you know you were safe until your tears dried to sniffles. When your breathing had evened out and you seemed to have mostly recovered, he kissed the top of your head and asked you what happened.

"It was my own fault," you mumbled back at him, "Patrick cornered me after Hellfire and said some really nasty things. I was just so angry, Eddie. He was so mean about you, and the gang. I said some horrible stuff to him and walked off but I must have gone too far. He pushed me over and I hurt my ankle on the way down." With that the floodgates opened and you told him about your dilemma of not being able to call your Mom, but your ankle was really sore and you were so tired and it looked like it was going to rain and you were just really sad. Everything that had been bothering you poured from you like a wound that had been lanced by the mere comfort of his presence. All the while he held you close, listening and absorbing. You had felt him hold you tighter as you told him about Patrick and the awful things he had said to you.

He kissed you once more, softly, on the top of your head and pulled you away from his chest to look at your tearstained face. Suddenly aware of what a mess you must look like, you rushed to wipe your face, conscious of the probable mascara tracks down your face and the mess you must have made of his shirt. You saw the black, damp smudges on the white of his shirt and cringed in apology. He tilted your chin up, asking you silently to look at him.

"You hop in the van and get off that ankle. I'll put your bike in the back and drive you home and we can get you set up at home with some ice and some TV and your Mom can sort you out properly when she gets home." You blinked at him, unaccustomed to the authority in his tone. "Non-negotiable" he said, misinterpreting your lack of response for protest.

You nodded weakly and hobbled over to the van. He helped you climb in and reached across you to buckle you in, citing the stiffness of the buckle as his reasoning for not letting you do it yourself. While you sat and inspected the mess of your face in the rear-view mirror, he picked up your bike and loaded it carefully into the back of the van, strapping it down with some straps he had in the back to stop it from sliding around as he drove.

Hopping in the driver seat next to you, he gave you a small thumbs up and started the van. The music immediately began to blare and you flinched in surprise. He moved to turn it off. "No, please, I love this song," you said, intercepting his hands as they moved toward the button. "Is it ok if I just turn it down a little?" you asked. He looked a little stunned, but nodded nonetheless and you adjusted the knob to a more comfortable volume.

He pulled out into the road, driving more carefully than you had ever seen him attempt. You rested your head against the window, relishing the cool vibrations, and hummed quietly along with the song.

"Alright Tink, apart from 'second star to the right' I really don't know where I'm going" He said in an obvious attempt at levity.

"Don't forget 'straight on til morning'" you responded with a watery smile. He grinned back at you, clearly relieved that you were still capable of humor.

"Ah of course, my mistake." He countered, with a wink, before redirecting his focus to the road.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, only broken by your quiet directions to your house. You tried not to feel ashamed at directing him to pull up in front of the shabby house. It was clear he had read your discomfort in the tense lines of your body.

"Man your house is twice the size of my trailer! I would be jealous but I'd wager your house doesn't have my sweet guitar, so overall I still think I'm winning." It was such a stupid comparison to make that it startled a small laugh out of you, and he grinned, triumphant at having brought you even a moment of joy. He came around to help you out of the van, reaching across to unbuckle you. You ignored the stab of heat in your groin at having his arms around you. You turned in your seat and began tentatively reaching your foot down to the footstep on the side of the van. He surprised you by leaning in, putting his large hands on either side of your waist and gently lifting you down, settling you securely on the ground and only letting go when he was sure you were stable. He seemed embarrassed. "I just didn't want you to fall," he explained.

You began to hobble toward the front door as Eddie unbuckled your bike and began following you toward the stoop. You indicated that he could leave the bike on the porch and unlocked the front door, heartrate spiking when he followed you in and you realized that you were home alone with the object of your sexual and romantic fantasies. He took stock of the layout of the house, finding his way to the kitchen to start breaking ice cubes into a tea towel as you limped toward your bedroom, sucking air through your teeth in relief as you levered off your shoe and slid onto your bed. Elevating your now swollen ankle felt much better almost immediately, and you settled back against the pillows, quickly scanning the room to make sure there was nothing on display that could cause you instant mortification. You had just satisfied yourself that all was well when Eddie entered your room, quickly looking around in poorly concealed fascination at the barren walls of your small room. He rolled the top of your sock down to stop the elastic digging into your swollen flesh. He gently probed his fingers into your ankle, noting the spots that made you flinch, and rotated the joint slowly. Nodding to himself he placed your foot back on the bed and wrapped his makeshift ice-pack across your ankle.

"What's the verdict doc, will I live? you asked teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Oh I have no idea," he responded with a wry grin, "I'm just an opportunist with a foot fetish."

You squawked a laugh in surprise and his eyes lit up. He made himself comfortable on the foot of your bed, being careful not to jolt your ankle in the process.

Your smile faded and the silence turned contemplative as you once again began replaying the afternoon's events in your mind.

"Patrick is a dick." You said, staring at your puffy ankle.

Eddie gritted his teeth. "Sweetheart, I'm gonna have to ask you real nicely to stop talking about him because my self-control isn't strong enough to keep me from turning up at his house and beating the daylights out of him for laying a hand on you."

Your eyes widened. "Sorry..." you whispered, trailing off uncertainly.

He immediately looked contrite "I'm not angry at you darling, I just hate that he did this to you."

You shrugged softly. "There are assholes everywhere Eddie, he isn't the first and I doubt he'll be the last. The kids back in Indianapolis may not have fought with fists but they could dismantle your life at the drop of a hat if they wanted to."

With gentle questions and his warm, open expression, Eddie drew the whole story from you: your Dad's betrayal, your Mom receding into a shell, the financial woe, the response of your so-called friends back home.

"It's just so hard." You said, voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I loved my Dad so much, you know? He taught me so much about the kind of person I want to be and now I don't know what to trust or what to think. So much of who I am is because of him, so how can I hate him for what he did without hating myself too."

Eddie considered for a moment, fiddling with the corner of your blanket before he responded. "Maybe things aren't as black and white as you think they are, princess. Not all good people make good choices all the time. Just like not all bad people make bad choices all the time. We're human, TInk. We're flawed, and fickle, and fucked-up, but if you ask me, I don't think it's fair to reduce someone down to nothing more than the worst thing they've ever done. Maybe you don't have to love all the things about your Dad to be able to love and appreciate the gifts he gave you and the things you learned from him. Maybe...maybe he doesn't have to be perfect to be worthy of your love."

He seemed lost in thought by the end of his speech and you both sat in a thoughtful, comfortable silence. Maybe he was right. You could accept that he had hurt you, and your Mom, while also acknowledging that he had been an incredible loving and generous Father for just about every other moment of your life to date. You wondered privately whether your reaction would have been so strong had your financial status not been the subject of such intense mockery at school.

Eddie interrupted your thinking by asking if you needed anything, saying he needed to head home if you didn't want him crashing on the foot of your bed like an overgrown Labrador. You shook your head with a smile, ignoring the way your stomach tightened at the thought of a sleepover with Eddie. He stood, stretching his hands above his head so his shirt rode up, flashing the pale skin of his stomach, the tantalizing shadow of his hip bones as they dipped below the waistband of his jeans.

Ruffling your hair and smiling at you, he walked backwards out of the room. You laid your head back on the headboard of your bed and tried to calm your breathing. Flinching in surprise and then pain when a moment later he poked his head around the doorframe and said "Be waiting outside at 8:05 tomorrow Tink, I'll be taking you to and from school until your ankle's healed."

With a last wink he disappeared down the hallway. This time, you waited until you heard the snick of the front door closing behind him before you allowed yourself to melt.

Chapter Text

Christmas snuck up on you, and the week before winter break found you in a mild panic about gift protocol for new friends. It would be awkward if they got you something and you had nothing to give them in return. But you didn't want to make them feel awkward if you gave them gifts and they hadn't gotten you anything.

Inspiration struck in the middle of English one day. Mr. Halder was addressing the class on the symbolism of food in Madame Bovary when it hit you. Of course! Your cookies had been such a hit at Halloween! They were relatively inexpensive to make, and if they weren't the gifting type you could tell them that you had inadvertently made too many and that they would be doing you a favor by taking them off your hands. Perfect!

Mind made up, you detoured by the store on your way to your shift that night, picking up butter, brown sugar, eggs, a few cheap tins to deliver them in, and splurged a little on the better-quality chocolate for once. Walking back down main street you stopped as you walked past the second-hand store. Backing up a few steps, you looked closer at the window, trying to work out what it was that had captured your attention on your first pass.

It took you a while to spot it, hidden amongst a kitschy display of hats and umbrellas in every possible pattern of paisley. But there it was. An old, off-white guitar strap, slung around a beat-up looking guitar. Hesitating for a moment, you weighed up the likelihood of being able to follow through on the plan that was kindling in your mind. Deciding it was worth a shot, you pushed open the door to the store and shook off the sleet from your boots on the mat. Walking further into the store, you sneezed as the dust assaulted your nose, squinting to see in the dim light of the crowded room. Spotting what looked like a shop assistant toward the back of the room, you tentatively made your way through the store, clutching your shopping bag in front of your chest, desperately trying not to bump into anything lest you knock over a mountain of merchandise and accumulate hundreds of dollars' worth of debt.

"Excuse me," you called out, catching the attention of the young woman affixing price tags to a stack of lampshades. She turned to you with a smile.

"I was just walking past and saw the guitar in the store window. It's a long-shot, and I completely understand if the answer is no, but I was wondering if it would be possible to buy the guitar strap that's on the guitar, just on its own?"

"The white one?" She asked you, moving past you toward the window display. You nodded in assent as she began unwinding the guitar from the mannequin. She assessed it carefully before deciding.

"I can't see any reason why not, the guitar isn't likely to go any time soon and I can't imagine the strap being the deciding factor. Not to mention, if they want a strap we have others we can put with it for sale, this one isn't unique to the guitar at all." You felt cautious elation rise in you.

"What would the cost be?" You asked, praying that the answer wouldn't derail your plans.

"Five dollars?" She asked, assessing the quality of the strap.

"Sold!" you said, excitedly, ideas already forming in your mind.

You paid for your purchase and left the shop, continuing your trek in the cold over to the video store. It was a quiet shift; one of the few that you had without Robin or Steve. Dan kept mostly to himself, and with the cold weather keeping most people away, you had a quiet shift to plan the gift preparation you would need to do over the coming week.

You sat at the desk and set several sheets of paper in front of you, marking the length of the strap, and taped them together before tracing the width of the strap and ruling the line across all of the sheets. Finally, you cut out the template, giving yourself a paper copy of the strap you had purchased. Satisfied with your arts and crafts, you sat down and began to sketch. There were key things you knew you wanted to include. Characters from your Hellfire campaign, renditions of some of the villains and monsters Eddie had pitted you all against, album cover art from some of his favorite bands. You added the key features first before sketching in background details that threaded the art together into one long mural type piece. You bit your lip as you sketched one of the key features. It was a sassy looking Tinkerbell with your hair, shooting finger guns at Peter Pan, who had a full head of metal-worthy hair. You really hoped he would see the humor.

By the end of the shift, you were satisfied with your work, making mental notes about other details you would add when you started transferring the design onto the strap. You racked your brain trying to recall where in the house your fabric paints had gone. You had bought them for a fundraiser for the cheer squad back in Indianapolis, and you were sure you hadn't thrown them away.

You and Dan finished the close of the shop and you carefully rolled your makeshift strap and tucked it away in the bottom of your bag lest it get ruined by rain seeping through your bag. Then, saying goodbye to Dan, you jumped on your bike and began cycling home.

The longest part of the process was going to be the outline of the designs. The shading and color work would be easier, like a coloring-in, when the outline was done. You soaked the strap in bleach, hoping to get it as clean as possible before you started, and began hunting in the still-packed boxes in search of your paint. You found them about half an hour later, breathing a sigh of relief that the contents hadn't dried up since you last used them. Rinsing the strap and smiling at the wonder of what a good soak had done to it, you left it to dry and went to bed, a plan now firmly set in your mind. Having only four days left until school ended for winter break, you were on a serious time crunch. It was Tuesday by that point; you knew the cookies would need to take up all of Thursday night to be ready and still fresh to give to everyone on Friday at school. That meant you needed to get all of the outline done on the strap that night, and on the following night tackle all of the color work. It was a big ask, but you were dedicated.

Putting a small heater on your desk so that your fingers didn't seize in the cold, you cracked your back, and set to work. The lines came easily, even when your eyes started to blue from tiredness. It was the exhaustion that you blamed for writing in the tiniest hand you could manage "I heart Eddie" in no less than seven locations around the strap.

It was Friday morning and you were exhausted, but pleased. The strap had turned out even better than you had expected, the details crisp and shading realistic. The template had been a great idea - saving you a lot of time when you began actually working on the strap. Your cookies had turned out perfectly and, after having gotten up a little early that morning, had been split into tins with a bow wrapped around them. The strap you folded carefully and put into a small box with a ribbon that you had saved from a birthday a few years prior.

The fates had aligned that your Mom was due to finish her nightshift and arrive home just as you were leaving for school. So instead of biking that day, she would take you and you would walk home afterward.

Distributing your gifts at school filled you with joy. You had forgotten how good it felt to just give with no expectations. You tracked down your new friends one by one to deliver them your gift and wish them a merry Christmas. They were ecstatic with the cookies, vowing by and large that they wouldn't survive until the end of the day. You were filled with warmth at the kindness of the gifts you received in return. The boys, El, and Max had gone in for a new set of drawing pencils for you, Will shyly suggesting that you could take them for a test drive by practicing some more of Will the Wise if you wanted to. Nancy and Jonathan had had a similar thought as you and you swapped your tin of chocolate chip cookies for a tub of homemade gingerbread which smelled heavenly. Robin had given you a Def Leppard poster, having obviously remembered the crush you had mentioned at work a few weeks before.

You left Steve's in your bag to take to work that night, which just left Eddie. The only period you shared was free period, and he had been serving detention at lunch and so was absent from your usual table. In your free period, you trekked out in the cold to the parking lot to see if he was in his van. No dice. You were running out of time! You knew that kids had mentioned a smoker hangout in the woods next to the school where there was a picnic table they liked to frequent. It was a long-shot, particularly with the weather as bitterly cold as it was, but you were desperate and time was of the essence.

It didn't take as long to find him as you had expected. He was laying on his back on the picnic table, making snow angels and sticking his tongue out to catch errant flakes on his tongue. You breathed a sigh of relief and whistled to get his attention. He sat up, his confusion turning to elation when he realized it was you.

"Tinkerbell!" He shouted, "what are you doing out here? It's cold, your nose has gone all pink, like a tiny bunny." You huffed a laugh, having never seen him high before. He looked happy and content, for once rid of the fidgety energy that seemed to plague him.

For the first time since the idea had crossed your mind, you felt anxiety about handing over the strap. The cookies were fine, you knew he'd like those, but what about the strap. What if he hated it? What if he already had one that he was really attached to and felt awkward having to use yours instead? So many nightmare situations crossed your mind and his smile drooped as he watched your fears play out across your face.

"Tink? You ok? Kinda freakin' me out here" he said with a small laugh.

You took a half a second to remind yourself that you were being stupid. This was Eddie, he'd never hurt you, never been anything less that incredibly sweet to you. You had no reason to believe he'd be awful to you even if he didn't like it.

Swinging your backpack off and placing it on the picnic table bench between his spread legs, you looked up at him and said "I've been looking for you all day you know, and my nose is only pink because I'm out here in Siberia looking for you instead of inside where it's warm! But I have your Christmas present here and I needed to give it to you and this was the only time I knew I'd be able to catch you before school lets out."

His interest pricked at the mention of presents and he made excited grabby hands toward your bag. His excitement intensified when he identified the tin.

"No one puts anything in those tins except cookies sweetheart, and I swear to Satan that if you've lead me astray by not filling this tin with those delicious cookies from Halloween I will NEVER recover." He unwrapped the bow and flung the lid off, keening high in his throat like a wounded animal when he saw the cookies nestled inside.

Looking you straight in the eyes he spoke in a solemn, serious way that undercut the excitement of a moment prior. "I love you."

Your cheeks pinked and you rushed to move on before he could pick up on your reaction. "Don't blow your load too fast there, Peter Pan, there's more."

Your hands trembled slightly as you handed over the small box. As if he could sense that this moment was important, he accepted the box carefully, and gently undid the bow and removed the lid. He said nothing as he pulled the strap from the box and unrolled it, inspecting it inch by inch with a look of pure wonder on his face. You could see his smile widen as he caught sight of different details you had added along the length of the strap. It was obvious when he reached the segment with your Tink and Peter, as his smile grew so wide that it looked almost painful, creasing his cheeks. After thirty long seconds, he rolled it carefully back up, placed it in the box on the table beside him, and jumped down onto the ground. He wrapped you instantly in a hug, holding you against the hard warmth of his chest.

"Thank you" he said, raggedly against your hair.

After a long moment, he pulled away and looked at you, his expression indecipherable.

You heard the school bell go off in the distance.

"Fuck!" you shouted in unison, grabbing your bags and running through the snow back toward the school.

You didn't see him for the rest of the day, but he was waiting against your locker when you emerged from your final class.

"Your bike isn't in the rack, how are you getting home?" he said, leaning nonchalantly against the metal.

"Oh, my Mom brought me today so I could carry my cookies. I'm walking home though, she's working until late."

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder he ushered you toward his van.

"Nah uh sweetheart, hypothermia is not in your color wheel, not gonna happen." You spluttered in protest as he manhandled you into his van, once again reaching around your body to fit the seatbelt, his hand grazing across your thighs in the process. It didn't escape his notice how you clenched your thighs together at the contact.

The drive home was more animated than usual, you assumed his residual high mixed with the excitement of a two week break from school had made him a beacon of unadulterated glee.

Pulling up outside your house, his hand shot out to stop you from undoing your seat belt.

He licked his lips nervously before speaking. "With the bell earlier I didn't get a chance to say that I got you a gift too. You don't have to pretend to like it or anything, I know it's kinda stupid. It's just that it seemed like you'd been enjoying playing D&D with Hellfire and I thought maybe this might be a nice memento? But anyway, it's stupid, so yeah..." he rambled nervously, producing a small box from the pocket of his leather jacket.

The miniature was intricately painted; a perfect capture of your design for Tinkerbell in 3D form.

"I just thought it might be nice? Everyone else has one that they can use and you've just been using a random one to mark your space you know? But like I said, no big deal if you don't like it I-" You had cut him off by flinging yourself across the center console and wrapping your arms around him.

"It's perfect" you whispered into his hair, squeezing tightly, hoping to convey how much the gift and his efforts to include you had meant to you. "I'll treasure it always" you said, pulling away and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. His face was a bright pink, but his smile was pure joy.

"Happy Christmas" you said softly, before undoing your belt and sliding out of the van. You waved and walked to your door. He was still sitting in his van staring after you when you closed the door.

Chapter Text

Christmas rolled into New Year with relatively little fanfare and before you knew it you were packing your bag for the first day back at school. You were excited to get the week underway even if only because you knew that on Saturday night there was going to be a party for Steve's Birthday. It was strange to be approaching a return to school with excitement and anticipation as opposed to dread. You liked it.

Monday morning's classes flew by, with introductions to new units taking up most of the lesson and very little actual learning taking place. But it was lunch that you were excited for. You hadn't seen Eddie since exchanging your gifts on the last day of school before Christmas break, and you were anxious to see him again. You grabbed your food in the cafeteria and made your way to the usual table, sitting down with Dustin and Lucas to discuss their winter break and what direction they thought the Hellfire campaign would take after the gripping climax of the previous semester.

You heard Eddie's laugh approaching and tried your best to control your rapid heart rate. He sat down mid-conversation with Gareth, the two of them poring over a magazine with a scantily clad woman wrapped in studded leather and chains astride a motorcycle. Heat flooded your face at the image, and you looked away, redoubling your efforts in your conversation with Lucas about what incredible thing his sister had said to him over summer. You couldn't understand why you felt something akin to disappointment curl in your gut. You couldn't understand it. He had done nothing wrong. He hadn't even spoken to you yet. Was that the problem? He hadn't immediately dropped everything to talk to you? That couldn't be it, you weren't that girl.

A hand waving in front of your face startled you from your reverie and you apologized to Lucas, explaining you'd just had to mentally go over your work schedule for the week. Looking away from Lucas, Eddie caught your eye from the other end of the table. He lifted his hand and waved at you, smiling brightly. You smiled back and lifted a hand in recognition before returning to your conversation.

Something still didn't feel right. You couldn't put your finger on it.

The feeling stayed with you for the rest of the day and most of the following two days. It was only during lunch on Wednesday that you finally figured out what had you feeling so out of sorts. It had been a split-second motion that had caught your eye. The girl had dropped her fork next to your table and her short skirt had ridden up her thigh as she bent to retrieve it. It was nothing, a mere second of disruption, yet it clarified your swirling thoughts in an instant. You had seen Eddie's gaze slide along the exposed length of her legs with interest, and had instinctively gripped your own, much longer skirt, and tugged at it self-consciously.

Oh. Now that you knew what you were looking for, identifying the feeling was easy. It was the same undercurrent of shame and not-good-enough that had steadily punctuated most of your high school experience before moving to Hawkins. You'd never quite been enough, in Indianapolis. Never quite demure enough, never quite funny enough, never quite sweet enough, or pretty enough, or smart enough, or talented enough. You had spent so many years feeling like you were a second choice, as if your friends would only be your friends until someone better showed up. Those feelings had only compounded when they had essentially proven you right. They had dropped you the moment you couldn't be enough of what they wanted you to be, and had never looked back, never even looked at you with kindness from that moment on.

It made sense, then, that you you would still be falling short of the mark in Hawkins. Not edgy enough, or sexy enough. The disappointment curdled in your gut, feeling like lead as it settled.

Eddie looked at you from across the table and quirked his eyebrow at you, clearly having noticed the souring of your mood. You shrugged a shoulder at him and mustered the best smile you were able. He frowned slightly, clearly not having bought it for a second. He looked at you consideringly for a moment, and then suddenly began thrusting his head back and forth. The demonic-robot-chicken rides again! The sheer ridiculousness of the situation startled a laugh out of you and he smiled, pleased at having cheered you up, and returned to his conversation.

Fuck it. You thought. This time was going to be different. It had to be. This time you would be enough! You could prove to him that you could be everything he wanted. You just had to figure out how.

The problem consumed your thoughts the rest of the day, and Robin pounced on you at work that night, asking where your head was.

You had prevaricated for an hour, waiting until Steve absconded to buy food before half-telling Robin your dilemma. Robin, of course, was a genius. If you wanted to test the theory of whether you could pull off the rocker chick look, and by extension test the theory of whether Eddie would like you better that way, you could give it a dry run at Steve's birthday party on Saturday. It made perfect sense! People always dressed raunchier at parties, and if he laughed you out of the house then you would know that it was hopeless and you may as well return to your normal wardrobe and commit yourself to a life of agonizing friendship.

Robin gave you directions to her house and instructions to be there by 5pm sharp on Saturday night so that she could metal-ify you before the party. The rest of your shift was much more pleasant now that you were no longer plagued by a seemingly unsolvable problem. You could do this.

Saturday arrived far too quickly for your liking, and when you walked into Robin's room you were taken aback by the explosion of clothing and make up that littered the room. Robin had never struck you as the type to have such an extensive collection.

"I don't," she said when you raised your confusion, "I raided the theatre department after band practice".

She began rifling through the piles of clothes littered across the room, occasionally holding things against you in different combinations. You stood very still, feeling very much like a doll.

Some minutes later, she hummed to herself, seemingly satisfied and handed you some things.

"How big are your boobies?" she asked you, seeming unfazed by your expression of horror. "This outfit will look bitchin' with a really sexy black lace bra underneath, but that only works if you either have one or if you borrow one of mine!"

You lifted your shirt and flashed the black harness bra to her. "Will this do?" Her eyes glazed and her mouth popped open as she stared at your chest. Numbly, she nodded, and you grabbed the clothes and wandered to her bathroom to change.

The leather pants were tight, and settled high on your waist. Turning around and examining yourself in the mirror, you were shocked at how smooth your curves were under the tight material. The shirt could barely be called a shirt, the gauzy fabric so sheer it was essentially see-through. You slid the blouse on over top of your bra and tucked the front of the shirt into the waistband of your trousers. Ok, Robin was a certifiable genius. Lord help you all if she turned to the dark side because if she applied her considerable talents toward villainy you would be ruined.

The outfit was stunning, sexy and dangerous and very much not like you. Robin's expression was dark and triumphant when you re-entered the room. She flung a pair of combat-style black leather boots at you and you slid your feet into them without tying the laces. Standing behind you, she reached around to fasten a velvet choker necklace around your throat, and removed your hair from its bun.

She frog marched you to her dresser and sat you down with your back to the mirror. She started with your hair, and the movements of her playing with your hair and face was so therapeutic and relaxing that you were nearly asleep by the time she announced that she was finished.

"Voila" she said, indicating you should turn around to see the result.

You were stunned. Your hair was curly and voluminous, falling in silky curls around your face, looking just dishevelled enough that you could have been kissed to within an inch of your life just moments prior and no one would quite know for certain. You hardly recognized your face. The dark, smoky eye makeup made your eyes look huge, exacerbated by the sharpness of your cheekbones with the blush and bronzer she had applied. Your lips were darker than normal, though you weren't wearing lipstick per se. She had applied lipstick and wiped almost all of it off so that your lips looked swollen and ripe. You looked fuckable.

The transformation was incredible, and it filled you with confidence. You kept catching sight of yourself in the mirror while Robin did her own hair and makeup, opting for a gorgeous plaid skirt with fishnets and the cutest grey suede boots. She looked stunning. You walked the two blocks from Robin's place to Steve's where you could already hear the music thumping from halfway down the street.

Pushing open the door to the flat you were met with a wave of bodies. How had you forgotten how popular Harrington had been at school! He talked about it all the time! Together you pushed through the throng of people to the kitchen for a drink, taking a chance on the punch. It tasted delicious and fruity which in your experience meant it was probably lethal.

Armed with a cup of punch you both returned to the impromptu dancefloor in the lounge and danced together to the heavy beat of the Judas Priest song thumping through the floor. Who would have thought Steve had good taste in music. You danced and drank for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only about twenty minutes. Robin held up her hands to signal a bathroom break and you shook your empty cup at her, retreating to the kitchen to replenish your drinks.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter, drink in hand with your chest heaving and a bead of sweat running down your chest when Eddie walked into the room.

He spotted you immediately, but it seemed to take him a second or two to process that it was you he was seeing. He stuttered to a stop only a step or two into the kitchen and his eyes flew over your body, cataloguing the tightness of your pants and the details of your bra so easily visible beneath the shirt.

His pupils were so dilated they looked pure black, and he swallowed heavily, stalking toward you.

He placed his hands on the counter on either side of your waist and leaned close to ensure you could hear him over the music, effectively trapping you against the bench at your back. "What are you wearing?" he growled into your ear. Goosebumps erupted over your body and you shivered in desire at the want clear in his tone.

You smirked impishly at him. "Do you like it?" you asked, stepping away from the counter until you were pressed against him, winding your arms around his neck. The alcohol had made you bold, and you relished the unsteadiness of his hands as they settled on your waist.

He looked down at you, expression hungry.

"MUUUUUNSOOOOOOON!" A very drunk Steve came wobbling into the kitchen and you sighed as Eddie unwound his arms from your waist to clap a hand on Steve's back You turned around to fill a glass of water, handing it to Steve and watching in grim satisfaction as he gulped it down. You gave him a hug and wished him happy birthday, watching as his eyes finally focused on you.

"Holy shit! Have you always been this hot!?" He slurred, seemingly unable to wrench his gaze from your chest. You sighed and refilled your cup of punch, draining it in one go and filled it again before dancing your way back to the lounge to continue dancing with Robin.

You could feel his eyes on you as you danced. You threw yourself into the movement, inhibitions banished by the lethal punch, hips swaying as you danced with Robin, getting progressively drunker as the night progressed. And still he watched you. You felt an arm snake around your ribcage, brushing against the bottom of your breasts. You arched your spine in surprise. Eddie? The voice that spoke next to your ear definitely wasn't Eddie.

"I always knew you'd be a slut underneath all that goodie-two-shoes shit".

Motherfucking Patrick. You ripped his arm from around your body and stomped off away from him, through the kitchen and out the back door to sit on the stoop. In the cold and the dark you became aware of how drunk you actually were, and leaned your head back against the wall of the house to breathe and calm down your heart rate.

You had just about righted yourself when the door opened and Eddie slipped out to sit beside you.

You don't know what made you say it, but it slipped out before you were even conscious of having said it. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

He laughed humorlessly and brushed an errant curl from your cheek. "Sweetheart, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

You beamed at him, thrilled to finally have confirmation that you weren't imagining the chemistry between you both. You tugged at the loose fabric of your shirt. "This isn't mine, but the bra is" you said with a toothy grin.

He sighed and looked at you in silence for a few moments. He leaned in close and fixed the collar of your blouse, grasping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his. "You've always been beautiful princess. I promise you, you didn't need all of this to be the most stunning woman I've ever laid eyes on. You look sexy as all hell right now, but you also look sexy in your hellfire shirt, in your video store uniform, in what you wear to school. You're sexy all the fucking time. It isn't how you dress that makes you sexy sweetheart, it's just...you." His voice had turned gruff by the end, and it took a moment for you to realize that the soft moan had come from you.

Fuck it. You launched yourself at him, clambering onto his lap and kissing him. His lips were just as soft as they'd been in your dream but your subconscious had fallen short of the mark when imagining the sheer skill with which he would kiss you. As soon as your lips connected, his arms wrapped around you, one around your waist, crushing you to him, your breasts pressed flush against the hardness of his chest. The other hand was wrapped in the hair at your nape. He held you solidly, hips grinding up into yours as he devoured your mouth. You may have instigated it, but you were no longer in control of the situation. He bit and teased and licked your lips, sucking at them and nibbling them until they were swollen and so damned sensitive. His tongue danced with yours, and he groaned into your mouth, sounding desperate and wrecked.

You were on fire. It should be impossible to feel this good. You couldn't think, could only feel as his mouth continued its assault on yours.

The next few moments were going to end up a key series of events in a murder investigation one day, all thanks to one inebriated Steve Harrington. He came bumbling around the side of the house, coming from god knows where and desperate to show you his 'walk this way' dance moves.

You and Eddie broke apart and you slid from his lap, pressing your hand to your lips while you caught your breath. Eddie grabbed Steve who was moonwalking straight for a creek, and manhandled him back inside, not looking at you as he passed.

You waited outside in the cold for a few minutes but Eddie never came back. Slowly the heat of desire cooled and the gnawing anxiety returned to the pit of your stomach. The voice of doubt was speaking louder and louder in your mind, souring your memory of the kiss and making you second guess what had happened. Had he had his hands on your waist to hold you closer? Or had he been trying to push you off? Had the grinding of his hips actually been his attempt to get you off his lap? Had he been kissing you back at all? Fuck, maybe that hadn't been a good idea. You must have looked so desperate. Maybe you were a slut, just like Patrick said. Just a silly little girl playing dress up to impress a boy. Shame settled in your stomach. What must he think of you.

Rushing back inside, you hid amongst the throng of people for the remainder of the night, finding excuses to leave; whether it be a bathroom break, a kitchen run, or a need for fresh air, every time Eddie looked to be approaching you. You couldn't face him, couldn't bear to see pity or anger in his eyes when he looked at you. The two parts of your brain were battling. The voice that had spent years feeling insignificant and inferior in Indianapolis was telling you that Eddie just felt sorry for you, and his kind words and any response to your kiss had been pity and charity. The other voice, the voice trying so desperately to scream loud enough to be heard over your own insecurities, had been growing steadily louder with the supportive coaxing of the Hellfire gang, your video store crew, and above all Eddie since you moved to Hawkins. That voice was telling you that you hadn't imagined his response, and his response was because your feelings were reciprocated. But that voice wasn't strong enough yet to be heard. So you ran.

While everyone plied Steve with cake and beer you sat on the couch and watched, eyelids heavy and mind fuzzy with the effect of the booze and the adrenaline. You were asleep by the time everyone started to leave.

You didn't see the way Eddie sat on the floor by the couch to keep anyone from disturbing you. You didn't see the way he grabbed a blanket from the linen closet and covered you with it. You didn't see the tender kiss he pressed to your temple before he left to walk home.

Chapter Text

When you woke the next morning, head fuzzy and mouth dry, it took a few moments to recall what had happened the night before. But as soon as the memories locked into place, the anxiety slammed back into you in full force and the chaotic scrambling of your earlier thoughts began again in earnest. Sitting up and trying to ignore the faint roll of nausea in your stomach, you put your face in your hands and took a few deep breaths. There was a distracting moment of panic when your hands came away with black smudges on them before you realised that you had fallen asleep with the heavy make up on and you must look like reheated roadkill stew.

Standing and stepping over the few people sleeping on the floor, you snuck out the front door, wincing and squinting into the brightness of the early morning sun. It wasn't long past sunrise. Walking back to Robin's house, you grabbed your bike and biked home, thoughts still churning.

When you arrived home, you checked in on your Mom who was asleep, and then took a shower, watching the black rivulets of make up run down the drain. When the crust of hairspray was gone from your hair and your face was once again clean, you stepped out of the shower, eyeing your reflection and trying to ignore the stab of bitterness that you felt at once again looking like plain old you.

Clean, dried, and dressed, you closed the door to your bedroom and sat cross legged on your bed. You tried to remember the calming exercises the school counsellor had given you in Indianapolis, calming your breathing and heart rate so that you could focus your thoughts.

The kiss had been, you thought, incredible. But your fears and anxieties from the night before still swirled in your brain. It felt as though your brain was chasing itself around in circles and despite your best efforts, it was jumping from thought to thought so quickly that you never really got to land fully on any thought in particular before your brain was catapulting to the next. Your emotions and memories bandied about in your brain like a dazzling carousel. Heat, lips, shame, hands, enough, Steve, teeth, rings, pity.

Giving up, you rolled onto your front and buried your face in your pillow, groaning into the soft material, taking care to be quiet enough that you wouldn't wake your Mom.

That was it. You needed to talk to him. You could be an adult about this! You would see him at school on Monday and you would talk it out like a grown-ass woman. You could do this!

By Monday morning, you were no longer sure you could do it. You had mentally planned out a thousand different variations on how the conversation might go, trying to prepare yourself for any eventuality. The result being that any time you saw any amount of hair in the hallway, your heart rate spiked so suddenly that you grew light-headed and nauseous with almost immediate panic. You were sure that Shelby Mannings from the year below you must have thought you had a problem with her, after she had seen your horror-stricken face no less than four times over the course of the morning, when you had mistaken her dark permed hair for Eddie's wild mane.

Your fear and anxiety compounded when Eddie was a no-show to lunch. You picked at your food, waiting for his arrival, but it became slowly clearer that he wasn't coming. You tried to drop it into conversation as casually as possible. Lucas had seen him mid-morning so he was definitely at school. Avoiding you then? Or just busy. Feeling nauseous, you dumped your tray having eaten barely anything.

You were absent-minded and unfocused through your next class, counting the minutes until free period when you could hopefully track Eddie down and sort things out. You didn't want to lose his friendship. You convinced yourself that it would be fine even if he didn't reciprocate your feelings. You promised yourself that no matter what his response was, you would be dignified and respectful and you would do everything you could to return your friendship to the way it was before you had so stupidly kissed him.

You were the first out of your seat when the bell rang to signify the end of chemistry and the start of your free period. You hustled to the parking lot, intending to start there and move to the picnic table in the woods if he didn't show within 10 minutes.

You waited at the van, trying to look casual and not full of frantic, nervous energy. You were certain you'd failed. As you stood rocking on your heels, a figure caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Turning your head sharply, your hope died when you saw Patrick walking through the lot toward the admin building, head down. His face was a mess of bruises, black and purple, angry and tender looking. His lip was split and one eyelid was swollen mostly shut. He was a fucking mess. He looked up and caught your gaze. He scowled furiously and stalked faster toward the admin building looking thoroughly pissed off.

Checking your watch, you decided time was up for the van plan, and set off toward the woods, clutching your jacket closed around you. You heard laughter as you approached the clearing with the picnic table, and you froze. It hadn't occurred to you that he might have company out here. The only time you had been out here he had been alone, but it was also snowing and you could certainly believe that Eddie was the only one crazy enough to smoke up in a picnic table in the woods in the middle of a snowstorm.

Not wanting to have come so far just to have to turn back, you crept forward. You would decide whether to move forward into sight of the clearing when you knew how many people would be there to witness your potential humiliation.

You peeked from behind the tree and every muscle in your body froze. Eddie was there, with Chrissy, just the two of them sitting side by side on the picnic table. He was smiling. That was what struck you first. His big beaming smile that always warmed you through. Directed at Chrissy. They were laughing about something together; you were too far to be able to hear the details of the conversation. But he looked so...happy. So happy. He flung himself to the floor dramatically, making Chrissy laugh. She was pretty. Even prettier when she laughed. No witchy cackle there, you thought to yourself bitterly. You could understand why he would like her. She was...perfect. Utterly, miserably, perfect.

He got to his feet and reached a hand out, clutching her tiny hand in his larger one and helped her to the ground, the pair beginning to walk in your direction. You flung yourself out of sight behind a tree and listened to the pair walk and talk as they meandered back toward school.

Sitting against the base of the tree, sad, cold and alone, you determinedly ignored the thoughts intrusively attempting to barge to the forefront of your mind. You channelled the numbness as best you could, letting it consume you from head to toe as you stood, dusted yourself off and did something you'd never done before. Skipped school.

You walked back to school, grabbed your bike and set off for home, not looking back.

At home, you gave yourself a pep talk. You hadn't seen anything conclusive, and it would be the epitome of stupidity to make assumptions on so little evidence. You needed to talk to Eddie. Straighten this out for better or worse. You told yourself that it was the right thing to do. After all, if Chrissy was his choice, you could respect him and love him enough to support him and still be his friend, right? That was what love was all about. Knowing you'd rather see them happy with someone else than miserable with you.

Love. At least you could finally acknowledge it for what it was.

Mind made up, you grabbed the phone from the kitchen and dialled the now familiar number to the video store. Robin answered on the fourth ring, sounding sufficiently bored.

"Hey Rob, it's me" you said, trying to sound casual. "I know it's a bit left of field, but can you tell me how to get to Eddie's? I need to return something of his from Hellfire." You pressed your eyes closed, praying she wouldn't call you on the lie.

You could hear the amusement in her voice when she responded and you thanked her and quickly hung up before she could begin peppering you with questions.

Thankful that your Mom was already at work, you grabbed your bike and mentally replayed Robin's directions as you navigated to the trailer park in the darkness.

Confident that you had reached the correct park, you locked your bike up at the gate, removing your helmet and trying in vain to dry the sweat from your brow and tame your helmet hair. Taking a moment to calm your breathing, you began looking around at the trailers surrounding you, wondering how you were supposed to tell them apart. You picked up the pattern quickly and began wandering in what you thought was the right direction. The car pulling in behind you gave you a fright, and you darted to one side, hiding out of sight around the corner of someone's trailer. The car stopped about 20 yards down the dusty gravel road and the driver turned off the ignition. You were close enough that you knew immediately as she stepped out of the car and into the glow of the porch light that it was Chrissy. Your stomach plummeted. She knocked on the door and stood back. Eddie opened the door to her, grinning widely and bowing lowly as he welcomed her in, closing the door behind her without a backward glance.

Well. That answered that question. Why else would she be turning up at his trailer after 9pm? You doubted it was for assistance with homework. It made sense, you supposed. You wouldn't pick you either.

Numbly you trudged back to your bike, unlocking it and settling on the seat. The first hiccupping sob tore itself from your throat before you even made it out of the driveway. You cried the whole way home.

Tucking yourself into bed, you allowed yourself that night to grieve for what might have been. You allowed yourself to feel the hurt and acknowledge the pain. You reminded yourself, even as the racking sobs stole your breath, that this would not break you.

Complaining of a headache to your Mom the next morning, she rang you in sick from school and the two of you had the day at home together. Your first solid block of time together since Christmas. You watched trashy shows on TV and ate through your supply of budget ice cream and sprinkles.

You cooked dinner together and talked about everything. Your Dad, her job, your school and your new friends. You told her about Hellfire club, feeling gratitude rush you when she tried so hard to understand and engage with you about it despite the fact that it was clear she had no idea what any of it was.

The whole day was just what you needed. Feeling a lot more whole that night as you went to sleep, you were determined that you would go to school the next day and smile and be his friend and be happy and grateful to be in his life at all.

You mostly succeeded. Classes were easy, since you shared none of the same classes except for free period. Lunch was where your resolve was tested.

You were all seated around the table, bickering and squabbling about a range of topics. You were next to Max, talking to her about her skateboarding and where she had learned. You were incredibly aware of Eddie seated at the other end of the table, but had yet to look at him, though you had felt his eyes on you more than once since he had sat at the table. Max was demonstrating with her hands the correct angles needed to achieve a kickflip when Robin asked loudly across the whole table to Eddie "hey what did you leave at Hellfire club that called for pulling Tinkerbell all the way across town on a bike at 9pm on a Monday in the middle of winter?"

Your body froze, and even Max abandoned her display in interest at the topic.

Your breathing grew shallow and you turned your head slowly to look at Robin with a look of poorly disguised horror. With your eyes you screamed at her "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

She seemed confused by your response, obviously having thought that your impromptu trip had been the start of a great romance. She was right in a way, just not for you.

"Did you come to see me, Princess?" He asked, grinning widely, and you turned to look at him for the first time in days. It hurt, but you kept your expression as relaxed as possible.

"I did, but when I got there, you already had company so I went home. It's no biggie though, I answered my own question." You responded with a wobbly smile.

You watched the thoughts play out across his face. Confusion, first. Then focus as he started remembering back to 9pm-ish Monday night, then a look of dawning horror when he finally realized what you had meant by 'company'. He looked conflicted but didn't respond. You cleared your throat and turned to Max, asking her to continue with her kickflip lesson, and the table returned to their respective conversations, a little more subdued than before.

Chapter Text

Despite the awkwardness between you and Eddie, Hellfire remained your place of solace. Once a week, every week, you would gather together and you would forget your hurt and become Tinkerbell, the cunning rogue. She could do anything, unburdened by fear or sadness, she was unstoppable. She was enough. You could acknowledge the escapism for what it was, but you figured as long as it made you happy there wasn't really any harm.

It was clear that Eddie wanted to talk about what had happened between you at Steve's party, and you assumed he also wanted to talk to you about the night you had seen he and Chrissy together at his trailer late at night. But you had become a master at avoiding being alone with him while still acting normally around him any time anyone else was there. Your smile was a little dimmer and your blooming confidence had withered slightly, but unless someone was playing very close attention, you doubted they would notice.

He seemed so conflicted. Every week at Hellfire, at least once, you would catch him looking at you with this borderline demented expression, as if he were trying to describe color to a blind person. On no less than four occasions he had opened his mouth to speak, only to pause, mouth gaping like a fish, and close it again.

You were in no hurry to broach the topic, having resolved to yourself that you could channel your love for Eddie into platonic, friendly support. It hurt, but if this was the only way you could have him in your life you would take it. You had yet to see him and Chrissy together anywhere publicly, but there had been several lunch periods that Eddie had been absent from that Chrissy had also not been in the cafeteria. Not that you were looking.

But you couldn't work out why they were never together publicly. Were they not dating? Was it maybe just...physical? Even thinking the thought to yourself made your face screw itself up into a grimace. The thought had crossed your mind that she was ashamed of him, and the fury that had burned in you at that consideration had left you winded and more than a little surprised.

The whole situation was painful, and you tried your best not to think about it. Which was why you devoted more and more of your time to Hellfire and incorporating the worlds that Eddie created into your art. Even if you couldn't be together, your love for him was carved into every careful, precise line, every messy sketch.

Every session while you played you would draw. Sometimes just sketches, sometimes intricately detailed renderings of an entire scene. Black and white, color, felt tip. Everyone at Hellfire now had a detailed character sketch that you had drawn, and you frequently drew imposing landscapes of settings flooded with Eddie's monsters. He kept them in a folder, preserved more carefully than any note he'd ever taken for any class, and at the start of each session he would take them all out and place them around the room, a carefully cultivated atmosphere. Sometimes you would take one of the older black and white ones home and add color and dimension to them, but you always made sure to give them back.

You still noticed Eddie taking it easy on you from time to time, focusing his more lethal attacks on the other members of the party, even though with your superior stat priorities you should have been the first line of defense.

It was at the end of February that the first domino fell and set you on a collision course that would change your life. It was small thing really, hardly memorable at all if not for the chain of events that it sparked.

You had been discussing with Lucas and Mike where they had gotten the inspiration for their characters while you were waiting for Eddie to arrive from detention and start the encounter. They were telling stories about books they had read and movies they had seen, talking over one another to see who could tell the story better. And it was one small thing that Mike said that drew you up short.

"Man, I got screwed by the dice though, I'll never be able to pick a lock for shit. I rolled a THREE for Dex. Can you believe that!? A THREE! I may as well have just made myself a double amputee or something, I can't do shit with a three roll even with multipliers."

You had laughed and nodded and the conversation had continued, but that comment churned in your head for the rest of the night.

It had actually taken you a few days to put it together. You had rolled low, for every stat when building your character with Eddie. Your highest roll had been a six. Yet, he had been explicit that your rolls were good. Your stats were proof of that right? But how could that be, if Mike was adamant that a three was a total wipe.

It didn't make any sense. At the time you rationalized it to yourself that maybe it was a class-specific modifier and that the level of roll meant different things depending on race and class. You put it out of your mind, but made an absent-minded note-to-self to ask one of the boys about it at a future meeting. If you remembered.

The next domino fell a week later at lunch. Dustin was proudly wearing his Hellfire shift, the first time you had seen him wear it. You had complimented him on it and he expressed his pride, after having saved his allowance for weeks to buy it. Again, your brain churned.

None of this was adding up. Eddie had handed over your shirt literally your first day. You had a shirt before you had a character! Was it a case of getting your first free and having to pay for the second? But you'd never seen Dustin wear one before. Maybe he'd destroyed his first shirt before you'd known him? You had no answers, but you watched Eddie's DMing decisions closer than ever that night. He really did orchestrate situations wherein you could shine with little to no fear of danger. He attacked you only with his weakest minions. Attacks by stronger monsters always missed when aiming at you. What on Earth was going on.

You turned the puzzle over in your mind for another week. And it was then, on the final Hellfire club of the semester, that it all came to a head.

You had continued to watch Eddie's movements carefully, the way he expertly controlled the board, never letting you get too close to the action, keeping you bogged down with low-danger minions out of the firing line of the main conflict. The campaign was a success and after coming out on top Eddie had promised you all that the campaign for the next semester was going to be crazy in a way they couldn't even imagine. You had shot him a small smile and mouthed 'thank you' as you exited the room, walking toward the bike racks with Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will, leaving Eddie behind to clean up and lock up. His smile had seemed a little strained, as it had almost constantly since Steve's Party. You missed seeing him smile properly, the way his cheeks would crease with the effort. You missed seeing him look like happiness was etched into his bones.

Your thoughts drifted back to the conversation around you. Will and Lucas were talking separately to the rest of you; Lucas gloating at having secured a paper round.

"It's perfect man, I'll be pulling in more than double what my allowance is, which means I can afford to do Hellfire AND Basketball AAAAAND still kick your ass at the arcade three times a week."

The thoughts that had swirled in the mist and shadow of your brain for weeks finally sharpened themselves into clarity and stopped you in your tracks.

You swung around, causing them to skid to a halt. "How much do you have to pay for Hellfire?" you asked him, abruptly.

"Twenty dollars a semester. It isn't much but Eddie uses it to cover new set pieces and stuff like that, paint for the figurines, that kinda thing." he said cautiously.

"Right," you said quietly, heart racing, "and remind me, how much are the shirts?"

"Fifteen dollars..." he said slowly, not understanding where you were going with the questions. Since the start of the semester you had largely been quiet and introspective, so to have you urgently questioning them seemingly out of nowhere about such a nothing topic was throwing them off.

You made a soft noise of acknowledgement and starting walking back up the hallway toward the room. You stopped and swung back around before you even made it half-way. "Just help me out with something real quick," you said to them, sounding frazzled even to your own ears. "When you're setting up a new character, when you do your stat rolls, low rolls are...?"

"Bad" they said in unison, still looking very confused.

"And that doesn't change depending on like race or class or anything?" You asked, thoughts racing and voice shrill. The boys shook their heads, Dustin and Will looking to each other in twin expressions of concern. Maybe they thought you were having a mental breakdown. Maybe you were.

You laughed a little maniacally. "Right, right, right, how silly of me. So, if someone rolled low across the board, like, nothing higher than a six and rolled a two four times that would be..."

They looked at each other, a little unsure, before Mike turned to you. "Catastrophic."

Nodding your head, you thanked them and turned around, marching at full speed back toward the Hellfire room.

You burst back into the room, flinging both doors open so hard that one of them swung straight open and slammed into the wall. You hadn't meant to be so dramatic, but you were riding the wave of adrenaline. You could be embarrassed about it later, but for now you were pissed.

He had flung himself around in surprise at your entrance, his expression settling when he realized it was you. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could get anything out.

"Why aren't you charging me for being here?" You asked, your voice firm even though your insides felt like jelly.

His expression froze. "What do you mean?" He asked slowly, playing for time.

You had had enough. You huffed out a laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob. "I mean, Edward, that I've just had the most illuminating conversation with the boys on the way out. About the fee they pay every semester. And the cost of the Hellfire Shirt. And what else, OH YES, the fact that rolling a TWO in a stat roll is categorically NOT. GOOD." You punctuated the last two words by prodding your finger into his chest. You wondered absently if you should feel ashamed for the zing of pleasure that jolted through you at touching him again.

His expression looked guiltier and guiltier as you laid out your points and he looked a little sick by the time you reached your conclusion. You reached up a hand to prod him again but he captured your hand easily and held it against his chest. Your anger was burned out and all that was left was sadness.

"Am I your charity case?" you asked in a whisper. "What, you knew I was poor and wanted to show a little Christian hospitality to the new girl? Is this pity?"

He was shaking his head vehemently, hair flying everywhere. You opened your mouth to speak, but his patience had worn thin. He clapped a hand over your mouth, bringing you up short.

"I have never. EVER. Pitied you, sweetheart. Never." He said, not taking his eyes away from yours for a second. "I just wanted you to be a part of this because it means a lot to me, and you mean a lot to me, and having both of my favorite things at the same time is worth more than the money to me. To be able to share this with you is priceless." You were still so confused. "I watched you those first few weeks and you just looked so fucking lonely, and I've been there, princess. I've been in the dark and the cold, and this saved me. These butt-heads sitting around jerkin' their gherkins over how to defeat imaginary monsters saved me. And I know it sounds stupid, and maybe it is, but I thought maybe it could save you too."

Seemingly having said his piece, he slowly removed his hand from your mouth.

"This doesn't make any sense, Eddie" you said, pleadingly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Where does Chrissy fit into all of this? How can you call me one of your favorite things, and do these things for me, rig the game for me, give me freebies, when you're not doing it for her?"

He looked confused and you saw the realization dawn on him followed closely by guilt.

"Chrissy isn't my girlfriend, you goose." He said, and you froze, cursing yourself for the hope kindling in your veins.

"Then why was she going to your trailer late at night?" you whispered, afraid of the answer.

He struggled for a moment, clearly reluctant to say what he wanted to say. He lost the internal battle and huffed out "because I'm her dealer." He smiled sadly at you. "I'm her dealer, because that's what I do sweetheart, I deal drugs to high schoolers so that I can enjoy my life of luxury." His smile had turned bitter by the end. "And you deserve better than some drop-kick who can't graduate high school, and who deals on the side, and who can't even man the fuck up and tell you he's crazy about you."

You breathe for a moment and he refuses to meet your eye.

"Eddie," you say impatiently, "you're a fucking idiot." he looked up at you, surprised. "Do you really think I didn't know you were dealing? I knew that before I even knew your name! And as for my 'deserving better' wasn't it you who told me that you can't reduce a person down to nothing more than their worst actions?" He looked hopeful, a small smile growing on his face. "All these fucking MONTHS Eddie, I've been walking around, miserable thinking you didn't want me and I-"

You broke off, realizing with a start what you had just revealed. You saw the exact moment that your words triggered in his brain and his gaze settled on yours. He was looking at you as though you were prey.

He strode over to you slowly, but with such purpose that you instinctively stepped back again and again until your back hit the wall. He caged you in, stepping close to you and putting his hands on the wall on either side of your head. "Miserable." he said, a devilish gleam in his eye, "now, why would you be miserable about me not wanting you, princess? Hmm?"

You swallowed, and felt your cheeks flush.

"Seems to me," he continued, his words slow and syrupy, husky in your ear, "that you wouldn't be miserable if you didn't want me too. Is that it, baby?"

You struggled to keep your breathing even, so affected by his proximity.

He removed his hands from the wall, leaning down to grab both of your hands and in a flash had them pinned against the wall above your head, trapped by just one of his hands as the other trailed down the side of your face, his thumb stroking over your lip.

"Say the word sweetheart. Say the word and I'm yours"

He was so close now that you could taste the sweet smoke on his breath, feel the warmth of his exhale against your lips. Barely an inch was separating you.

"Say the word, Tink," he pleaded, desperate.

You opened your mouth and whispered "please."

He was on you in a flash. your hands still pinned against the wall, he cupped the side of your face and he was everywhere all at once. You moaned in unison at the first touch of your tongues and you wondered how you could have ever thought your memory had exaggerated how magical it felt to be kissed by him.

You were panting against his mouth as he broke the kiss and began sucking on the pulse point at the corner of your jaw. His thigh slid up between yours, drawing a whine from you when he pressed it solidly against your clit. He was grinding his thigh against your pussy, and you were no longer conscious of the noises you were making, hypnotized by the way his mouth licked and sucked its way back up to your mouth, the hand on your face having drifted down to skim the underside of your breasts. You arched against him, seeking more, and he slid his hands up to cup your breast. You whined into his mouth, feeling as though you might come at any moment.

The sound of a vacuum cleaner filtered through your brain and you remembered that the cleaning crew would be coming in any second to tidy the room. You broke apart and began hurriedly grabbing your things, stealing kisses together every few moments, before he grabbed your hand and you ran down the corridor with him.

He gave you another slow, lingering kiss at your bike and when he pulled away, he looked wrecked. His lips, always pouty and soft, looked raw and swollen. His cheeks flushed and his eyes glazed, he looked ruined. Your pussy was throbbing between your legs at the sight, even though you were sure you must look much worse.

He lifted his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear and looked uncertain for a moment.

"Can I take you on a date, sweetheart?" he said, softly, still fingering a strand of your hair.

Your smile was so bright it almost hurt, and you didn't trust yourself to speak, just nodding at him and feeling your heart ache at the look of relief that crossed his face. Had he really thought you would say no?

With one last kiss that you had difficulty tearing yourself away from, you settled onto your bike and set off for home.

Chapter Text

The date weighed on your mind in the most deliciously tantalizing way. His band was playing at the hideout that weekend, so you had had to wait until the following week, and it felt as though there was nothing else to do to occupy your time other than to think about how it would go.

He had given you no clues, and you had no idea what to expect. You had drifted off to sleep every night for almost a week, playing out different fantasies of how your date would go. Some good, some bad, some utterly hilarious, but all ending in some serious kissing. Or more, you hoped. It had been far too long and the sexual tension between the two of you was impeding your ability to think clearly when he was around. Maybe if you finally got it out of your system, you'd stop being absolutely desperate for him every time you saw him, heard him, or even thought about him. You doubted it, but it was worth a shot, right?

When the following Thursday rolled around, you took advantage of having no school or work during the day and pampered yourself. You had some old lotions and potions from birthdays past that weren't yet empty, squirrelled away for a rainy day. You ran yourself a hot bath and scrubbed and shaved every inch of yourself from the neck down. You were determined to draw out your pamper session, in the hopes that it might make 7pm arrive faster. You soaked in the bath, filled with cheap bubbles and surrounded by tiny tealight candles that you had robbed from your Mom's emergency survival kit. Soaking in the bath, you laid your head back against the edge of the tub and once again sank into a vivid fantasy. Maybe he would pick you up and take you to Lover's Lake. It was a known make-out spot after all. You could imagine he'd open the back doors of his van so you could lay on the floor and still see the stars. You slid your hands down the silky length of your thighs, already aroused from over a week of fantasizing about every possible outcome. Shaking your head in an attempt to get control of your raging libido, you pulled yourself standing, let the water drip from your body down the now unplugged drain. You grabbed your fluffiest bath towel and quickly dried yourself, wrapping your hair in a smaller towel and hurrying to your room where it was slightly warner.

You rubbed your body down with a vanilla body lotion and then sat on the edge of the bed.

Fuck.

All of the scenarios, all of the fantasies, and somehow you had managed not to even start thinking about what the hell you were going to wear!? Oh this was impossible! How were you supposed to plan an outfit when you had no idea where you were going!? You stumbled to the phone, still wrapped in towels, and dialled the video store with fumbling fingers.

It was Steve that answered, sounding bored and rehearsed in his greeting.

"Harrington, it's me, can you put Robin on?" you said, trying not to let the panic come through too obviously in your voice.

"Oh, I'm great, thanks for asking. Yeah, I mean I burnt my cheesy popcorn casserole last night and now my only baking dish has scorch marks on it that I can't get out, but it's nice to know that -"

His sarcastic reply was cut off and you could hear a tussle at the other end of the line. There was a less than manly squeal, followed by Robin's bored sounding drawl "baby, if you tell me that you need me in a way that gets me out of the most boring Thursday night shift in history, I will cry, and then profess my undying love. You have been warned."

Your answering laugh sounded strangled, even to your own ears. "Ok, can you do something for me, no questions asked?" you said, urgently.

Robin sobered up in seconds "Are you okay? What do you need? Are you safe?"

"yeah yeah yeah, sorry I didn't think about how that would sound," you reassured her, "I have a date with Eddie in less than two hours, I have no idea where we're going, or what we're doing, and I have NO IDEA WHAT TO WEAR!" You raised your voice at the end so that she could hear you over the squeal she had started emitting as soon as she processed that you were going on a date with Eddie.

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW I COULD SMELL SEXUAL TENSION!!!" you could hear her clapping excitedly and Steve's persistent enquiries in the background "I'm so glad you came to the master for advice. STEVE I'VE GOTTA HEAD OUT, HOLD DOWN THE FORT" she yelled and said she'd be at yours in five.

You waited anxiously, perched on your bed still wrapped in towels, and sprung up when Robin came clattering through your front door.

"OKAY, I'M SLIGHTLY LATE BUT I HAD TO PICK UP SUPPLIES" she said from behind a tower of clothes and bags.

The next hour was a flurry of materials flying everywhere. You had tried so many different combinations, wanting to find something that was still you, but different that your every day school clothes. You had remembered with a proud flush the way he had told you at Steve's that he found you sexy in anything you wore. That it was you that made the clothes sexy, and not the other way around. You were trying to be prepared for any eventuality, still having no idea where you were going.

In the end, you went through most of the pile before you found a combination that struck the right balance of cute and sexy. The black leather skirt was formfitting, and shorter than what you would normally wear, and the lacy bralette on top was probably closer to lingerie than what it was clothing. Truth be told, those two items on their own were more risqué than anything else in your wardrobe combined, but when you put the bomber jacket over top, covered in its many patches and pins, it balanced the sex appeal and made the outfit fashionable, cute, and still hot as hell. The jacket was your Dad's and you hadn't worn it since before his arrest, but after Eddie's talk to you the day you hurt your ankle, you had been rethinking some things and contemplating whether maybe it was time for a new beginning.

You slid on a pair of low heels, but you weren't sold. What if you ended up going somewhere that heels would be impractical. You decided to keep the heels and a pair of cute sneakers near the door and resolved to choose which pair to wear when you knew more about where you were going. Robin did your hair and make up in a more subtle version of what she had done for Steve's party. The eye make up was lighter, your eyelashes looking obscenely long with the mascara, and your lips stained that fuckable, plump, red. Satisfied with her work, Robin stood back, sighed, and said "Munson's a lucky man."

You laughed, before realising that she looked a little strained. It took you a moment to replay some things in your head before you said "oh" softly. Robin looked nervous about your reaction, so you rushed to stand and envelop her in a hug, reassuring her that you still loved her and that you wouldn't be weird now that you knew.

"If it doesn't work out we can get married and adopt some cats" you told her, and she chuckled wetly into your shoulder.

The two of you sprung apart at the knock on the door. FUCK! Was it seven already!?

Robin gave your hair one last twirl and then shooed you out into the hall, assuring you that she would lock the door when she left.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the front door and felt as though you'd stepped into an alternate dimension. Eddie looked...not like Eddie. He was wearing a suit, for starters. No jeans, no bandana or chains in sight, no hellfire top, no leather jacket, no denim. A damned suit! He looked uncomfortable in it too, as though it were a size small and he'd outgrown it. His usual beat-up white sneakers were gone, replaced with shiny black dress shoes. But the biggest change was his hair. It was slicked back, in a tidy bun at the nape of his neck, the usual disarray beaten into submission with a lot of patience and probably a snapped comb or two. You were speechless. You were so busy trying to process the change to the man in front of you that you failed to notice him extending flowers toward you. Sunflowers. Your favorite.

His expression was growing increasingly nervous the longer it took you to respond.

"Tink? Is this ok? I know it's a little dorky...I can-" You cut him off with a kiss and the two of you melted into each other's arms as the kiss deepened.

Pulling away moments later, he allowed himself to look at you, and you saw him swallow convulsively as he took in the length of your skirt and the amount of skin exposed by your bralette. You, retreated into the house with a blush, quickly putting the flowers in water, then slipped on your heels and followed him out to the van.

After an unusually quiet van ride, he pulled up outside the swankiest restaurant in town. He was fidgeting and clearly nervous. He jumped out of the van and around to unbuckle you as had become your own private tradition. His hands lingered as they brushed the exposed flesh of your thighs, and you could feel them tremble as he helped you out of the van.

"I've heard it's really good here. I haven't been but someone told me this is the best, and you deserve the best so it seemed fitting! I don't know what kinda food they do but I like food just in general so I'm sure we'll find something, right?" He was rambling. He was definitely nervous.

He made to walk toward the restaurant and you stopped him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to you.

"Have you changed your mind? I can take you home? Honest, it's no bother, this was a stupid idea anyway I-" Taking a trick from his own arsenal you had put your hand over his mouth to stem the growing tide of insecurity slipping from his mouth.

"Eddie," you began, staring into his eyes to make sure he was absorbing what you were saying, "I wanted to go on a date with you because I like YOU. I've been obsessing over you for months, because I like YOU. This isn't you. I don't want you to change to be with me Eddie, I want you just as you are. Denim, leather, wild hair, terrible table manners, all of it."

"Bmph ymph dmphsmrmphv bmpher."

You spread two of your fingers to allow him to speak. "But you deserve better." he said, sadly.

"I deserve to be happy. And you make me happy. As you are. I don't need a penguin suit and caviar to have a great time with you!" you said, willing him to understand. "Can we get out of here? Just grab burgers or a pizza and go back to your place so you can be comfortable? I want to see you in your natural habitat." You smiled at him encouragingly and watched as acceptance, followed by joy slowly crept on to his face. His cheeks were pink and he nodded slowly at you before helping you back into your seat in the van. This time, he didn't hold back from admiring your thighs as he buckled you in.

"You know, if you wanted to kill me this was a genius plan, sweetheart" he said, looking devotedly at the soft skin. He sighed and patted your thighs before returning to the driver's seat. Unlike the journey to the restaurant, he cranked his usual music and drove like a hellion before sliding into the carpark of the local pizza joint. He gestured for you (and your thighs) to stay put as he raced into the shop and emerged not even 2 minutes later with two big boxes, a six pack of beers, and one of their dessert boxes stacked precariously on top. He stowed his treasure away in the back of the van before hopping in, looking more alive and wilder than he had all night. Finally, he seemed to be getting back to himself.

He pulled up sometime later outside of his trailer and your stomach throbbed with remembered hurt of how it had felt to watch him invite Chrissy inside. You knew it was stupid, especially knowing as you did now that it was purely a business interaction, but the jealousy still stung. Still, if tonight had proven anything, it was that you both had hang-ups and insecurities.

You shook off your weird funk as he came around and opened your door. He looked at your thighs, then your belt, then your face, completing that rotation twice more with a pained look on his face before telling you that if you had any hope of getting inside and keeping the date on track you had better unbuckle yourself this time. Laughing gently, you did just that, and slid out of the van, closing the door behind you. Gathering the food, he ascended the steps to the trailer and welcomed you in, smiling shyly as you entered his home for the first time. He gave you a rough tour before gesturing awkwardly for you to sit on the couch and disappearing into his room. Kicking off your heels, you pulled your legs up underneath you and took stock of the mugs and hats all over the room. You had just taken your first bite of pizza when he re-emerged, pulling his hellfire top over his head. Hello. His body was muscled, but soft, and so deliciously smooth, the pale exapnse only broken by the smattering of tattoos. They were definitely going to require closer inspection. You were so entranced that it took him waving his hand in your face for you to realise that the cheese was threatening to drip down your cleavage. Blushing, you put the slice down and wiped your mouth. He had changed into his usual clothes, leaving his feet socked, and hair once again wild as he sat beside you on the couch.

"I could put on a movie?" He said, seeming unsure given that the date he had planned had gone awry within the first half hour. You nodded enthusiastically and he got up and started rifling through a stack of tapes before emerging with 'The Poltergeist'.

He slid the tape into the VHS and resettled next to you on the couch, closer than before but still with some distance between you both.

As the movie progressed, you made your way closer and closer to him, with every flinch. The empty pizza boxes and beer bottles were removed and by the time the move was half-way done, you were pressed against his side, legs still tucked up beneath you.

The next jump scare gave you a full body flinch, and in doing so, your breasts jostled and your skirt slid an inch higher up your thigh. Eddie was no longer watching the TV. You felt his eyes burning into that extra inch of exposed flesh and your thighs clenched in response. In seconds the atmosphere had gone from romantic and sweet to sexually charged.

You could hear the shakiness of his breathing next to you as you pretended to focus on the movie. You deliberately took a deep breath, aware of the way it would push your breasts against the confines of the bralette. Raising your hands above your head, you stretched, arching your back and moaning gently at the delicious feeling in your muscles, before relaxing back against him, aware that your little show had pulled your skirt even higher up your thighs. He had moved his arm to land softly around your shoulder, and was drawing tiny circles gently on the skin of your collarbone. You were sure he must have been able to feel your racing pulse.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as his other hand lifted from its resting place and landed on your thigh.

"Is this okay?" He whispered, indicating at his hand on your thigh. Licking your lips, you turned to him and nodded, watching as his eyes darkened at your response. Your own breathing quickened and you resisted the urge to clench your thighs together. He leaned in close to whisper gruffly into your ear.

"You're a fucking tease, aren't you, sweetheart?" You tried hard to control your breathing, but it was noticeably shaky as his fingers began rubbing circles into your thigh. "Showing off these gorgeous thighs for me, trying to drive me mad."

You were doing your best to appear absorbed in the movie, but when his lips ghosted along your throat in a manner so eerily reminiscent of your dream, you couldn't pretend to be unaffected. Your head dropped back and a choked moan spilled from your throat.

"Oh, do you like that baby? You like it when I play with your throat?" He was still whispering lowly, and your body was trembling with anticipation. You nodded shakily and he huffed a laugh against your neck, making you squirm.

"What else do you like?" He asked, now kissing your neck from collarbone to jaw as he waited for a response. His devilish hands still tracing teasing circles on your thigh and shoulder. You squirmed against him. You'd never been asked outright, so you'd never had to say it out loud. You wished briefly that you could telepathically transmit the information to his brain.

"I'm waiting, princess" He said in a singsong voice as he nipped your pulse point, chastising you for your silence. You shook your head, embarrassed, and rubbed your thighs together.

"Aww sweetheart, are you getting all shy on me?" He asked with a laugh, sucking your earlobe into his mouth as you nodded in response. Your body shivered. "Well, we'll just have to do this the fun way then" he growled.

He slid his hand a little higher up, before sliding it to rest between your thighs. "I'm going to paint a little word picture for you, and every time you hear something you like, you're going to squeeze my hand. Can you do that for me princess?" You squeezed his hand once between your thighs. "Good girl" your breath caught and you squeezed his hand again. "Oh, does my good girl like being praised?" He asked and your thighs shook as they squeezed his hand again.

"Ok baby, that's so good, you're doing so well for me sweetheart." His hand was kneading the soft flesh of your inner thigh, dangerously close to the throbbing ache in your pussy. It was making it hard to concentrate.

"So, if I were to pick you up (squeeze) and take you through to the bedroom? I'd splay you out on the bed and suck your throat (squeeze), kiss my way down your body, and bury my face in your cunt (squeeze). I'd slide my fingers into your greedy hole (squeeze) and play with you. Would you play with me too sweetheart? Would you stroke me (squeeze) and suck me into that beautiful mouth of yours? (Squeeze)." His exhale was shaky. "Would you let me inside baby? Let me bury myself in that sweet little pussy? (Squeeze)." You could hear yourself panting gently, your hips circling of their own accord.

"So, if you like being my good girl, would you also like me to take control for you baby? (Squeeze). Maybe tie you down (squeeze) and spank you (squeeze)?"

You blamed your raging arousal for the idiocy of what followed. "This is so much better than my dream!" You gasped as he sucked your pulse point between sentences.

He paused, and the reality of what you had just said crashed down around you.

"Oh, princess" he growled, sounding more smug than you had ever heard him, "have you been dreaming about me?" You didn't respond, your mouth having done enough damage for one day. "Are you going to tell me about it?" You shook your head vehemently. "Let's see if we can change your mind. I need you to remember four words for me, ok Tink?" You nodded in assent, a little confused. "Green means go: you're happy and enjoying yourself. Yellow means you're a little unsure and maybe you wanna slow down a bit. Red means stop. I'm gonna ask you along the way what your color is sweetheart and you gotta answer me honestly. If it's red, you just tell me and we'll stop, I won't be angry, I won't be upset, we can just cuddle and finish the movie"

Your voice was husky from lack of use when you asked "Fourth?"

He grinned wickedly and began sliding his hand even higher up the inside of your thighs. "The fourth word you have to remember is my name baby, and you can scream that as often as you want."

His mouth claimed yours as his hand finally reached the apex of your thighs and cupped your pussy through your panties, you whined into his mouth as he sucked your lower lip into his mouth and began caressing your tongue with his. His clever hand was firm and sure as he rubbed at the top of your pussy, applying pressure with his palm against your clit through your lips and panties. Your hips were working to grind yourself in rhythm, and your head was spinning with the sharpness of the pleasure coursing through you. He slipped your panties to the side and slid his fingers up your dripping slit, groaning as he felt how wet you were.

He circled your clit with two of his fingers, occasionally splitting them to rest one on either side of the sensitive nub and rubbing you slowly and methodically He responded to your reactions, noting what made you squirm and whine. He was coaxing you higher and higher and it dawned on you that you were in trouble. You had known it would be good, but you hadn't known it would be this good. The pleasure began to really rage out of control, and you felt your muscles begin to contract in preparation for your orgasm, and he stopped. He pulled his hand away so that even when you tried to chase it with your hips you couldn't reach. You tried to press your thighs together, knowing it would take only seconds more for you to tip yourself over the edge. He held your thighs apart and growled into your ear. "Now that's cheating sweetheart. Be a good girl and keep those thighs open for me." You spread your thighs again with a whimper, hips still circling uselessly in search of friction.

"Now, are you gonna tell me about that dream baby? Or should I start again?" It dawned on you slowly what his plan was and your pussy throbbed in response to the idea of being at his mercy.

You shook your head, still too embarrassed to admit it out loud. "What's your color sweetheart?" He asked as his fingers once again descended onto your clit. "Green!" You whined in response as he made contact, your back arching as the pleasure immediately ramped back up.

"You sure you don't wanna tell me? I could make you come right now princess. I'd make it so good for you." You panted in response but said nothing. With a fake sigh he said "suit yourself" and began suckling your throat as his fingers toyed with your clit. His other hand slid down your shoulder to cup your breast through your tiny top.

He brought you closer and closer to your peak, your whole-body trembling, before he removed his hand and you sobbed in frustration.

This time, instead of removing his hand entirely, he slid his fingers down to your aching hole and slid two of them into you, meeting no resistance. You could feel his rings pressed up against your flesh. You squealed as he curbed his fingers and began massaging you.

"YOUR RINGS!" you cried out, so desperate to come in that moment that you were hardly aware of having said it.

"Good girl sweetheart," he said, slipping his fingers from you. "What about my rings?"

"Everything," you whined, your body still on fire from two almost orgasms, "The way they look, the way they feel, the way they'd look wrapped around my throat."

He groaned and exhaled shakily. "Fuck sweetheart, you're such a good girl for me. I know there's more though. Tell me."

You half-whined, half-sobbed when his fingers returned to slide inside you, curving immediately as his thumb took over the torture of your clit. It was taking less and less time to get you to the edge each time. The next time was only about 20 seconds of pressure from those wicked fingers and you were starting to contract around him. He withdrew immediately.

"EDDIE!" you sobbed, body trembling uncontrollably. He had freed your breasts of their bralette, leaving it pushed up beneath them, your skirt had ridden up to your hips, and you were grinding messily in search of friction as he reduced you to a sobbing mess.

"Color sweetheart?" He asked, kissing your neck. You thought for a moment and realized that even though it was so frustrating you wanted to cry, it was still the most incredible, pleasurable experience of your life. "Green" you sobbed and you could see where his bulge throbbed inside the confines of his jeans. You tried to reach for it, but he intercepted your arm with a tsk.

"I could go all night princess, are you sure you don't want to tell me about this dream?" He asked, and you could hear how affected he was beneath the cocky delivery of the question.

You took too long weighing your options, and his fingers returned to your dripping hole to begin the maddening torture all over again.

As soon as he curved them inside of you, you gasped and flung your head back. "Ok! Ok! Eddie, I'll tell you, I promise I will, I'll tell you, please".

"That's my good girl," he cooed at you.

You panted out the dream to him, desperate to get the story out so that he would finally make you come. It didn't take long, and when you finished, his composure was nearly shot.

"Incredible baby, you've done so well for me. Do you wanna come now? I think you've earned it?" He said, gruffly into your ear. You nodded frantically, hips already circling in anticipation.

His fingers slid back inside you, curving immediately, and his thumb began its treacherous circling of your swollen clit. You sobbed in response to the overwhelming wave of pleasure rising up in you. Never in your life had you felt anything that even came close to this.

Your breaths became shorter and shorter as the pleasure began to coil, your muscles tightening, your pussy throbbing.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Eddie! EDDIE!" Your wails were cut off by his other hand sliding up to grip you around the throat. Your eyes rolled back, your back arched, and every single muscle in your body began convulsing as the pleasure ripped through you. You were dimly aware of Eddie whispering "holy fuck" as you squirmed in ecstacy half in his lap.

The orgasm seemed to last twice as long as any orgasm you'd ever had before, and when it receded you were still trembling, and out of breath, circling your hips to milk the last aftershocks from your aching cunt.

"You did so good for me sweetheart, I'm so proud, you were just perfect Tink, the most perfect girl in the world, I don't know how I got so lucky."

He was babbling away as you relaxed back against him. With a final kiss to your forehead, he slipped his fingers free and stood to get a washcloth. You opened your eyes just in time to see him suck his fingers into his mouth. His eyes closed, almost seeming in pain, and his other hand dropped to press on the bulge in his crotch as he sucked his fingers and made his way into the bathroom. He was gone for a few minutes and emerged looking red-faced and a little sweaty, but with a washcloth in hand. He cleaned you up before helping you to right your clothing.

You were exhausted, floating in a mental haze as the two of you laid down to cuddle on the couch. You placed your hand on his thigh, dragging it gently up toward his crotch, but he intercepted your hands again. You looked at him in confusion. He looked embarrassed. "I uh, already...took care of it...in the bathroom." He said and blushed in a way that was so far removed from the filthy man who had controlled you so beautifully just minutes earlier.

You smiled at his reassuringly and settled back into the cuddle, asleep in no time.

He seemed adorably unsure of himself the next morning, seeming not to know whether he should sit, or stand, or dance a jig. In the end he drove you home after a quick breakfast, kissed you at the door and shyly waved as you closed it behind you. You rested your head against the door, deliriously happy, before turning to watch him retreat through the peephole. He punched the air and was jumping like a small child and the laugh bubbled out of you before you could help it. He swung toward the door in horror, obviously having heard you through the door, and then ran to the van and took off with a red stain on his cheeks.

You walked in a daze toward the kitchen, but were brought up short when you were met with the grinning faces of both your Mom AND Robin.

"Yeah, I lied, I didn't leave" the latter said, bouncing in her seat.

Your Mom looked equally excited, and you sat down, preparing mentally the most PG-13 version of events to recount to them. It was going to be a long morning.

Chapter Text

Two days later, it was your birthday, not that anyone other than you and your Mom knew it. You were still on break from school, and your Mom had switched shifts so that she could have breakfast with you. It was a quiet affair, and when your Mom handed you over a gift you made sure to let your enthusiasm and gratitude shine through, knowing how much she must have scrimped and saved to afford the high quality sketch pad for you, but, as she reminded you, you only turned 18 once! 

You gave her a tight hug, holding on longer than was strictly necessary before the two of you sat and finished your pancakes. Your Mom asked if you had any plans with Eddie for your birthday. You blushed as she waggled her eyebrows at you and you huffed, looking away as you cringed. 

"No Mom, stop that's so gross! I didn't actually tell him it was my birthday. We've been on one date, I'm not roping him into birthday celebrations. I'm happy with no fuss."

Your Mom eyed you with disbelief, but put up her hands in defeat before taking your plate to the sink and washing the dishes. 

You chewed on your lip and were careful to keep your tone light as you asked a question. "Hey, Mom, is it alright if I take you to work and then have the car for the day? I had a few errands I wanted to run and it would be easier if I didn't have to bike."

Your Mom nodded, distracted, and you shuffled off to your room to get dressed, hesitating only briefly at the door before sliding your bomber jacket on. Your Mom looked sadly at the jacket as you drove her to the hospital, but didn't mention it.
You kissed her goodbye and waved cheerily as she walked in, but the moment she was out of sight your smile dropped. 

You were nervous about what you were going to do, but you were set in your resolve. Sliding a favorite mix tape into the tape deck, you pulled out into traffic, taking the turnoff for the highway. 

Once you got on the highway it was pretty much a straight line to the prison, but it was going to take you a few hours to get there so you got comfy behind the wheel and tapped gently on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. 

Along the way, you distracted yourself by recalling your date with Eddie and squirming hotly in your seat. Ok, bad idea. It was going to be a long drive.

A few hours later you pulled into the parking lot of the prison and got out of your car, stretching until your back cracked and moaning in satisfaction. Squaring your shoulders, you walked into the office area and, for the very first time, requested a visit with your father.

They led you through security and explained the protocols around visitation before taking you through to a set of securely locked doors and plonking you down in front of a thick piece of glass with a telephone receiver off to the side. 

You were nervous, your palms sweating and your saliva feeling thick and uncomfortable in your mouth. You were wringing your hands in front of you, but froze when the door opened and your father walked through. You hadn't seen him in almost two years. You didn't remember him looking so...old. Prison had clearly aged him a lot.

He looked shocked to see you, and more than a little apprehensive. You supposed you couldn't blame him. If he had chosen to keep his distance and then turned up unannounced two years later you'd be a little suspect too. You tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. 

He shuffled toward you, steps pausing when he recognized the jacket you were wearing, and sat down on the chair opposite you, separated only by the glass. It was the closest you had been to one another since the morning of his arrest when you hugged him goodbye and set off for school. He picked up the telephone on his side of the glass and gestured for you to do the same. With a deep breath you picked it up and put it to your ear.

"Hi daddy." you said, your voice cracking halfway through.

You watched as his face crumpled and his head bowed, sobs wracking his shoulders. You were stunned. It took him a few moments to collect himself, and when he did, he looked at you with a watery smile, his eyes red rimmed.

The two of you talked for the full hour that you were allowed to visit for. You talked. About everything, about what he had done, how it had affected you, the toll it had had on your life and your Mom's life. You forgave him. You told him that someone much smarter than you had told you that it wasn't fair to treat someone as if they were nothing more than the worst mistake they had ever made. You told him that you loved him, and that he didn't need to be perfect to be your Dad. You told him about your life; Eddie; Hellfire; your friends. He was rapt, smiling at you sadly. It was clear that it was hard for him to hear how much he had missed, but the gratitude that you were there at all was obvious. He wished you a happy birthday.

The guard came around to tell you that your time was nearly up. You promised him you would be back to visit and he told you tearfully that he looked forward to it. You hesitated before leaving, and drew from your pocket the folded drawing you had completed for him. It was a recreation of one of your earliest memories; your Dad chasing you with a party hat on his forehead like a unicorn while you ran away screaming with laughter. You unfolded it and held the paper up against the glass for him to see and he smiled as he cried and traced the drawing through the glass. He asked if he could keep it. You had wanted to give it to him but were unsure if you would have been allowed to do so. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak and the two of you hung up. You watched as he was led away, turning to sneak one last look at you before the door closed. 

You stood and approached the guard, explaining about the drawing and asked about the procedure for getting it to him. The guard explained that usually there would be paperwork, but that as a one off, she would waive the paperwork and take it to him personally. You thanked her and left the facility. 

You walked, in a daze, back to your car, sat in the driver seat, closed the door, and burst into tears. The tears were cathartic. Years of sadness and grief and confusion making their way from your body and leaving you lighter. But for the first time there was a new edge to the sadness. No longer were you crying only for yourself and your Mom and the turn your lives had taken, but for your Dad whose life would never be the same. Your Dad who would miss birthdays, and Christmas', and the ebb and flow of your existence; his only child. Would he still be sitting in a tiny cell day after day when you got married? If you ever had children? How much of his life had he sacrificed out of greed? The consequences for his actions were deserved, a fact that he himself acknowledged, but still you cried for him. Life could be cruel.

When the well inside you was empty, you sat in silence for a few minutes more before turning the key in the ignition and driving home. 

When you got back into town, feeling much more settled than you had in months, you drove straight to the hospital, parked the car and went in to speak to Shona at the front desk. When you had confirmed that she would give the key to your Mom and let her know where the car was, you walked home. You breathed in the quiet, sweet spring air and took the time to really feel your gratitude to the people who were so vital to your life. Your Mom, your friends, Eddie. You didn't know where you would be without them, and you hoped you never had to find out. 

It was dusk when you got home, and you had only just settled yourself at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee when there was a knock at the door. Puzzled, you padded down the hallway and opened the door to see a very sheepish looking Eddie looking at you. 

"I'm sorry, I know I probably should have called, but I just wanted to see you." He said, contrite. 

Seeing his face was just the balm that your soul needed after such a hard day, and you crushed him into a hug, burying your face into the smoky leather of his jacket. He seemed taken aback by your reaction, but nonetheless he cradled you close, one arm around your waist and one on the back of your neck, and kissed the top of your head. 

"Wanna go somewhere with me?" He asked, the sound muffled given that he spoke while his face was still buried in your hair. You nodded instead of responding and quickly ran inside to grab shoes and a jacket before hopping into the van. He buckled you in with a kiss to the tip of your nose. It was clear he could sense how fragile you were feeling. 

He pulled up outside of the Hideout. You had never been but you had heard about it. He came around to unbuckle you, lifting you out of the van and holding you close for a few more seconds before taking your hand and walking you toward the door. There wasn't much in the way of noise coming from the bar but you supposed it was still early.

He pushed open the door and your eyes met with darkness. Taking a tentative step inside, the lights suddenly flicked on and all of your friends jumped out with balloons and streamers and a 'happy birthday' banner!

You were gobsmacked. You turned to Eddie who looked sheepish, but pleased. 

"How did you know?" you asked him, with wonder in your eyes.

At this, his blush darkened. "I uh, broke into the school admin office after detention one day like two weeks into first semester. I mainly just wanted to know your name, but I may have jotted down a few extra details too."

Your eyes filled with tears as you gathered everyone in for a group hug.

You all danced to some jukebox music for a while. You laughed and sang and smiled like a wild thing as you were spun around the group, getting to dance with all of your favorite people. Eddie spoke into your ear as you danced with him, letting you know that he had pulled some strings with the owner to have the place to yourselves until 8pm and then the doors would open, the younger crowd would need to go home, and Eddie's band would take to the stage. You were brimming with gratitude for this incredible man who had made such a fuss over your birthday after being with you for such a short while. He had no way of knowing what an emotional day you had had, and yet somehow he had been prepared with the perfect antidote. 

You put one hand on each of his cheeks and pulled his face down to yours, kissing him while everyone whooped and cheered. Well, almost everyone: Steve was very confused having, as always, been the last one to figure it out. 

Eddie backed away and jogged off to a room off behind the bar while you danced once more with your friends. He emerged some minutes later, turning the lights and music off before walking out with a cake and beginning the most out of tune rendition of 'Happy Birthday' you had ever heard. It was perfect. Eddie walked the cake to you slowly, candles flickering if he moved too fast. The last note seemed to drag on for an age, both Dustin and Lucas having a competition to see who could keep going longer. Dustin won.  

"Make a wish, princess" Eddie said to you, smiling widely.

You paused for a moment, thought your wish to yourself, and blew out the candles. Mike turned the light back on and you took a proper look at the cake in front of you. Eddie looked embarrassed.

"I've never made a cake before and the kitchen in the trailer isn't very good so it might taste like ass. I'm sorry" he said, setting it down on the bar and handing you a knife to cut the cake with. It was a little wonky, and the blue writing on top was uneven and borderline illegible, but it was the effort that had gone into it that choked you up. It took you a moment to understand that the green and yellow blobs of icing on top were Tinkerbell! Smiling so wide your cheeks were almost aching, you cut yourself a slice and forked a piece into your mouth. It was a little dry, but chocolatey and sandwiched together with jam and cream. 

"Delicious" you pronounced, not missing the look of relief on his face.

The rest of the gang descended on the cake, taking slices for themselves and once more breaking off into groups, chatting around the room as they ate their fill.

Eddie scooped up a piece of his own and crammed almost the full slice into his mouth in once go, a small bit of cream escaping and landing on his shirt. He scooped it up with one long, calloused finger, and moved to draw the finger up to his mouth. You grabbed his wrist and pulled the hand down to your mouth, sucking the cream covered fingertip into your mouth and running your tongue over it for several seconds. You maintained eye contact with Eddie, and watched as his gaze turned hungry and his breathing quickened. You released his finger with a small 'pop' and smiled at him goofily.

"I've never done that before, but I saw it in a movie once and I always wanted to try it." you told him conspiratorially.

He barked out a laugh and smiled at you, cupping your face in his hand and stroking your jaw gently with his thumb. It was his true smile, the one that very few people got to see. The one that creased his face and brought out the faintest hint of a dimple and looked about as close to sunshine in human form as any one person was ever likely to get. It was breath taking. He leaned his face down to yours, kissing you softly, before drifting his mouth closer to your ear and whispering "Tink, it's your birthday and I'm trying to be a gentleman here, so be a good girl and stop teasing, ok sweetheart?" 

You shivered in desire at his words and pressed yourself closer to him, kissing on his neck and sucking gently at the pulse point that was thudding rapidly. His arms came down to grip your hands, and so suddenly you almost lost your footing, he spun you out and back in toward him in time to the music that had started from the jukebox once more. You squawked a laugh in surprise, and the sexual tension dissipated as you settled in to dance. 

When 8pm rolled around, you hugged goodbye to the Hellfire crew who were heading home, thanking them from the bottom f your heart for making such a fuss of your birthday.  When their bikes had disappeared out of sight, you stood in front of the stage watching Eddie and his band warm up their instruments. You, Robin and Nancy danced in front of the small crowd most of the night. Whether by accident or design, the band played most of your favorite music. 

Eddie made eye contact with you fairly solidly through the first few numbers, presumably to make sure you were actually enjoying yourself. When he had relaxed a bit, you stuck your tongue out at him when he next looked at you. He huffed a laugh, his fingers never hesitating in their assault on the fret board. He walked forward to the lead singer's microphone and, during the next instrumental, hollered into it.

"Everyone with a working neck, follow along with me!" He then proceeded to break into a recreation of your demonic robot chicken head bob. Mortified, you couldn't help but laugh, at the certifiable lunatic on the stage, head thrusting in denim and leather while shredding the guitar. He was absolutely wild. And all yours.

You felt so light you were distantly worried that you might float away. The band began the opening chords of 'Home Sweet Home' by Mötley Crüe; your current song obsession. You squealed and rushed up to the stage, hopping up as Nancy and Robin whooped and hollered. You stood giddily next to the lead singer, who backed away to share the microphone with you, and you chimed in with a harmony line that you had been working on for weeks. As the song pulled to a close and your friends and the other patrons clapped and cheered, you turned, beaming, to catch Eddie's gaze. He was staring at you with complete, unmasked adoration. He looked utterly smitten. You imagined you must look pretty similar.

You blew him a kiss and jumped down to the floor again, hugging Robin and Nancy.

You were hot and sweaty when you made your way, laughing, to the bar for a quick water before detouring by the bathroom. On your way out, still drying your hands, you came face to face with Patrick. You recoiled and he scowled at you. 

"Not so tough now, are you, bitch?" he spat at you, before shouldering past you and into the men's bathroom. 

You shook off the encounter and made your way back out to the stage. Eddie made eye contact with you as he shredded the guitar with enthusiasm and no small amount of talent. It was...hot, to watch him be so good at it. It didn't make sense, but it was how you felt. Much the same as you felt when you saw him so effortlessly take control at Hellfire, seeing him be so adept at something was insanely sexy. 

Looking up at him and watching his clever fingers navigate the strings so effortlessly and intricately, you felt yourself get wet beneath your jeans. You added an extra shimmy into your dance and made eye contact with him in the most sultry way you could manage. His eyes darkened and his stare never wavered from yours. You licked your lips slowly at him, nibbling on your lower lip and half closing your eyes in an approximation of what you looked like right before you came. His stare turned downright feral. His easy playing had a level of ferocity and savagery to it now, he was no longer coaxing the music from the guitar, but demanding it. You shivered, no longer having to play up the arousal in your gaze. 

He powered through the last chorus of the song, before grabbing the microphone and announcing that the band were taking a break. He quickly whipped his guitar over his head, and you dimly realized that he was using the strap you had given him for Christmas. He put the guitar down, carefully but quickly, and in one leap was on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hand and out the door, past a very giggly Robin and Nancy.

He led you to his van, spinning you and pushing you against it, kissing you breathless in seconds. He hiked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, whimpering into his mouth as his tongue demanded submission from yours. Your head was spinning with how quickly the tables had turned from your attempt at teasing while he played. He set you down, opened the van and you stepped into the back. He was on you again instantly, the door closing behind him. He laid you down and was kissing and grinding against you as you whined and moaned. 

He broke the kiss to growl into your ear "that was naughty baby, distracting me when I'm playing, and now I don't have time to savor you the way I wanted to for your birthday. Jeans off sweetheart."

Your heart was thundering in support of his order and you fumbled for the button and zipper. No sooner had you gotten them past your hips, he was grabbing them by the belt loops and ripping them from your body, leaving you in just your panties and blouse on the floor of his van. He was staring at you like a man possessed, gaze dark, breaths panting from him. 

"I had it all planned out sweetheart. I was going to take you out to Lover's Lake after the show. I was going to undress you slowly and take my time with you. I was going to splay your gorgeous thighs and bury my face between them for hours. But now you've rushed me, and I've only got about 15 minutes to make you come before I have to go back out there and pretend I can't taste your wet cunt on my tongue." You were whimpering and rubbing your thighs together before he was even halfway through.

"What's your color, sweetheart?" he asked, hands gripping the soft skin of your calves and kneading them surprisingly gently considering the urgency of your kisses. You spread your thighs for him, moaning "green" and watching him try to control himself at the sight of you spreading your legs for him. 

He grabbed your panties and pulled them down your thighs and off, balling them up and sliding them into his back pocket.

It was nothing like the last time you'd been together. No gentle tease and frustrating edge. He held your thighs open with sure, strong hands, and immediately laid down to press his face to your pussy. You keened, high in your throat as he licked you from your hole up your slit to your throbbing clit. He wrapped one of his arms under your thigh and up over your hip, holding you down to stop your squirming. You were gasping for breath as he narrowed his ministrations to your clit, lapping at it with singular focus. He would swap to suckling motions and quick flicking motions, getting a feel for what you responded to most, before settling into a rhythm. His other hand settled beneath his chin, sliding a finger into your sopping wet hole. 

You moaned, loudly, clapping a hand over your mouth to contain the sound. He emerged from your core, looking feral, your wetness glistening on his lips and chin. "No you don't princess, let me hear you. Let me hear what I do to you baby. Keep those eyes on me." Maintaining eye contact he descended on you once more, immediately returning to the delicious rhythm, as a second finger joined his first inside your wet heat. He crooked them in that motion that had you mewling instantly. Your head dropped back, and he growled against your clit and you whimpered at the vibrations, propping yourself up on your elbows so that you could maintain eye contact as he devoured you. "Good girl" he said, briefly pausing his ministrations. 

You were biting your lip and panting as he methodically and systematically reduced you to a wet, quivering mess. Your thighs were trembling with every pass of his tongue, and the steady curl and massage of his fingers inside of you had you feeling so light-headed you barely recognized the press of the floor against your back, you were just floating in a haze of perfection. He had found the angle, tempo, and pressure that was going to get you there in no time at all, and he was relentless. His arm on your hip pulled you closer against his dangerous mouth, and you were powerless to resist the pleasure cresting inside of you.

"Eddie please" you whimpered, and he moaned in satisfaction against you, feasting on you like a starving man. "Eddie, I'm gonna come, please" you said and his moan turned into a whine. You could see him grinding his hips into the floor of the van but his rhythm never wavered and mere seconds later you collapsed against the van floor, your body erupting in convulsions that had you near-screaming in sensitivity. Your thighs were clamping around his head but he never paused, never hesitated, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your cunt until you were wrung out, trembling. He kissed his way up your body and kissed your neck until your body had settled. He sat you up and cuddled you against him, helping you get your jeans on when you felt steady enough to dress yourself. He flatly refused to give your panties back, and the brush of denim against your sensitive core had you mewling as you got the material properly situated.    

Dressed, you slid your hands up his thighs, but he stopped you with his hands on your wrists and a kiss to your temple.

"I have to get out there baby, or they'll come looking for me." 

You nodded your head, but you were disappointed. That was twice now and you wanted to get your hands on him! 

You stepped out of the van with him and the two of you re-entered the Hideout. He kissed your hand and dashed back on to the stage, grabbing his guitar and getting back into the set within moments. Maybe they really had been waiting for him. 

Robin and Nancy were looking at you with twin looks of shock, admiration, and a hint of envy. You caught sight of yourself in the mirror behind the bar as you made your way to them, and froze. Oh God. You looked TOTALLY fucked. Your hair a mess, your mascara smudged beneath your eyes, your lips swollen from having been bitten as you came.

"I have so many questions" said Nancy, pulling you on a barstool next to her. 

"I have no questions, but I would like a recreation in the form of an interpretive dance" quipped Robin. You made eye contact with Eddie on stage, and he raised an eyebrow at you, winking and grinning devilishly.

You settled in with a glass of lemonade, preparing yourself to be interrogated. 

Chapter Text

After a busy few weeks where you hadn't really had an opportunity to see each other without everyone else being present, you and Eddie set up a study date at your house for the following Saturday, knowing that your Mom was working a double and you would have some actual peace and quiet.

You got up a little earlier than you usually would on a Saturday, taking a little more care when applying your mascara and fluffing your hair. You tried to dress comfortably, but still prettily. You had been clear to Eddie that this was a study date, and while you were certain that there would be some studying, you also hoped that there might be some less academic endeavors too. It had been weeks since your birthday and you were growing antsy. You had barely had the privacy to share more than a chaste kiss in weeks and now that you knew exactly the kind of things your boyfriend was capable of, it was torture to wait. Not to mention, after over a month of being together, you still hadn't had your hands on him. You were adamant that that needed to change.

You whipped up a quick batch of cookies and a snack platter with the limited things you had in the kitchen pantry. You had had to get a little creative, but much like Eddie's birthday cake for you, the thought and the effort mattered a thousand times more than the end product.

Satisfied with your work, you brought the platter and some drinks through to your bedroom, made your bed, and scattered your study books onto it, in a way that you hoped looked inviting. This was stupid. Who in their right mind saw textbooks on a bed and thought "ooh how inviting". You put on an Iron Maiden tape and began drumming along to Run to the Hills with your fingers while you waited.

You began absent-mindedly air drumming along with the rapid beat of the song, gradually increasing in intensity until you were thrashing the imaginary drum kit and headbanging in time with the song. The climax of the song was approaching and you geared up for the big finish, choking on your own spit when a knock sounded at the window.

You swung around in horror to see Eddie waving at you from outside your bedroom window. You could tell how hard he was working to conceal his amusement, but it was dying to burst free. Face burning, you ran to the window to open it.

"What are you doing!?" you screeched, and tried to ignore the way his smile widened.

"I uh, I wasn't sure whether your Mom was home? I didn't wanna get you in trouble by coming in the front door" he explained, still doing his best not to convey how amusing he had found your impromptu performance.

His explanation softened your embarrassment. "Eddie, my Mom knows about you. About us. She knows you're coming today, she knows we're studying, she knows...that you're my boyfriend." You stumbled over the last part, realizing half-way through that the two of you had never had a conversation about whether you were official and exclusive.

His face went a lovely shade of pink as he levered himself through your window, dropping gracelessly onto your threadbare carpet.

"You told your Mom about me?" He asked, looking touched.

"Of course I did" you replied, heart racing, "I'm sorry, should I not have? I know we haven't-" you stopped abruptly mid-stream when he leaned forward and bit your bare calf. "Did you just bite me?" you asked in disbelief.

"Sweetheart, I am thrilled that you told your Mom. I just...wasn't expecting it, you know? I'm not exactly the kinda guy that Moms are thrilled to have brought home to meet them. I'm usually the dirty little secret." His tender smile had turned sad. "And yes, I bit you. I have no regrets and frankly I'd like to do it again!" He said, leaning forward and gnashing his teeth in the direction of your calves. You jumped back and yelped, and Eddie's grin turned primal at how well his little game had worked out. Climbing into a crouch he began bounding after you all over the room, threatening to bite you every time he got near, all the while you ran and squealed, eventually launching yourself into your bed and tucking your legs beneath you. He stood up, laughing, and kissed you.

He tried to deepen the kiss, and though it went against your every instinct you stopped him. "Eddie, we need to study, I want you to graduate with me!" He pouted in response and flung himself back fist onto your bed and huffed.

"Alright then Tink, quiz me."

The two of you studied and quizzed each other for the next hour. You were quizzing Eddie on key dates for the history exam when he began pacing around your room as he answered. To start with, he was merely fingering your tapes, flicking through them with interest between answers, but he soon got bored and made his way across to your closet. You were busy paying attention to the information on the cards, and so didn't see what he was doing rummaging around amongst your clothing. That is, until he turned around to answer a question wearing one of your pink skirts. It wasn't done up, and while he had kicked off his jeans, he was still wearing his white gym socks and his hi-top sneakers. He looked ridiculous.

You burst out laughing, your quiz forgotten, and he began strutting around the room, sashaying his hips and flicking his hair. He really did have lovely legs, toned and strong without being obviously bulky. The thin dusting of hair up the length of his shins looked soft to the touch.

"Princess, I've decided that it doesn't matter if I graduate or not because when I look this fantastic it's obvious that my modelling career will take off any day now" he said, pouting at himself in your small mirror. He began doing a series of high kicks like a cheerleader, before bounding over to your dresser in excitement. He lifted the lid on your jewelry box and handed it to you, indicating for you to turn the key.

You did so, laughing so hard you had tears in your eyes, and he began to prance around the room in a series of leaps, bounds, and very wonky pirouettes with his arms held over head in various poses. He looked deliberately serene, and after a few pirouettes where he figured out that his hair (and the skirt) would fly up if he spun fast enough, he lurched across to grab your hand, pulling you from the bed. You went to put your arms around his neck but he grabbed your wrists and took them to his waist.

"No no no Princess, I'M the girl here, my arms go on top!"

And so the two of you waltzed around the room to the tune of a long silent music box, until your laughs retreated to the occasional giggle. It took only another few minutes until you were standing mostly still, just swaying and smiling.

He was staring at you, eye contact intense. You watched his eyes flick down to the swell of your lower lip and felt the hitch in his breathing. You leaned up and kissed him, softly on the mouth, just once before retreating and sitting back on the bed. The mood had darkened into something exciting, and he watched you make your way to the bed with a predatory stare. It shouldn't be possible for a man in a skirt to look so imposing and in control, but he managed it.

He stalked toward you slowly, as you reclined against your pillow on the bed. Maintaining eye contact with you, he approached your snack platter and uplifted one of your cookies before setting on the bed opposite you. You crossed your legs and he shuffled in closer to you, still staring at you, eyes dark. He lifted the cookie toward your mouth and you tried to grab it from his hand, but he pulled it out of reach, tsking at you gently and lifting an eyebrow to chide your defiance.

Heart somersaulting in your chest, you opened your mouth and watched as his gaze dropped down to your lips, his breathing shallow and noticeable even over the music still playing gently in the background. He lifted the cookie to your mouth and you bit off a chunk, chewing gently and swallowing quickly. He leaned in and sucked a residual crumb of chocolate that was melting into your lip. You were powerless to prevent the breathy whine that escaped at the feel of his mouth on yours, his hand having dropped the cookie to instead cup your jaw as his tongue slid over the soft flesh of your lower lip. You parted your lips eagerly, reveling in the throaty groan he released when your tongues touched.

Emboldened by his obvious enjoyment, you pushed yourself forward, swinging yourself over his lap to straddle his thigh as his arm came around your waist to anchor you securely against his hard chest. Your arms slipped around his neck, tangling in his hair and clutching at his wide shoulders. He was nibbling on your lips and playfully teasing your tongue with his, and it took a few moments before you were conscious of the fact that you were circling your hips, grinding yourself against his thigh, desperate for some friction against your clit. His thigh was strong and hard, the soft dusting of hair (visible, thanks to him wearing your skirt), was tickling your bare inner thigh as your dress rode higher and higher up your hips while you sought release.

He broke the kiss briefly, one hand dropping to your hip to push your dress up enough that he had a clear view of your pussy rubbing on his bare thigh through your panties. He swore under his breath and his mouth was back on yours in no time, devouring you with more intensity, his hand still biting into the soft flesh of your hips so hard you hoped it might leave a mark.

You were both breathing heavily by that point, you were rocking against him in a rhythm that had pleasure coursing through you, your orgasm building in your core. You could tell the exact moment he felt your wetness leak through your panties onto his bare thigh, his groan was almost feral and he was grinding his thigh up into your pussy, matching your rhythm but with a bruising intensity that had you mewling.

But he switched gears. Pulling his hands to your shoulders, he pushed you back, laying you down against your pillows and staring at you hungrily as he tried to regain his composure. You were laid back, clenching and rubbing your thighs together, frustrated at the distinct lack of orgasm given that one had been impending only moments prior.

He put his hands on your knees and spread your legs, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath when he saw the mess you had made of your panties. He ran his hands up the smooth expanse of your thighs and hooked his fingers around the waistband, sliding them slowly down your thighs and off. He put them behind him and you hoped that he wasn't going to make a habit of stealing your panties because you really couldn't afford to keep replacing them if he was going to take every pair that you ruined with thoughts of him.

He knelt between your spread thighs, but too far back for you to be able to grind against him. He swung his legs out to sit properly, his legs widening into a vee shape that mirrored yours. He scooted in closer and slipped your thighs over his leaving only a foot between your arousal and his, which was still hidden by the poof of your skirt. He rubbed your thighs gently, leaving trails of goosebumps everywhere his fingers went and you were trembling with need. He lifted one of your thighs, bending the leg to kiss your knee, while never taking his eyes off of your pussy and how the movement had spread your lips . You could feel a fresh trail of arousal dripping from you, down onto your bedspread.

You could see him battling for control. With a deep breath, he leaned forward and gently took your hand, lowering it to your own core. You blushed deeply and tried to take your hand away, but he resisted.

"I wanna see how you make yourself feel good angel, can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and show me how you make that pretty pussy throb and leak when you think about me? Show me how you spread those pretty lips and tease that greedy clit thinking of me." His voice was husky, sounding totally wrecked. You were still so embarrassed, but his words had you squirming, inadvertently grinding your clit against your own fingers.

As soon as the first spark of that pleasure hit, you couldn't have torn your hands away if you'd tried. You started slow, conscious that you'd been so worked up from his thigh that it would be over way too soon if you didn't make a concerted effort to pace yourself. His breathing was shaky as he watched, enraptured as you slid two of your fingers up the length of your slit to circle your clit slowly, your hips gyrating once more.

You let out a soft whine at the contact and your head fell back, losing yourself in the familiar motions. He seemed to understand that speaking wasn't something you were capable of in that moment, but he kept up a steady commentary, his hands rubbing your thighs. "Fuck baby, is your clit sensitive? I bet it feels so good and wet, swollen under your fingers. Do you like to drag it out? Take your time and really let it build? Or are you too impatient sweetheart? Do you end up coming apart again and again, wishing it was my fingers instead of yours?" Your hips were bucking, wild with want from the dirty litany pouring from his mouth as he watched you play with yourself.

"Do you ever finger yourself princess? You ever slip your fingers into that sweet little hole?" He noticed the hesitation in your fingers and looked at you questioningly. You blushed, feeling suddenly insecure for reasons you couldn't quite articulate.

"I can't-I've never-the angle is really...I just.." You stuttered, your face feeling hot and your stomach squirming in embarrassment.

He leaned forward to kiss you, reassuring you that you had nothing to be embarrassed about. Leaning back he coaxed your hand lower, nodding at you encouragingly as you slid a finger into your hole. He groaned and had closed his eyes, his face screwed up in what looked like discomfort. The reaction emboldened you and you slid the finger in and out several times. It felt ok, but nothing like it had with Eddie's fingers inside of you. After a few moments he seemed to sense your frustration and he reached a hand to your core, your back arching at the first touch of his fingers on your clit, so gentle, circling it with the same rhythm he had seen you use. The pressure had you undulating your hips onto your finger. He slid his finger slowly down, before sliding it into your wet heat alongside your own, far more slender, finger. You whined quietly at the stretch, but you couldn't deny that it felt good.

"The trick with the angle, baby, is curvature." With that, he crooked his finger and pressed against that spot inside of you that made you mewl high in your throat. He relaxed his finger before encouraging your own finger to curl, readjusting you slightly until you felt the same sharp heat burst through you. The whine devolved into a loud moan as you massaged the spot, your hips circling with a mind of their own. Eddie was nearly panting, desperate to feel you come and so fucking turned on he could barely think straight.

You continued massaging the spot together, your moans getting higher and louder, but not loud enough to drown out the obscene, wet sounds of your fingers working together inside of you. Your finger started to cramp, but you couldn't straighten it without losing the pressure against that heavenly spot.

Sensing your internal battle, Eddie coaxed your finger out and back up to your clit before returning to your leaking hole with two fingers this time. His precision was masterful, playing you like a musical instrument as your back bowed and your thighs were trembling over his. You were keening, high in your throat and circling your clit feverishly.

The pleasure was overwhelming, you couldn't focus on any one sensation in particular, but the wave was building, stronger than it ever had before, pulling you under and threatening to drown you. You were gasping for every breath, so lost in your own pleasure that it took you a few moments to realize that he was speaking, quietly and desperately as his fingers relentlessly played with that spot inside of you.

"So gorgeous sweetheart, so perfect like this all spread out for me showing me that beautiful pussy. Love making you squirm like this princess, wanna watch you fall apart, wanna make you come all over me. Such a good girl for me, so precious, so sweet. That's my girl, come on sweetheart, come for me"

He didn't stop with his quiet murmuring and the pleasure built and built until you were nearly breathless, moaning and whining on every exhale, your head slung back, your hips gyrating mindlessly. When your orgasm broke, every muscle in your body seemed to contract at once and your moan turned into an almost silent scream, eyes closed, unable to do anything but accept and receive the pleasure detonating inside of you. Your body was trembling and convulsing, your eyes rolling back in your head, and you could hear Eddie groaning with you as the waves of white-hot pleasure at last started to recede. You were still shaking and breathless, but eventually he gently slid his fingers from your aching cunt, licking them clean with a quiet whine.

"Fuck baby, you're so perfect for me, you did so well, came all over me, I'm so proud of you sweetheart" the stream of praise seemed almost unconscious to him, and it took you a few moments to realize that he was right. The pink skirt he was wearing and his hellfire t shirt were covered in wet patches. Heat flooded your cheeks and your body tensed as waves of mortification rolled over you. He sensed your change in mood instantly and gathered you up into a cuddle, reassuring you gently into your neck and hair that it was normal and natural and that you had done so well and he was so proud of you. It took a while for the praise to soften the edge of your embarrassment, and eventually your body relaxed and he kissed you on the tip of your nose before laying you back against your pillows.

You dozed gently, worn out, as he padded out into the hallway, returning some minutes later, dressed in his jeans once more and with a water bottle and a washcloth that he gently cleaned you up with. He laid down with you and gathered you in close, feeding you bite sized pieces from your snack platter and reading questions to you from your flash cards in a hushed tone.

It wasn't until later that night, long after Eddie had left, that you were settling into bed and you realized that he had once again managed to dodge you touching him. Your stomach was churning with uncertainty. This wasn't something you had any experience with; the guys you had been with in the past weren't exactly shy about taking what they wanted. Eddie had been very generous, but had asked for nothing in return despite the fact that you had made it clear you were willing. Maybe he just...didn't want to? You fell into an uneasy sleep, trying to piece the puzzle of Eddie Munson together.

Chapter Text

You walked out of your last exam for the year. Well, your last high school exam of all time! The exam had been English, and as you walked out into the watery sunshine you stretched your wrists and rubbed circulation back into the dent that had formed where your pen had pressed against your finger. You cracked your neck, stretched your shoulders, and plonked yourself down on the bench at the edge of the school field, eyes closed against the sun. You mentally went over your essay answers and, when you had assured yourself that you were confident you had at least passed, reclined on the bench.

A shadow loomed over you and you smiled gently to yourself. There was only one person it could be.

"You know, I don't wanna switch Disney movies on you, but Sleeping Beauty needed a kiss to get up from her nap, and I am WAY more exhausted than she was." You said with a wry smile, eyes still closed.

"I'm not surprised to see you're just giving it away. If my only option was the Freak I'd be desperate for anyone else too."

You shot upright and swung around to face Patrick, heart galloping in fright at the sharp turn your afternoon had taken. You grabbed your school bag and began stepping backwards, suddenly aware of how isolated you were, so far from the main school buildings.

"You really need to get your pet dog to back the fuck off princess, or I'm gonna start getting pissed off. And I really don't think you're gonna like me when I'm pissed off." Your skin crawled. The pet name 'princess' which made your heart race from Eddie's mouth left the sour taste of bile in your throat when it came from Patrick.

"Please leave me alone, Patrick, I don't even know you." You said, trying not to let your voice shake.

"I don't think you're getting it. That Freak does not get to beat me. You don't say no to me and yes to him. There is nothing, NOTHING, that he has that I don't have. I am literally superior in every single way. He doesn't get to win."

He was sauntering toward you and your mouth had gone dry. You retreated on wobbly legs, mentally planning the easiest direction to run and contemplating your chances of beating him in a foot race.

You stared at each other as you completed this odd dance of pursuit and retreat.

"Patrick, I'm not doing this with you. It's super inappropriate. I can't imagine the principal being keen on letting you graduate if he hears you've been harassing students on school property." You were trying for logic and hoping he would see reason.

"I don't think the principal cares about trash, sweetheart." He looked so pleased with himself, looking you up and down and lingering on the obvious signs of wear on your jeans and shoes. You hated that you felt the prickle of shame climb up your neck.

"Do we have a problem here McKinney?" Your heart leapt in relief at the sound of Eddie's voice, and you turned to see him sauntering, seemingly at ease, toward the two of you. "Because I seem to recall that the last time we had a problem, you didn't enjoy my solution very much." You watched the angry flush rise up Patrick's cheek as you looked at Eddie in confusion.

"Whatever, freak." Patrick spat on the ground at Eddie's feet and began retreating.

Eddie lurched toward him, barking like a feral dog so loudly that Patrick tripped and fell to the ground in fright, scooting backwards to get away.

"Even pet dogs have teeth patty-cake. Run along now, I'll be seeing you later." He blew a kiss in Patrick's direction. Patrick had pulled himself to his feet, furiously dusted himself off and was stalking back toward the main building as Eddie turned to you with a crooked grin. "Hi Tink. I hope you don't mind me interrupting?"

You wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled your face into his chest. "He scares me." Eddie turned unusually serious and cupped his hands on either side of your jaw to tilt your face to his.

"I will never. Ever. Ever. Let that creep do anything to hurt you, sweetheart," he said, punctuating his words with small kisses to your nose, chin, forehead and cheeks. "Now, let's go get a pizza because I just wrote more in one exam than I think I have in my entire high school career combined, and I need to replenish my strength for when I inevitably end up in a dance battle to the death at Harrington's party tonight."

As the two of you were walking toward the parking lot, you remembered what had confused you about his interaction with Patrick. "Hey, what did you mean earlier, when you said to Patrick about him not liking your solution to the problem?"

Eddie's face turned sheepish and pink. He prevaricated, but you began jabbing your fingers into his sides, tickling him mercilessly as he yelped and squirmed.

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT TINK! TIIIINK! I'll tell you! I ran into McKinney after Steve's party at the start of the year? I was already pissed at him for pushing you over that time, and then I saw him putting his hands all over you when I knew you didn't want it... He and his douchey friends are always whispering about how Hellfire is Satan worship so I just...leaned into it, I guess. Just to frighten him!" Eventually Eddie told you the full story. The morning after the party, while you had been obsessing over whether or not you had ruined everything by kissing him, he had smeared his face with fake blood and 'borrowed' a pig heart from his friend Vinnie at the butcher shop in town. He had waited for Patrick to emerge from Sunday practice and accosted him en route to his car, frightening the bejeesus out of him until he had literally pissed himself in fear. Mostly satisfied, Eddie had planned to leave it there but Patrick had reportedly made some particularly unflattering remarks about you and Eddie had snapped, punching him several times in the face and 'cursing' him before leaving. That explained why you had seen Patrick looking so bruised that day, walking into the admin building!

You were torn between being horrified at the lengths Eddie had gone to to achieve retribution, and swooning at how protective he was of you.

Thankfully you were saved having to pass any formal judgement by the impending arrival of Steve and Robin. Steve was piggybacking Robin who was waving her schoolbag around above her head like a lasso and wailing her best battle cry as the two rushed toward you.

Exams were over. It was time to party.

In typical Steve fashion, the low-key post-exam celebration had turned into a rager with just about your entire school year invited. You were clutching your sides in pain, doubled over with laughter watching a very drunk Steve try to drink from the opposite side of a cup to cure his hiccups. All he was succeeding in doing was drenching his shirt with progressively more and more water until it was sticking to him like a second skin and dripping wet patches everywhere he turned. He just couldn't seem to figure out where it was all going wrong.

Eddie wandered into the kitchen, slightly drunk and strumming air guitar to the Metallica song thrumming through the speakers in Steve's lounge. His eyes lit up when he saw you and he skipped toward you, scooping you into a hug that had your feet lifting from the ground. You squealed and wrapped your legs around his waist, interlocking your ankles against his back and holding tightly to his shoulders. He laughed and spun you around before sitting you on the kitchen counter and kissing you deeply, the taste of weed filtering through your senses.

You shrieked and pulled away when you realized that Eddie had inadvertently sat you in one of the large water puddles left behind by Steve's hiccup misadventure. Steve was intermittently laughing dopily and hiccuping. You scooted off the counter and turned to try and assess the damage to your jeans. You looked like you'd pissed yourself. Eddie sobered at your murderous expression and raised his hands in surrender, handing you a kitchen towel with a goofy smile. You swirled the towel and eyed him with a grin. His gaze widened as he realized your intention and he backed away slowly before bolting into the lounge amongst the throng of people where your towel-whip couldn't reach him.

Drying your jeans with a chuckle, you realized Steve was still staring at you.

"I would say take a picture, but I saw how sticky that magazine in your room was and I am NOT signing up for that, Harrington. So what gives? I got something on my face?" You said, grinning cheekily at him and laughing when he processed your comment about his sticky magazine.

"I've known Munson for a lot of years now, you know. Not always like friends, but he's been around in one way or another since elementary, man. I've never seen him look so happy. He always looks like a caged dog, right? Like his skin doesn't fit him properly? But with you? Settled. I like it. Keep up the good work, soldier. But be warned that if you marry him I reserve best man rights because if he chooses Dustin over me I will legitimately cry. And if you told anyone I said that I'll cut a hole right where your big toe is in every single one of your socks from now until eternity." His drunken ramble trailed off as he refilled his punch cup and exited the room with a graceless bow.

Your face was warm and your insides were squirming pleasantly at the thought that maybe Eddie was in fact as affected by you as you were him. He was so charismatic and energetic and affectionate that it was often difficult to tell what was just his natural enthusiasm and what was solely a result of you. It was what had kept you from telling him you loved him. That, and the fact that him constantly dodging your attempts at having sex with him had left your confidence more than a little shaken.

But Steve had unknowingly given you just the boost you needed. Finishing your cup of punch, you wandered back into the lounge, trying to see that mane of hair over the writhing bodies in the darkness. You were craning your neck to be able to see when a hand on your wrist stopped you. It was Patrick. You were going to kill Steve. He needed to learn not to invite ass-hats to his parties. You scowled at Patrick and wrenched your arm out of his grasp, turning to walk away.

"If you're looking for your boyfriend, he just went upstairs with Chrissy Cunningham," he sneered.

You froze, ice flowing through you and solidifying into a leaden mass in your stomach. You mentally shook yourself. Patrick was a liar. And a bully. And you had no reason to believe anything he said without proof. But you couldn't see Eddie anywhere and there were plenty of legitimate reasons why he might be upstairs. The spare bathroom?

You walked away from Patrick without a backward glance, ascending the stairs and assessing the empty hallway. You meandered down the hallway toward the spare bathroom, startling when the bedroom door back down the hall flew open and Chrissy and Eddie filed out, laughing. Chrissy froze when she saw you over Eddie's shoulder, her smile dropping, before she hurried down the stairs and back to the party. Eddie, not having seen you, followed her down the stairs.

You swallowed thickly and tried to control your racing thoughts. It didn't necessarily mean anything. You couldn't jump to conclusions without evidence. You knew he was her dealer, maybe it was just a business transaction. In a bedroom. At a party. 

You screwed your eyes closed and gave up on trying to control your brain. Instead, you slipped down the stairs, collected some drinks, and found yourself a spot to think. 

You spent the next hour hiding and getting progressively drunker on a range of warm beer and sugary punch. When your head felt fuzzy and you felt like you were swimming in treacle every time you moved, you decided to emerge from your hiding place beneath Steve's long-forgotten ironing board. You floated through the house, out the back door and laid down on the grass of Steve's back garden.

Singing gently to yourself and looking at your hand against the backdrop of the stars, you giggled at how strange your hand looked. Had it always looked that way? You thought of the saying about knowing something like you know the back of your hand. Your giggle devolved into a full cackle. Clearly you didn't know your hand at all!

Following the sound of your laugh like a beacon, Eddie emerged out the back door less than a minute later, looking relieved at the sight of you, unhurt, but very drunk. He closed the door behind him, muting the raucous sounds of the party and descending the steps toward you.

Your laugh quietened and stopped when he flopped to the ground beside you, the two of you looking at the stars.

In your peripheral vision you saw him open his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

"You know, I think you're really smart. In like a psychic way. Because you call me Tink, even though it isn't my name, but I am Tinkerbell really, aren't I?" You were rambling, but the alcohol had dissolved your inhibitions and numbed some of your residual hurt.

"How do you figure?" He asked, slowly, trying to piece together where you were going with the odd line of thought.

"Well think about it! If I'm Tinkerbell, that makes you Peter Pan! You have the Hellfire boys crowding around you looking for guidance; they're the lost boys. Robin is obviously Captain Hook because she's secretly evil but is a very snappy dresser, Steve is Smee, her innefe- inneifi- her useless sidekick. It all makes sense!"

He was smiling at you gently. "I can live with that but maybe don't let Steve hear you say that princess, ok?"

You were on a roll at this point and you propped yourself up on one elbow, ignoring the way that the ground kept moving long after you thought you had stopped. "But you're missing the most important part Eddie!"

"What's that sweetheart?"

"Tink loved Peter Pan, but Peter Pan didn't love Tink. Peter loved Wendy! See? It all makes sense! Wendy was pretty and sweet and smart, and Tinkerbell was honestly kinda annoying. I'm Tinkerbell! And Chrissy perfect-tits-doesn't-look-like-she-pissed-herself Cunningham is Wendy. And you're Peter Pan, the one who'll never be a boring, old, mortgage-obsessed adult. You'll be young and fun and perfect forever." Your mood had returned to its melancholy state by the end of your speech and you flopped back onto the ground. The numbness was receding, and that wouldn't do at all. You liked it much better when feeling wasn't a thing you could do.

"You've got it all wrong sweetheart," Eddie began, and you opened your mouth to argue, "nah uh, my turn angel, can you do that for me?" he asked, eyeing you sternly. You nodded weakly, suddenly feeling very fragile.

"That's not how this story ends, I don't care if Peter wants Wendy in the story. I will rewrite every fairy tale in history so that it ends with me and you. I don't want anyone else sweetheart, I just want you. You're it for me. So, sorry Mr Barrie, Peter Pan has a new plot line now. Wendy gets fed to a crocodile and Tink and Peter Pan live happily ever after." He was begging you with his eyes to believe him.

"Who's the crocodile?" You asked. He huffed a laugh and dropped his head to your shoulder in disbelief.

"It doesn't matter who the crocodile is! I don't like Chrissy Cunningham! I love you! You, and your ridiculous dance moves, and your flouncy skirts, and your sarcasm, and your cookies, and your art, and your insistence on seeing the best in people even when they absolutely don't deserve it."

You felt the goofy smile stretch your face to the point of discomfort. "You love me."

He exhaled in relief "Yes, I love you."

"Even though you won't have sex with me?" You asked, guilelessly. Your cheeks colored as you processed that the question had come out loud. But your blush was nothing compared to his, his entire face going beet red.  

"Tink that's- Please don't- oh god I can't believe we're having this conversation drunk in Steve Harrington's yard." The last part was muttered under his breath. He studiously avoided eye contact as he continued. "Do you have any idea how I see you?" He asked, voice sounding strained. You shook your head, not wanting to disturb the flow of his thoughts by speaking. "You are sunshine, Tink. You are quite literally the best part of my day most days and there is nothing, and I mean NOTHING that I wouldn't do for you. I'd be one of those boring, mortgaged, accountant guys for you if that was what made you happy. But I'm not an idiot, and I've seen this scenario play out plenty of times before, Tink. Guys like me don't get the princess, or the happy ever after, or the white picket fence and 2.5 kids." He looked pained as he continued, the words seeming to claw their way out of him, such a stark contrast to his usual easy nature. "Sex is important, and it means something, to me at least. Fooling around is one thing but I can't...I couldn't...It would be so much harder to give you up if you changed your mind after I'd made love to you."

The sadness seemed etched into his bones and your heart ached for the uncertainty he must have felt all these weeks being unsure of your attachment because you had been too insecure to tell him. 

"Did you know I broke my arm once?" You asked him, watching confusion filter through his expression at your redirecting the conversation. "Yeah, in school back in Indianapolis. My friends...well, who I thought were my friends...they threw this car wash fundraiser for their committee at school and they roped me into getting all sudsy on the car. Me, being a total klutz, slipped and fell and broke my arm. Spent most of my summer with a cast on." You paused, unsure how to articulate what you were feeling. "I spent...a long time, trying to be what they wanted me to be. There were so many different versions of me to suit their needs and their preferences. I just kept twisting and contorting myself to fit inside their ridiculous boxes, and it was never enough. Then when everything went down with my Dad...it was scary, realizing that I actually had no idea who I was, underneath all of that."

You put your hand on his cheek and gently urged him to make eye contact with you.

"You saw me. Actually me. Right from that first moment at the traffic lights. And you don't know how good it feels to be seen, Eddie, when you've been fading away even from yourself for so long. You saved me. That, to me, is worth more than anything else anyone could offer me. I don't care about mortgages and accountants or any of it. I just want you. I see you. This? You and me? This is everything I need, and I have no intention of walking away. So unless you have any other objections, I would really really really like you to make love to me."

His face looked so torn. He was clearly elated at your words, and the love and warmth was radiating from every fiber of his being, but his expression had turned embarrassed, his cheeks pink. 

"There's-I mean...well, I guess, something else. Kinda. Nothing serious!" He was stuttering and nervous. You raised an eyebrow at him to indicate he should spit it out.

"Let's use your analogy for a second here sweetheart. Let's say you're Tinkerbell and I'm Peter Pan...there are certain...logistical problems...because of their...size...difference. Peter Pan is a lot...bigger...than Tinkerbell." His face was glowing and he had screwed his eyes up toward the end of the sentence.

The words filtered through your brain slowly, but when realization hit, you gasped. "Oh!"

He looked mortified. "Yeah, oh."

"This explains so much! This is why you never let me reciprocate! I thought you just didn't want me!" You giggled.

His eyes sprang open and he looked at you in horror. "Is that what you thought!?" You nodded sheepishly.

He laughed without humor, leaning over you to grab your hand and placing it to the bulge in his pants. "Does this feel like I don't want you?" It was thick and huge even through the distortion of his jeans. Jesus H fucking Christ. You rubbed your palm over it, sitting up and pushing him flat on the ground so that you had a better angle. He grabbed your wrist.

"Sweetheart, I am literally begging you to stop. I have spent MONTHS fantasizing about what it's gonna feel like to make love to you, to be buried inside you, but I'm not gonna do that when you're drunk baby. So you need to stop because my self-control is not that good and I want to be a good man for you." He looked pained and it was only the expression of pure agony on his face that convinced you to let go.

You pouted at him and returned your hands to your own lap. "I love you too you know. Did I mention that? I feel like I should have mentioned that. Does it alter your decision about ravishing me at all?" You asked hopefully, scowling when he smiled but shook his head.

"Hey, what were you doing with Chrissy? Upstairs in the bedroom." You asked, needing to resolve it in your mind so that you could move on.

His expression turned serious. "Chrissy and Jason have a...turbulent relationship. I've been encouraging her to leave him but she won't do it until she's graduated and can get away from him without also having to see him every day. Sometimes she needs stronger pain relief than what you can find in a pharmacy, and she needs it no questions asked. No questions asked is kind of my business," he said with a sad smile.

Your mind was reeling, feeling guilt churning in your stomach for how you had painted her as a villain in your story when she was simply trying to survive her own.

"You're a good man, Eddie, I hope you know that" His cheeks turned rosy at your words.

"You know, I saw the strangest thing the other day," he said, his grin widening as he tried to brighten the tone of your conversation. "I was playing guitar with my favorite guitar strap on and the strangest thing happened to catch my eye. There were these tiny little letters, and I squinted at it for ages before I figured out that it said "I heart Eddie!"" 

Your face flushed, heat creeping up your neck. He grinned widely at you, leaning in to kiss you on the tip of your nose.

"You know that's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me sweetheart," he said, voice low and eyes adoring, "it's now one of my most prized and valuable possessions".

You buried your face into his neck, embarrassed, and blew a raspberry on it until he was squirming and laughing, pushing you off gently.

He stood and pulled you to your feet, kissing you once more, gently, and whispering that he loved you. Then he took your hand and tugged you back toward the door where the party was still in full swing.

The two of you rejoined the festivities, joining a circle of people dancing to 'Come on Eileen' and laughing as Steve and Robin challenged each other to a dance battle in the middle of the circle. Robin was obviously taking some inspiration from country and line dancing, kicking her heels up and grapevining through the circle with her thumbs in her imaginary belt loops. She finished with a complicated two-step turn maneuver and tipped her imaginary hat to Steve. He considered for a moment, before breaking in to what you thought was supposed to be a Riverdance style dance, but in reality looked more as though he had been tazed. You howled with laughter, Eddie's arms around you, holding you from behind as you fell apart. 

You didn't know whether it was the alcohol, or the emotional conversation with Eddie, or the laughter from the dance battle, but you felt tears well up in your eyes. You were happy. Truly and honestly happy, no reservations, no pretending to be someone you weren't. Just you, being yourself with people who loved you, in a life that you had made your own. 

Overwhelmed with gratitude for these people who had welcomed you into their fold without hesitation, you turned in Eddie's embrace and flung your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

"Thank you, for being you." You said to him between kisses. He looked at you in wonder, pulling you close and resting his chin on the top of your head as you swayed to the music.

Life was good.  
 

Chapter Text

The final Hellfire club meeting of the year was bittersweet to say the least. While you were sure that the club would be in good hands with Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will if Eddie graduated, it was sad to consider that the the likelihood of getting to spend an hour a week with everyone exploring those campaigns was unlikely. Eddie was right, whether he knew it at the time or not. D&D had saved you. They all had. You would miss the monsters and the weapons and the incredible feats of villainy and heroism as you collectively navigated insane circumstances under Eddie's watchful gaze. You would miss the triumphs and defeats. You would miss the inspiration behind some of the greatest art you had ever created. But most of all you would miss the people, who had taken the pieces of you that you thought were broken and instead shown you the beauty in your jagged edges.

As you all gathered around, you were brought back into the tension of the campaign as Eddie took his spot at the head of the table. The Vecna campaign had been brutal. Each time you thought you understood how to beat him, the landscape had changed and on no less than three occasions you discovered that you had unwittingly been playing into his hands all along. But it had finally been time for the final show down. You were sure that Vecna still had cards to play up his sleeve, and you didn't think for a moment that Eddie was going to take it easy on you, but you felt in your bones that you would win.

The tension in the room was palpable as you got underway. Erica was taking charge, leading group discussions about strategy while Eddie grinned, hands steepled under his chin at the other end of the table. That look rarely meant anything good.

You turned your back to Eddie, determined to focus, and settled into tactical discussions, mind already racing.

Considering there was no physical element to D&D, you were sweating. The gods of dice rolls had not been on your side and after almost a full hour, it was down to the wire. Dustin's character was knocked out, Will on such low health that you had buried him in the back of the party behind Erica. You were running out of time, and for the first time your confidence wavered. Maybe you couldn't do this.

You knew that if Vecna survived one more turn you were all toast. There was no way Will would survive and without both Will and Dustin, the damage split between the remaining members of the party would oneshot almost all of you. You had to act, and you had to do it quickly.

There was only you and Erica left to go. Erica was rolling the dice around in her hand, staring at the battlefied as if hoping it would give her the answer.

Mathematically you weren't sure it was possible. Your distance from Vecna, combined with an earlier altercation that had left your hardest hitting weapon shattered on a stone altar, meant you didn't actually think you could do enough damage to bring him down to a level that Erica could defeat. A thought whirled in your brain and you grabbed it with both hands, tapping her on the shoulder, a plan already forming in your mind.

"I have an idea" you whispered, "do you trust me?" She nodded, still concerned.

You took a deep breath and turned to Eddie.

"I attune myself to Vecna's book of Vile Darkness." You say, and listened to the spluttering gasps of your team mates, and watched the proud gleam in Eddie's eyes.

"You know the risks, Tink, are you sure you wanna do this? No shame in running." He said, a small smile on his face.

"I'm sure," you said.

"You need a 17 Charisma, Tink. Roll your life away."

You were thankul that Eddie had fudged the numbers when you were building your character, as you were the only person in the party whose charisma was high enough that there was even a shadow of a chance that it would work. Your palms were sweaty and you shook the dice in your fist, breathing deeply and thinking happy thoughts of your time with Eddie, trying to transform your own happiness into luck. Your fist uncurled and the dice flew from your fingers, rolling along the table. 18. You whooped and jumped, joining in with the hollering of the table.

"I TAKE CONTROL OF THE MONSTER TO VECNA'S LEFT" you shouted, over the noise of your teammates.

After successfully taking control of the monster and using the monster (which was much stronger than you) to lodge an attack against Vecna, you had successfully lowered him to only 4 hit points. You were so close. Erica approached the table as you retreated, American flag waving patriotically from around her neck as she lodged her attack against Vecna. This was it, the moment of truth.

She announced her attack and took the dice in her hand. The table was silent, and the tension was so thick it was almost stifling. She flung the dice, and it rolled along the length of the table, slowing to a stop right by Vecna's figurine. Nat 20. You squealed and grabbed Erica, the two of you jumping and cackling as Eddie shouted over the din, describing Vecna's death in gory detail. You couldn't believe you had done it! There had been so many moments when you didn't think you could.

You looked at Eddie, beaming, to find him already looking at you, soft and proud. That moment had been almost cinematic, and mentally you were already planning how you would transpose it into art, the lines you would use, the colour. The idea formed slowly in your mind, that a full sized painting of that moment would make a fantastic graduation present for Eddie; a culmination of his many years at the helm of the Hellfire club.

You tabled the idea as something you would plan later, knowing how well he could read your face and not wanting to give away that you were plotting something.

You blew him a kiss and he laughed, coming to join the rest of your party as you dissected the campaign and your favourite moments. He came to stand behind you, slinging his arms around your shoulders and kissing your temple.

You were listening to Dustin's dramatic re-enactment of the final moments, complete with actions, when Eddie leaned close to you once more, this time to speak, low enough that he couldn't be heard by anyone other than you.

"That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life Tink. I'm so fucking proud of you. D'you wanna come around to my place after this? I think a celebration is in order." His voice was husky and you couldn't mistake his meaning, especially not when he nibbled gently on your earlobe before pulling away, goosebumps erupting all up your neck at the sensation. His hips rocked into yours from behind and you were almost lightheaded at the feel of him rubbing against you. Everything you had been aching for for so long was finally within your reach. Suddenly focussing on the conversation around you seemed impossible. You mind was thick with lust, the promise in his words diverting one hundred percent of your attention.

The conersations continued around you for several minutes more, and internally you grew more and more antsy. You enjoyed your last few moments together as a party as they began to pick up their bags and wish you all goodbye. You gave them all hugs and thanked them for a wonderful year of Hellfire and for all of their support, then waved them goodbye as they all departed.Finally it was just you and Eddie remaining in the room.

He had packed away his things and was looking at you with a primal hunger that made you throb in anticipation. He was leaning against the desk, legs crossed in front of him. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you toward him.

On shaky legs you walked closer until you were right in front of him. He took your hands and walked you even closer until his arms were around you and your legs were on either side of his.

"You know sweetheart, I've been thinking about what you said at Stevie's house the other week. About how you thought I didn't want to have sex with you?" He said, eyes hooded and voice still husky with barely-restrained need. You flushed at the reminder of how tactlessly you had blurted out that particular chestnut, but nodded for him to continue. "How long had you been feeling like that, princess?" he asked, noting how you squirmed uncomfortably at having to answer. "I want you to be honest with me sweetheart, how long?"

"Since my birthday," you stuttered out, quietly.

He tsked at you. "Now I may not know much about relationships darling, but I know that if they're going to work, you need to be able to communicate with each other, don't you?" You nodded at him, not sure where he was going with this. "Do you think you should have communicated with me about how you were feeling earlier baby?" He asked you, and again, you flushed and nodded, confused. "That's my good girl. Do you think you should be punished for not telling me sooner, angel?" He asked, fingers now tracing patterns on the insides of your wrists.

Your breath caught and hundreds of images flashed through your mind, some from your dream, some from fantasies of him you had indulged in, all overwhelming you with immediate desire that rocked you to your core. You nodded emphatically, breathing rapidly.

"That's my good girl, I agree. Do you remember your colours for me?" He asked, and you nodded quickly.

He placed a kiss on your forehead and stood, grasping your hand and shouldering his bag. "Let's go then princess".

He walked you to his van, detouring by the bike racks to get your bike and strap it in the back. You slid into your seat and he buckled you in, kissing your neck until your pulse was erratically thundering through your body, before closing your door and assuredly walking to the driver's side and settling in.

For once he kept the music low, driving with one hand confidently on the wheel, and the other on your thigh. You were so turned on and he hadn't even really touched you yet!

When you finally reached the trailer, he unbuckled himself and scooted across the middle seat of the van to unbuckle you, kissing you deep and slow as he did so. He nibbled at your lip teasingly, in a way that left your head spinning.

He hopped out of the van, coming around to open your door and lifting you to the ground, smirking at your dazed expression. He took your hand and walked you into his trailer, closing the door securely behind him.

He grabbed you both some water and took you through to his bedroom, setting the water down next to his bed and looking at where you had stopped in the doorway. Your eyes were glued to the handcuffs next to his bed, core aching and breathing shallow with need. You closed the door to his room and looked at him.

He toed off his sneakers and reclined on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He was looking at you hungrily, but he stopped you when you made to move toward him.

"What's your colour baby?" He asked, voice gravelly.

"Green."

"Good girl, thank you for telling me. Do you wanna come sit with me on the bed?" You nodded again and he indicated for you to join him. You toed off your shoes and sat next to him, uncertain about what you were meant to do.

He gathered you in close and kissed you, his mouth exploring yours, teeth nibbling at your lip only to soothe the sting with his tongue. You were mindless with the pleasure of his mouth, rocking your hips against nothing, desperate for friction. His hand slipped around your throat as you kissed and your pussy throbbed as he held you firmly, but without applying any real pressure. You whined at the domineering move and he chuckled against your mouth.

He kissed you until you felt desperate, wanting more, wanting what he had promised. Your impatience won and eventually you broke away from his mouth. "I thought you were going to punish me?" you asked, breathless and trembling with desire. He smiled at you and returned to your mouth. The kiss was different this time though, more demanding instead of coaxing. You were reminded of how he played the guitar at your birthday party and your thighs clenched in anticipation of being on the receiving end of all of that primal power.

His hand skimmed up your side, dragging your shirt with it, pulling it up, over your bra and over your head, breaking the kiss momentarily as you pulled your arms free and tossed the shirt aside. He moved his attentions to your throat, licking and sucking his way to that sensitive part where your throat met your jaw, and focussing on it until you were whining. His hand trailed up your ribcage, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and gently traced up and over the cup of your bra before his hand settled on the mound, cupping it firmly. His thumb found your nipple through the fabric of your bra, circling the hard flesh until it was aching with each pass. The extra sensitivity of the fabric of your bra being rubbed again and again over the tender flesh added a deeper dimension to the pleasure and you were almost mindless with desire. He sucked the point at your jaw and then bit it right as his finger and thumb pinched your nipple, rolling it between the two digits until you keened, back arching and hips circling in search of pleasure. He kissed down from your throat over the smooth expanse of your collarbone and down to your breast. His hand detoured around to your back, deftly unhooking the bra and freeing your breasts. You pulled your arms free and impatiently threw the garment aside. He huffed a laugh at your impatience, hand resting on your bare thigh as his mouth lowered to your aching nipple. He ran his tongue in a wide circle around your nipple, the circle getting smaller each time until he finally ran the wet heat over the engorged nub, causing you to arch into him. He sucked it into his mouth and rolled it softly between his lips, scraping it gently with his teeth until you were whining. His hand slid further and further up your thigh until it was cupping your ass under your skirt, kneading and gently squeezing you. He groaned against you, suckling the flesh at your breast as his hand pushed up to wrench the waistband of your panties down. You lifted your hips to help him discard them and kicked off your socks so that only your skirt remained.

He broke the kiss and sat up, his back against the headboard of his bed. His mouth was red and his lips looked swollen. You couldn't even imagine how debauched you looked. "I want you to lay face down over my knee, can you do that for me, baby?" He asked, voice little more than a growl.

You sat up, moving to remove your skirt, but his hand stopped you.

"Leave that on. You've been torturing me with these skirts for the better part of a year, I have unfinished business with them."

You laid down over his knee, your face pressing into the duvet at his side. You inhaled deeply the smell of sweet smoke and Eddie's cologne. His hands stroked up the backs of your bare thighs, and you shivered as he pushed the fabric of your skirt up until it exposed the swell of your ass. He groaned as he kneaded your ass cheeks with his large hands, and you squirmed, desperate for his touch where you ached to have him most.

"Spread your legs for me baby, let me see that pretty pussy."

You flushed at the graphic instruction but did as he bid, spreading your legs and feeling the cold air against the wet heat of your cunt. He groaned again, louder this time as he saw how wet you already were.

"I think that because it was your 18th birthday when you should have told me how you were feeling, I should spank you 18 times in punishment. What's your colour sweetheart?"

"Green," you said on a whine, trying to resist the urge to close your legs and rub your thighs together.

"Good girl, you're going to count them for me, make sure I don't lose count."

The first slap of impact against your ass jolted you forward and caused your clit to grind against his thigh, sending bolts of pleasure through you. The sting settled into warmth and you moaned. "One!"

"Good girl, you're doing so well for me sweetheart."

The next four came close together but spread over both cheeks, some right on the center and some lower toward the crease of your thigh. You counted dutifully, trying to ignore the desperate ache of your pussy.

He slid his left hand up your thigh and along your slit. Your body trembled as he gently circled your clit with his fingers, and you almost sobbed as he moved his hand to slide two fingers into the dripping heat of your cunt. He kept his left hand inside you, fingers curled to determinedly massage that maddening spot inside of you, as his right resumed his assault of your ass cheeks. Counting had become much harder to manage. And he had to quietly correct you about the number twice by the time you reached fifteen.

His fingers inside you were driving you wild; you instinctively clenched around his fingers with each impact, increasing the pressure on that spot and making you sob. Each spank of his hand caused warmth to spread over you, and your clit to bump his leg and shoot pleasure through your body. The combination of sensation was overwhelming and you were desperate to come. The pleasure had built so high but the pressure on your clit wasn't consistent enough to tip you over. There were only three left.

"You're doing such a good job baby, being so good for me, taking your punishment so well. What's your colour sweetheart?" He asked, taking a small pause to stroke his hand over the tender flesh of your ass.

You sobbed out "green" as your hips were circling, seeking friction to complement the relentless pressure on that spot inside you.

Sixteen was the hardest one he had given you, right on the center of your right cheek, and you could feel it jiggle with the impact for several seconds afterward. The fingers inside you picked up their pace and you fisted your hands in the duvet, clinging desperately as the pleasure rose even higher. The wet sounds were obscene.

Seventeen matched the intensity but instead was focussed on your left cheek, and your clit throbbed as it nudged his thigh again. Your legs were trembling and your breathing was all over the place. You couldn't think straight, and started trying to lift your upper body up so that you could push pack against his fingers and tip yourself over the edge. The hand that was delivering the blows gently pressed on the back of your neck and held you down again as his fingers continued their assault inside of you.

'Eddie, please" you sobbed, so damnably close to oblivion.

He lifted the hand from the back of your neck and delivered the last spank, right on the crease between both cheeks and you wailed as you once again jolted forward and pressed your clit against him. "Eighteen!" You moaned.

"Well done baby, you did so well, my good girl, taking whatever I give you. Gonna make you feel so good baby I promise, gonna make it all better" His hand returned to the back of your neck, stroking gently this time at your nape, as the thumb of his other hand descended on your clit. His fingers were still curling inside you, and your back bowed with the instant rush of sensation. The orgasm had been just out of reach for so long and now you were hurtling toward it at full speed. His hand on your neck held you steady as the pleasure began to crest at last. Your moan was pornographic as the sensation took you, your body seizing, limbs locking up and shuddering as the pleasure washed through you. Every part of your body clenched and released convulsively, and you were faintly conscious of the liquid coming from between your legs as Eddie continued coaxing your orgasm from you.

When the pleasure at last began to recede and your trembling body collapsed against him, Eddie withdrew his fingers and gathered you close, kissing you and cuddling you.

His mouth was still demanding against yours, sucking on your lower lip and stroking against the bare skin of your back as your aching nipples brushed against the fabric of his Hellfire shirt. You put your hands on the hem of his shirt and he helped you take it off. When his tattoos were finally revealed, you attacked them with fervour, tracing them with your tongue and scraping your teeth against them until you felt him shudder beneath you. It was clear that his self-control was near its breaking point.

He scooted down the bed so that he could lay down properly, and you straddled him on shaky thighs as you continued to explore and tease his exposed skin. He looked wrecked and his hips were grinding up into you. You paused in your exploration of the tattoo on his collarbone to help him shuck off his jeans and socks so that he was in only his boxers. You reached behind yourself to unzip your skirt, pulling it up and over your head, before resuming your exploration. You reached a hand between your bodies to cup the bulge in his boxers. You both groaned as your hand wrapped around him through the fabric. Him because he finally had some friction against his aching cock. You because he hadn't been exaggerating its size. He was definitely longer than average but it was the thickness that had your mouth watering. It was so deliciously thick, and even through the fabric of his boxers you could feel the vein protruding on the underside.

Abandoning your position at his collarbone, you lowered yourself down his body until you were face level with his crotch. He kicked off his boxers and you had your greedy hands on him in seconds. He hissed a breath through his teeth at finally having your hands on him and you gave him a few strokes, marvelling at the way that your fingers couldn't meet when you wrapped them around the widest part of the shaft. You looked up at him through your lashes as you stroked him and he slammed his head back against the pillow with a groan.

"You can't look at me like that Tink, please. I've wanted you for so long and I wanna make this good for you and I can't do that if you make me come in the first five seconds!"

You licked a path from the base, along the underside of his cock, right to the tip, relishing the choked moan he gave and the way his thigh muscles tensed. You suckled at the head, swirling your tongue around the tip and licking away the small bead of moisture that it produced.

"Tink, please" He sounded utterly wrecked, which was the only reason you stopped and crawled back up his body to lay at his side, looking at him with a bright smile.

He had chewed his lower lip to the point that it was swollen and red.

He rolled himself half on top of you and kissed you thoroughly, seeming more at ease without your hands drawing pleasure from him. circling your nipple again he toyed with it, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as his mouth invaded yours. He wanted you desperate and aching. It didn't take long.

When he had your back arching and your breaths panting, he slid the hand down your body to cup your pussy, moaning into your mouth when he found you still soaked from his 'punishment'. He slid the same two fingers back inside you and swallowed the moan you gave, crooking the two fingers until you wailed as the pleasure began building inside you again. He slid his fingers free and pushed himself up to kneel between your spread legs, cock jutting out swollen and flushed.

He asked you your color and when you gave him confirmation that it was green, he leaned over to grab a foil packet, ripping it open with his teeth and quickly rolling it down his length. You were both desperate, tired of waiting after months of building to this point. He settled between your legs and kissed you deeply, hiking your legs up and around his waist. He was breathing raggedly as you felt the blunt head of his cock press against your aching hole. He pushed the first few inches in, and you moaned at the stretch. He slid his hand between your bodies and stroked your clit in tight circles as he slowly pushed the rest of his length inside you. The gutteral groan he gave as he sank into the wet heat of your cunt was almost your undoing. He sounded so broken. By the time he was fully seated you were squirming and clenching around him, desperate for more. He sat up so that he was kneeling upright between your thighs. He gripped your hips, bruisingly hard, and withdrew, watching the way your breath caught at the friction of his cock rubbing against all the sensitive spots inside you. He pulled out until only the head remained, then slammed back into you, pulling you firmly into the motion by your hips. It was as if the last of his self-control had snapped.

He lifted your legs to his shoulders and wrapped his arm around your thighs, before setting a brutal pace, pounding into you, hard and deep as your eyes rolled back in your head. He was almost savage in the way he took you, unyielding as he dragged the swollen head of his cock against that spot inside you again and again. You were gripping the duvet and keening with each powerful drive of his hips. It was the look in his face that had you trembling though. His eyes were dark and dangerous, but he was looking at you as if there was no one else anywhere in the world. It was just the two of you, in that moment.

He slid a hand down to your pussy, his thumb zeroing in on your clit immediately and he began circling it, demanding another orgasm from you.

"Gotta come for me baby, please. I've been imagining what it'll feel like to have you grip my cock when you come, need it baby, need to feel you. Wanna feel your pussy squeeze me, Tink, such a good girl. So pretty like this, spread out beneath me, desperate for me."

You didn't know if he was even conscious of what he was saying, the words spewing from him almost desperately as his hips slammed against yours again and again.

You brought your fingers to your nipples, tweaking them desperately, sobbing as his cock pounded that spot inside you. You were at his mercy and it felt even better than you could have imagined. You could see the strong muscles moving in his thighs as he thrust into you again and again, sweat sticking strands of his long hair to his forehead.

The pleasure was building and you knew you couldn't last much longer.

"Eddie, love you, Eddie, gonna come, gonna make me come" you slurred, between gasps of pleasure.

He flung his head back, groaning even louder and tightening his grip on your legs. His thumb was rubbing your clit in a rhythm that had you breathless and you felt your orgasm approach.

"Eddie please! Want you to come with me baby, please, gonna come, Eddie, EDDIE!" The last groan of his name turned into a whine as your back bowed, causing him to slam even deeper into you. You gasped as your orgasm washed over you, feeling yourself clenching around the fullness of his cock inside you. Your body was shuddering and you were distantly aware of the noises you were making.

You heard the animalistic, desperate groan Eddie gave and he slammed himself into you once, twice, hips stuttering. You felt him swell even harder inside you as the last few contractions of your orgasm squeezed him. He continued pounding into you as he came, thrusts sloppy and rhythm abandoned. When the last of his pleasure had abated and you were trembling with the aftershocks of your own pleasure, he gently released your legs and slid himself from you.

Disposing of the condom, he dropped himself down next to you and gathered you into his arms, kissing you everywhere he could reach; your temple, your forehead, your nose, your mouth, the top of your head.

"Love you so much sweetheart, did so well, such a good girl for me" he was whispering, as his breathing calmed. You kissed him, thoroughly on the mouth and then slid out of the bed on shaky legs, smiling softly at his expression of dismay that you had left him.

You quickly popped to the bathroom before returning to the bed, a little shy. He was looking at you with total adoration and he gestured with his arms wide open for you to return to the cuddle. Face flushed, you climbed back into the bed, nestling yourself under his arm with your head on his chest. He was warm and soft and you were lulled into sleep in no time.

Chapter Text

You took a step back from the canvas, pursing your lips as you looked at the completed scene. It was almost perfect. You were thrilled with the murky, blood-red sky you had achieved in the background, as well as the overall composition of the canvas. There were a few places where you had had to patch up imperfections caused by errant brush hairs getting stuck to the paint, but that was the price you paid for creating with bargain bin, dollar store art supplies. The same supply issues had caused a few interesting color choices to work around the colors and mixing options you had available, but overall it was your best work to date.

You carefully relocated it to a corner of the house where it could dry in peace without the risk of Eddie seeing it if he turned up at your house unannounced, and then set to work washing your hands. Glancing at the clock, you cursed under your breath. You and Eddie had plans to meet and you were running late, having gotten lost in your painting! Quickly slipping on a pair of ripped, cuffed jeans and your formerly-white Converse, you kept the loose shirt that you wore as a painting smock half-buttoned over your white singlet. Grabbing your helmet, bag, and your superglued sunglasses, you ran out the door and set off for Eddie's trailer.

You were flushed and sweaty by the time you arrived, having pushed yourself harder than normal so as not to be late. The brisk, spring wind soon cooled you down as you locked up your bike, caught your breath, and knocked on the door to Eddie's trailer.

The door flew open and Eddie looked adorably rumpled. You had learned that while Eddie was always himself, there was a secret, softer side to him that only came out when he was truly comfortable around you. It was that comfort that let him answer the door to you looking soft and sleepy, seemingly barely awake despite the late morning sun beaming in. His gym shorts were slung low on his hips, exposing his soft, muscular thighs, and his usual Hellfire shirt had been swapped for a plain, white, cropped t-shirt that was stretched around the neck and had a small hole near the hem. The pale skin of his smooth, toned stomach was peeking between the hem of the shirt and the waistband of his shorts.

He didn't speak, but immediately wrapped his arms around you, drawing you into the trailer and closing the door behind you. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he kept his arms tightly around you for several long seconds, inhaling your scent and stroking your back with his long fingers. Seemingly satisfied at last, he pulled back, kissed the tip of your nose and said "hello" in a raspy voice.

Grabbing your hand in his, he tugged you down toward his bedroom, stopping off briefly to grab you each a glass of water in the small kitchen. He tugged you down onto the bed with him, scooping you in against his body as a little spoon. He made a small noise of contentment in the back of his throat and began playing with your hair.

He was playing Iron Maiden's 'The Killers' album quietly in the background. It took you three songs to figure out that he was playing the chords and strumming pattern for the music against your skin.

"Do you know how to play this? On guitar?" You asked him, stroking his forearm as he strummed it against you.

"Sure do" he said into your hair, before he began whispering chords and pressing the finger placements into your shoulder.

Struck by a moment of either inspiration or madness, you asked "will you teach me?"

He paused in his movements, and then seemed to be filled with a tangible energy almost immediately. He sat up and reached across the bed to grab his guitar from its place on the wall. Sitting upright with his back against the headboard, he helped you sit up and then scooted you back against him so that you were sitting between his legs. Carefully arranging the guitar in front of you, he introduced you to the other most important woman in his life.

"Tink, this is my sweetheart, sweetheart, this is Tink. Please be good to each other because I cannot have my two best girls fighting over me, ok?"

You giggled and settled back against the hard planes of his chest, cradling the guitar as gently as you could. Eddie helped you to arrange your hands and fingers and gave you a guided tour of his baby, explaining what all the various bells and whistles were for.

With his larger hand dwarfing yours, he helped you curl your fingers and place them against the correct strings on the fret, whispering the corresponding chord into your ear in a way that sent shivers down your spine. His other hand helped you strum the strings in rhythm. You were beaming as you heard the basic format of the song take shape. He made you practice the chorus repeatedly, helping your muscle memory form the transition between chords. It only took about 15 minutes for the song to sound much cleaner and for you to be able to repeat the chorus without his intervention or assistance. Unfortunately, 15 minutes seemed to be all the patience Eddie had.

As you continued fumbling your way through the chord transitions, he began kissing gently up your neck, lingering to suck and nibble at the pulse point at the corner of your jaw. Your fingers stuttered on the strings as a shiver rolled up your spine and he chuckled lowly into your ear.

Determined to continue with your newfound skill, you redoubled your focus on the instrument in your arms. Eddie seemed to take it as a personal challenge. His nails trailed up your thighs through your jeans and up your sides beneath your shirt until you were squirming even as you determinedly continued strumming the newly-familiar pattern.

Still sucking on your neck, he dragged his calloused fingertips down the soft skin of your ribcage, sliding them between you and the guitar to play with the waistband of your jeans. He was toying with you, slipping his fingers just inside the material until your heart was racing, then removing them to trace idle patterns on the fabric instead. All the while his maddening mouth was kissing and sucking the expanse of your throat, undoubtedly being able to feel your racing pulse in the process.

"What's your color baby?" He growled into your ear. Your body clenched in anticipation, excitement building in an almost Pavlovian response to those words. When you responded to tell him that you were green, your voice sounded huskier than you could ever recall hearing it.

When you felt him slip open the button of your jeans and slowly pull the zipper down, you whimpered, messing up your finger placement and having to quickly correct. He huffed a laugh across your throat and dropped his hand lower, slipping it inside your jeans and tracing his fingers over the fabric of your panties so gently that it almost tickled.

You gave up, removing your fingers from the strings and settling back against him to enjoy whatever he had in mind. He tsked at you gently and huskily whispered in your ear "if you stop, I stop. Hands back on the guitar, baby, show me what you've learned."

The whine that came out of your mouth was unbidden, and frankly surprising to you both. But you did as he asked, rearranging your hands and resuming your repetition of the chorus, despite the fact that the tape had run all the way to the end and your playing was now the dominant sound in the room.

He made a contended noise as you resumed playing, and slipped his hand inside the waistband of your panties, tracing his fingertips gently over the skin of your mound and then slowly dragging them up your lips. His middle finger slid up the length of your slit and he groaned into your throat when he felt the wetness that was pooled there.

The first pass of his fingertip over your clit had you so worked up that it took you a few seconds to realize that you had stopped playing. He pulled his finger away and waited for you to resume, which you did, hurriedly. He settled into a gentle place, circling your clit with one hand while the other caressed your breast as best he could with the bulk of the guitar in his way. He teased your nipple through the fabric of your shirt and singlet, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger in a rhythm that matched the maddening pleasure on your clit.

You were rolling your hips in time with his ministrations, and your playing became less and less finessed. Within minutes of his patient, steady rhythm, the guitar almost sounded drunk, as though the notes were slurring from it instead of being cleanly extracted. You were trying your best to focus on the chord progression but it was hard when his fingers were coaxing pleasure from you so sweetly, yet so determinedly. You were thankful that he only expected you to keep playing, as opposed to having to continue playing well!

You were panting and whimpering quietly as the pleasure built inside you, but he seemed determined to maintain his leisurely pace. Swapping his finger for his thumb, he continued toying with your clit, slowly and methodically circling it in a way that had you clenching in anticipation. He re-oriented his hand so that his fingers could slide down your dripping slit as his thumb took care of your clit. Sliding first one, then two fingers into your greedy hole, you bucked your hips and once again lost your ability to play, gripping the guitar for stability as the pleasure rocketed higher and higher. So of course, he withdrew his hand.

You groaned in frustration and quickly began strumming in a pattern that wasn't even close to what he had taught you, but he seemed satisfied. His fingers returned to slide inside you, his thumb resuming its path around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Better prepared this time, you maintained a poor imitation of the playing, and whined as his fingers began driving you higher and higher. He had crooked them in that familiar way, stroking them against that incredible spot in time with the attention to your clit and your nipple. You were so close!

What you were doing to the guitar could no longer be considered playing. Your fingers weren't moving on the fret board, and it was merely the full body shudders of pleasure causing your hand to move against the strings as he brought you closer and closer to orgasm. You were writhing against him, bucking your hips, rubbing your ass back against the hard length in his shorts, and moaning his name in warning.

He didn't alter his pace at all. He maintained the same leisurely rhythm that he had exhibited since the start, but he kissed a final trail up your neck and whispered in your ear "be a good girl and come for me."

You were lost. All thoughts of the guitar left your mind as your back bowed and the pleasure crested within you. Your eyes rolled back and the noises coming from your mouth really weren't within your control. Your thighs were quaking and trembling and you could feel your hole squeezing his fingers as they continued slowly massaging that spot inside you.

When the last aftershocks had been wrung from you, and you were collapsed back against his chest, catching your breath, you squeezed your thighs together to stop his ministrations. With a final kiss to your neck, he gently withdrew his hand from your jeans and moved to bring the fingers to his mouth. You turned enough that you could make eye contact with him as he did so, his tongue caressing his long digits in a way that had your insides fluttering despite the fact that you had literally just come down from an incredible orgasm.

Licking your lip at him deliberately, you watched as his gaze turned darker and hungrier, before leaning in to kiss him. You slid your tongue past his lips to dance with his, moaning softly at the taste of yourself in his mouth. He deepened the kiss, rocking his hips against you to grind his hard length into your ass.

The phone rang, and you both paused. He looked torn. He clearly didn't want to move from where he was, nestled against you, but didn't want to miss the call in case it was important.

With a huff, he slid from behind you and jogged to the phone. You giggled to yourself at the sight of the very obvious tent in his shorts. He looked positively indecent. As he answered the phone, he pulled his other arm up to stretch above his head, dragging his cropped t-shirt up and over his ribcage exposing even more of those tattoos. You weren't giggling anymore. He looked edible. You were staring at him hungrily, and you made eye contact with him, pulling yourself to your knees and slowly unbuttoning your shirt, pulling it off until just the singlet remained, and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

He was entranced, staring at you darkly, his cock bobbing in his shorts as you stripped down to just your bra and panties, making occasional non-committal noises down the phone.

Then he froze, and all of a sudden his focus was very much on the phone call. There was a moment where time seemed to stand still and you panicked that something awful had happened. And then he smiled. The smile turned to a mega-watt beam in seconds and he was gripping his hair in disbelief. He thanked the person, before ringing off, almost trembling.

"I'm graduating. I did it Tink, I passed!"

You whooped and ran to him, jumping to wrap your legs around his waist as he caught you in his arms and kissed you exultantly. He spun you around together, his boner still poking you in the ass. His smile was like sunshine, and though he'd never admit it, you could tell that his eyes were a little moist.

"I didn't think- I mean I just wasn't- I'm just really, really happy, Tink!" He said, voice trembling with joy.

"I'm so proud of you Eddie! You worked so fucking hard and you deserve this! You're gonna walk across that stage and I'll be cheering you on! So will my Mom, and all the Hellfire crew. This is amazing Eddie, honestly, congratulations!" You said, kissing every square inch of his face at random intervals as you spoke.

You could tell the exact moment that he remembered you were wearing only your underwear. His smile remained, but there was a primal edge to it, and his hands under your thighs seemed to grip you a little tighter.

Your faces were so close that you were breathing into each others mouths. He walked forward until your back was pressed against the wall of the trailer and kissed you thoroughly. His tongue swept against yours, and it felt as though he was trying to pour every ounce of his love for you into that kiss. It lasted several minutes and left you breathless, your head-spinning when he finally pulled back to look at you. You watched him take in your swollen lips and your blown-out pupils with satisfaction. He stepped back from the wall, you still wrapped around him like a koala, and walked to the bed, gently lowering you down to lay on the mattress.

He towered over you, pulling back to place gentle kisses on your shin, your knee, and along your inner thigh. He completely neglected your aching core, bypassing it to lay kisses across your tummy and up your ribcage. Ghosting over your nipples and kissing up your neck. When he finally reached your face, he was smiling softly, kissing you slowly, devouring your mouth until you were breathless. He settled himself between your thighs and ground against you. You were getting frustrated at the layers of clothing separating you. You tugged at his cropped t shirt until he chuckled and sat up, pulling it up and over his head, throwing it across the room. He shucked off his shorts so that only his boxers remained and covered your body with his once more.

He resumed the steady grind against you, and the hard length of him rubbing along the damp fabric of your panties was excruciatingly good. He seemed determined to be slow and gentle with you, and while you didn't want to rush him, you were painfully aroused. You stroked your fingernails softly along his back, enjoying the sharp inhale and choked off groan he made into your mouth. He shuddered and pressed himself against you more firmly in a way that had you mewling.

Pulling away from your mouth with a shaky exhale, his hand snaked up your body to cup and massage your breast as he began to whisper to you.

"So beautiful Tink. I don't know what I did to deserve you but whatever it was I'd do it forever if it meant I got to keep you. Love you so much, so perfect for me. My beautiful girl. Make me a better man, so good to me. So gorgeous."

You weren't even sure if he was conscious of what he was saying, the words just seemed to flow from him without thought as he played with your nipple and ground his hips into yours.

He rolled the two of you so that you were on top, and then slid his hands around to deftly undo the clasp of your bra, sliding the straps from your arms and emitting a choked off groan when your breasts popped free of the cups. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he captured a nipple in his mouth and you moaned in unison at the wet heat of his mouth massaging the sensitive tip. He scraped the edge of his teeth against it in a way that made you shudder with desire. He alternated the sucking, licking and biting again and again until you thought you would go mad with it, all the while his length rocked against your clit.

Taking matters into your own hands, you sat up, pulling your nipple free in the process, and began pushing your panties down your hips. He followed your lead and shucked his boxers, keening when you returned to straddle his lap and slid your wet slit along the throbbing length of his cock. You slid back and forth a few times as he bit his lip and gripped your hips, seemingly undecided whether he wanted you to stop or keep going.

Leaning over to his bedside table, you extracted a foil packet from his top drawer. He laughed openly at your looked of intense concentration as you tried to maneuver the latex over his length, your tongue poking out between your lips. He soon stopped laughing when you gave him a few cursory strokes when the condom was properly in place.

With your hand on his shoulder for balance, you gripped his shaft, preening internally at the noise he made, and positioned the leaking tip of his cock against your hole. Slowly, inch by delicious inch, you slid down the length of him until you were fully seated, panting slightly from the stretch and the way that he seemed to push against every erogenous zone inside of you all at once.

He pulled you down to kiss him, holding you against him as he began rocking his hips up into you, a steady, gentle rhythm that had him sliding mostly out of you each time, just to press against all of those wonderful spots on the way back in. Again and again he rocked into you, one hand on your hip to hold you steady against his thrust, and the other in your hair as he kissed you deeply and lovingly.

It was the most vulnerable you had ever felt during sex, as though he was telling you with his body all of the things he didn't feel he could articulate with words. The persistent, inexorable pressure of his head rubbing against that magical spot every time he slid in and out of you, combined with the rub of your clit against his pubic bone had your orgasm building quicker than you had expected.

Moaning against his mouth, you tried to tell him with your kiss how much you loved him, and how proud you were of him for having achieved a goal that he had presumed was out of his reach.

When you could feel your orgasm beginning to crest, you whispered "I love you" into his mouth on a shaky exhale before the waves of pleasure began washing over you. He was groaning into your neck, trying to resist the urge to thrust harder and faster to chase his own orgasm, lest it ruin yours. Your muscles were limp, totally wrung-out from the sweetness of the orgasm, and he gathered you close and rolled you once more so that he was poised above you.

He hiked your legs up around his waist, holding one leg up with a hand beneath your knee, and carried on fucking you, harder, and slightly faster. He was staring into your eyes, and you watched as the pleasure overtook him and he whimpered your name as his hips stuttered against yours.

He pressed his forehead against yours, still buried inside of you as your heart rates slowed down together. He kissed you lazily, all over your face, and stroked idle patterns into your skin everywhere he could touch while still keeping the majority off his weight off of you.

With a final kiss, he slid himself from you with a shiver of oversensitivity, and dispensed with the condom. Grabbing a washcloth and soaking it in warm water, he returned to you in the bed and carefully cleaned you up, before lobbing it across the room and settling back into the bed. He pulled you to his chest and you went without a fight, settling in against him as he ran his fingers up and down the length of your back, dropping occasional kisses onto your forehead or the top of your hair.

"Do you ever wish you could say something but you just don't have the words to make it make sense outside of your own head?" He asked, out of the blue, with an edge of frustration.

"Kinda" you replied, "but if I can't say it I usually just paint it, so it isn't trapped inside of me, whatever it is. But, if you want to say something, just explain it as best you can and we'll figure it out together. We're a team, you know?"

He sat in contemplative silence for another minute or two, percolating on the thoughts in his head as he traced patterns along your naked back.

"You make my brain quiet, but in a good way." He eventually said, obviously not feeling as though the words accurately captured his feelings about the subject. "Like, my brain is always so LOUD, you know? Music, and D&D and the future, and guitar tabs, and that thing I saw in a comic book when I was 6, and that time I had a bad dream about a flamingo. There's just always so much going on up there, it's really...loud. And then when I'm with you, it's like someone turned the volume down, or stopped playing 5 different tv channels at once. It's nice. Peaceful. That probably sounds stupid."

You poked him in the ribs and he jolted and yelped.

"That wasn't stupid, it was perfect, and you're ruining the moment by calling it stupid! I love you, and that was one of the loveliest things anyone has ever said to me." You said, kissing his chest and then beaming at him.

He smiled, relieved and pushed your hair back behind your ear.

"I love you, so much." He said, eyeing you with wonder.

"I love you too" you smiled, leaning in for a chaste kiss.

"Wanna go bowling?" he asked, grinning at you toothily. You laughed at the topic change and nodded at him, kissing him on the nose as you stood to get dressed.

It was only later as you laid in bed, drifting off to sleep with a smile on your face at the thought of Eddie cramming all of that hair under a grad cap, that reality crashed into your brain. What would he be doing with himself now that he was graduating? There was nothing holding him in Hawkins, and given that the town had so often treated him as a Pariah, you couldn't imagine he would be thrilled to stick around. But realistically you would need to take at least a year and work full time to be able to afford to go to art school in Indianapolis, and that money would be much easier to save in Hawkins, living with your Mom. What if he was going to leave you behind? You'd never discussed his plans for the future!

Sleep didn't come easily that night, and you resolved to talk to him about it, even though the possibility of having your fears confirmed terrified you. It would be ok, you could make it work, whatever his plans were....right?

Chapter Text

The morning of your graduation dawned with a watery sunrise peeking through the gap in your curtains. Your alarm hadn't yet sounded off, and so you settled back down in to the warm comfort of your covers and let your brain slowly rouse itself to full consciousness. You knew that everything for the day was organized and ready to go, and while you weren't anxious about the day itself, you were filled with a bittersweet nostalgia that bordered on grief.

Coming to Hawkins High had changed your life in more ways than you could possibly imagine. And you were ready to graduate, you really were. You had made your peace with having to take a year off to work before going to college, you were ready to be out of the confines of a classroom, and you were ready to be rid of the high-school dramas and politics. But so many of your favorite memories had happened within those walls with your friends. You were grieving for the fact that it would never again be like it was. You knew that the friendships would endure, but never again would you all be consistently under one roof, sharing classes and notes, eating at the cafeteria, and playing Hellfire in the drafty backroom. It was sad, to say goodbye to that, knowing that it was a time in your life that you would never be able to reclaim.

The bleating of your alarm shook you from your melancholy thoughts and you shot a hand out to quickly turn it off. Stretching your arms above your head, you mentally ran through the plan for the day. Your Mom had secured the day off of work, not having to go in for her shift until late afternoon when you would be celebrating with your friends. The two of you had planned a small breakfast celebration, and you were determined to not let her dwell on the fact that you wouldn't be going straight to college like you had once planned. Then you would get ready, having already laid out a dress and your best shoes to wear under your gown. Then your Mom would drive you to school with your painting to give to Eddie after the ceremony. You would walk across the stage, smile, shake hands, take photos, throw your cap, all that jazz. And then you would kiss your Mom goodbye, get changed and party! You intended to give the painting to Eddie after the ceremony, and then ask him about his plans for the future, knowing that you would have the party afterwards to either celebrate or cheer you up depending on his response.

You heard your Mom's footsteps padding down the hallway toward the kitchen and finally rolled out of bed, grabbing your dressing gown before heading to meet her in the kitchen. She scooped you up into a big cuddle and kissed your temple, the two of you embracing for almost a full minute before she stepped away to grab the pancake batter from the fridge. Your Mom cooked up the pancakes in batches while you washed and diced the fruit and whipped some cream, setting both on the table with the butter and the maple syrup while the last few pancakes cooked.

Settling down at the table, you and your Mom each forked a few pancakes onto your plate from the stack in the center, loading them up with your preferred toppings and digging in. You had your cheeks stuffed to bursting with pancake when your Mom pulled a small box from under the table and placed it in front of you, congratulating you and wishing you a happy graduation in the process.

Smiling widely at her, and laughing as she recoiled at your syrupy face, you carefully opened the package to reveal a beautiful leather-bound scrapbook. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you opened it to see that your Mom had painstakingly collected, preserved, and then scrapbooked your school career all the way from kindergarten. She had included certificates, awards, artworks, times that you were mentioned in school bulletins or newspapers. She had interspersed them with photographs of you through each year, some school based, some not. You let out a watery chuckle at the sight of your terrible 9th grade Halloween costume that you had been so proud of. Yes despite the extensive coverage of your life, your Mom had managed not to include a single picture with your former 'friends' from Indianapolis. God you loved this woman.

Wiping your eyes on the sleeves of your dressing gown, you carried on leafing through it, finding yourself eventually looking at your year in Hawkins High. There were so many pictures of you with friends; the perks of Jonathan being an avid photographer! There was one from your birthday that you didn't even realize he had taken; you and Eddie just staring into each others' eyes.

Closing the book carefully, you sniffed back the tears that were now openly falling and scooted around the table to give your Mom a huge cuddle.

"I'm sorry it isn't much-" she started, but you were shaking your head so vehemently that she stopped.

You hugged a while longer before giving her a kiss on the forehead and a big smile, and then clearing the table. The two of you worked side by side in silence while you got your emotions under control. You appreciated your Mom so much. She was so strong, and compassionate, and endlessly selfless. You really hoped to be like her some day.

When the kitchen was clean, you collected your graduation outfit from your room and headed for the shower.

Looking at yourself in the mirror you gave your reflection a small smile. You were pleased with what you had managed to achieve with your limited cosmetics, and you hoped that your make-up would last the day without smudging or smearing.

You slipped your gown on over the top of your dress and slid your feet into your good shoes, trying to ignore the way that they pinched your little toe in the left shoe. Grabbing your cap and slipping a lip gloss, some mints, and your house key into a small, weathered clutch, you walked out to meet your Mom in the lounge. She took photographs of you, having you pose in ridiculous ways until you were cackling loudly and probably ruining all the photos by looking like a velociraptor mid-shriek.

Grabbing the completed, dried painting, you stowed it away safely in the backseat and buckled yourself into the front. Your Mom had offered to give Eddie a ride, but he had politely declined so that he would have his van to drive the both of you if needed when your Mom went off to work.

Parking up at the school, you kissed your Mom goodbye as she went to the audience seats and you went to find your group and begin lining up.

As you were craning your neck to look, Eddie's long arms slid around your waist and he kissed you on the temple. You swung around to face him, beaming at the sight of him in his cap and gown. He dropped into a neat curtsy, tugging the sides of the gown out like a skirt as he bobbed, and your laugh was echoed by the rest of your group coming to join you. The younger group only stopped by to say hello and give you all (but mostly Eddie) a big congratulations for graduating before being herded into the auditorium by mother-hen-Harrington to take their seats.

Your school organized their graduations one class at a time based on homeroom classes, then alphabetically within those classes. Thankfully, none of you were in each other's homeroom which would mean you would all be in the crowd cheering for one another as you crossed the stage.

Eddie's class was up last and as your class filed out the back to line up ready to cross the stage, you could see him shifting nervously in his seat. You smiled at Nancy and Robin who were whispering in their seats, having just crossed the stage in the previous groups.

Lining up and triple checking that your dress wasn't tucked into your underwear and that your cap's tassel was straight, you stood and took calming breaths. There were only three people in front of you. Then two. And then one. And then your name was called and you climbed the steps and walked across the stage, listening to the loud hooting and hollering coming from your Mom, your friends and your boyfriend across the room. Smiling widely, you shook the principal's hand and accepted the diploma, turning briefly toward the front for your Mom to be able to get a good picture, before finishing your journey across the stage and descending to take your seat.

You breathed a sigh of relief. You had done it! In the corner of your eye you saw Eddie's class standing to file out in preparation of being called. Eddie looked visibly uncomfortable now, the nerves shining through clearly. He had confessed to you a few days earlier when the phone call came that he was worried they had made a mistake and that they would call his name just to take it all back in front of everyone.

You weren't really paying attention to anything other than where in the alphabet they were up to. When you knew that Eddie was next, you were on the edge of your seat. As soon as his name was called, you and your friends began cheering and clapping as loudly as you could, giving a fright to the girl seated next to you. You gave the loudest wolf whistle that you could manage and were surprised to hear an even louder one from the back; your Mom!

You could see how pink Eddie's cheeks had gone as he crossed the stage, shaking hands, receiving his diploma and then grinning sheepishly out into the crowd for a moment before crossing and coming to sit in the crowd. You made eye contact with him as he began to move to his seat and gave him a big thumbs up, mouthing 'I love you' and watching his blush deepened in response as he mouthed it back and took his seat.

Emerging from the auditorium into the blinding sunshine was one of the most freeing moments of your existence. Your Mom was walking toward you with a big grin on her face and swept you up into a big cuddle. You were surprised when Eddie arrived and she gave him a big hug too. It made you smile to see Eddie's face turn tender at the motherly gesture.

You spent the next half hour taking group photos with all of your friends in various poses ranging from sweet to goofy and everything in between. You managed the world's shakiest human pyramid for the few seconds it took to take a picture before you all collapsed into a heap and called it quits on the photoshoot.

You pulled Eddie away with you toward your Mom's car, your Mom trailing behind, knowing you'd like some privacy to hand over your painting.

You stood Eddie next to the car and told him to close his eyes. He raised an eyebrow at you before complying. A little nervous, you opened the car door and pulled the painting out from its spot on the backseat.

"Keep your eyes closed, because I have a little speech and if there's one thing I learned in English this year it's that I find public speaking much easier to do when the audience aren't looking at me. Ok, here goes. You told me once that you saw me, how lonely I was, and you thought maybe D&D could save me the way that it saved you. And you were right in a way, but also wrong. Because D&D is wonderful, and fun, and challenging and apparently kinda my artistic muse, but it was you that saved me. You saw me and you pulled me into your world, and you loved me, and learned me. You brought me to life and I will never be able to thank you for that for as long as I live."

You could see him squirming, clearly struggling not to respond either physically or verbally, wanting to give you the opportunity to say what you wanted to say.

"Watching you grow this year has been one of the highlights of my life, and I am so fucking proud of you for graduating. You did it! And you deserved it, you worked so hard! So I wanted to say a combined thank you and congratulations by combining two things that you love."

He had evidently lost the battle with his patience "Is it you in a bikini playing my guitar?" he asked, with a goofy smile.

"Not quite. Open your eyes" you said, holding the canvas up.

You watched him open his eyes and saw him take in your art, the detail, the colors, and enjoyed the moment of recognition dawning on his face when he realized that it was the finale of your Vecna D&D campaign.

"Tink...Baby, this is incredible!" he said. reaching out as if to trail his fingers across the paint, but thinking better of it.

He carefully plucked the canvas from your hands and laid it back in the seat of your Mom's car, before placing his hands on either side of your face and kissing you so sweetly and so tenderly that tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. He broke away from your lips and cradled your head against his chest, his unsteady heart beat thumping familiarly against your cheek.

His hand stroked along your hair as you embraced and you took a deep breath inhaling his scent.

"Hey, Eddie what do you have planned for next year? We haven't really talked about it and I wasn't sure whether you'd hit the road and never look back or if you were staying or...anything, I guess." You said into his chest, hating the way you could hear the quiver in your voice. The hand stroking your hair stuttered before he responded.

"You're staying in town for the year, right?" He asked.

You nodded against him.

"Well, I'll be wherever you are, for as long as you'll have me," he whispered with a kiss to the top of your head.

"But what will you do?" You asked, trying not to let the relief be too obvious in your voice.

"Well, I actually have a surprise for you, and it involves you too, but I can't tell you just yet, okay? Later though, I promise."

You reluctantly let the topic go and pulled away from the hug as your Mom approached.

She opened the door to the car and grabbed a small bag that you hadn't noticed from the footwell of the passenger seat. She turned with a small smile and handed it to Eddie.

"I'm sorry it isn't much, but congratulations Eddie" she said, seeming embarrassed at the small gift, oblivious to the look of wonder and awe that Eddie and you were both shooting her.

Eddie opened the bag with shaky hands and pulled out a framed copy of the photograph from your birthday that your Mom had also put in your scrapbook. It was a lovely shot. Eddie smiled softly at the photograph, stroking a thumb along the edge of the frame before beaming at your Mom and sweeping her into a tight hug, whispering a gruff thank you into her ear.

With that, your Mom gave you a big cuddle and a kiss and prepared to go and get changed ready for work. You grabbed your bag with a change of clothes from the backseat, setting your graduation gown and cap into the backseat with Eddie's painting. You and your Mom would keep it safe until after the grad party in case it got damaged in Eddie's van.

You waved goodbye to your Mom and then wandered over to Eddie's van where Nancy, Jonathan and Robin were already waiting. Steve was going to walk into town with the younger kids, all of you meeting for a celebratory dinner before the younger crowd had to depart, missing out on your grade-wide graduation party.

The house was set up, but there would be a few hours before anyone arrived; all too busy having dinners with family, but your de facto family was celebrating together. You all piled into several booths in the diner in town, ordering delicious, grease-laden burgers and chips that were always perfectly salted. You were tossing up on a strawberry milkshake but wasn't sure you would be able to finish it.

"I'll split it with you?" Eddie asked, his hand on your thigh beneath the table. You beamed in response and added the milkshake to your order.

The next twenty minutes waiting for your food was what you imagined heaven would feel like. Snuggled next to Eddie with his hand on your thigh, several different animated conversations happening around you between some of your favorite people in the world. No expectation for you to be anything other than yourself. Good food on the way. It felt like your life was paused in a beautiful moment. Like when you're on the swings getting ready to jump off, and you reach the highest point in the arc and leap. There's a beautiful, breathless moment where everything is suspended in mid-air, before gravity becomes too much and pulls you back down to Earth. A moment of peace so pure that it feels like flying.

The peace of the moment was interrupted by the arrival of the food, and your stomach gave a timely rumble as your burger, fries and milkshake were set down before you. Conscious of not wanting ruin one of the few remaining pieces of 'nice' clothing that you owned, you tucked an unfurled napkin into the neckline of your dress like a makeshift bib. Eddie snorted when he saw you, and pulled you in with a soft smile to kiss you on the temple as you took your first sip of the milkshake and groaned in pleasure.

You soon lost yourself in the conversations around you as you ate, contributing at random with anecdotes or rebuttals and one absolutely brutal joke about Steve's gravity-defying hair that had him staring at you with a look that walked a tightrope line between offended and totally impressed.

The street was dark by the time you were done, and you all added your contribution to the bill and the tip before wandering back out to the street. The younger kids were heading off; too young for the party that was soon be kicking off, and you hugged them one by one, giving Dustin a sympathy Chewbacca growl as he pouted and unlocked his bike. They biked off into the distance as the rest of you wandered back to your cars. Jonathan, Nance, Steve and Robin drove together in Nancy's car, and you followed Eddie to his van. He opened your door for you, reaching around you to buckle you in as usual, and then you were on your way.

Several hours later, delightfully tipsy, and swaying arm in arm with Robin to 'Heart of Glass' as it thumped through the speakers, you tilted your head back and laughed at the sensation of the room moving with you. You blew a kiss to Eddie across the room who was watching you with a sultry smile as he swigged a beer and chatted to Gareth. He waggled his fingers at you and you poked your tongue out at him in response.

Returning to your dance, you laughed at Jonathan's surprisingly uninhibited dancing to the song. You'd never thought of Jonathan as being particularly flexible, but clearly you needed to revisit that thought!

Ducking away from your friends to grab a refill of your drink you smiled politely at some familiar faces from your classes as you passed. It was strange to think that you'd shared an entire year of your life with these people and yet they had existed so spectacularly in the background that you couldn't confidently recall their names. The thought tickled you and you giggled to yourself as you filled your red solo cup and took a big gulp. You timed your swallow wrong, and you began coughing and spluttering, desperately trying to inhale some air.

The whack on your back took you by surprise, and you stumbled forward, your hip crashing into the edge of the table sparking pain down your leg. Still coughing, you turned to see where the hit had come from to see Patrick sneering at you with his hand raised ready to strike you again.

Just as he moved the arm to swing down for another hit, Eddie's hand wrapped around his forearm and the two locked eyes. Eddie looked downright murderous.

"Get your hands off my girl, McKinney. I won't be asking twice." Eddie's voice was barely above a growl and it was the first time since you'd met him that you could understand why some of the kids at school were afraid of him.

"She was choking. I was doing her a favor. Course, I'm sure I could give her something else to choke on, since it's obviously an unfamiliar sensation for her." Patrick retorted, and your skin crawled as the insinuation unfurled in your brain.

"Lay a hand on her again, and you will find out just how unhinged I can really be, that is a fucking promise."

The two were inches from each other's faces, and the alcohol was only emboldening them. Patrick was practically foaming at the mouth.

You stepped between them and pushed them apart with shaky hands.

"Come on Eds, he's not worth it," you muttered "besides, you remember what happened last time? I don't wanna clean that up."

You watched the fury cross Patrick's face as he realized you were talking about the time he had pissed himself in fright at Eddie's satanic revenge. Patrick looked violently angry, his face ruddy, and he was clenching his jaw so hard you were surprised he hadn't cracked a tooth. He clearly hadn't banked on Eddie sharing that detail with you. The thought idly passed through your mind that he wouldn't be the type of person to let that comment lie. Fear prickled gently at the base of your neck.

Eddie laughed, a little more wild than normal, which you assumed was probably purposeful, and slid an arm around your waist. He pulled you in behind him and walked the two of you backward into the main body of the party, leaving Patrick behind, vibrating with rage.

"I shouldn't have said that," you said to Eddie with a frown as the two of you stood on the edge of the dancefloor, "it'll only antagonize him."

Eddie scooped you in against his chest and kissed the top of your head. You felt reassured by his presence, but when you looked up, Patrick was still staring at you from the edge of the room, murderous expression firmly in place.

Your stomach swirled uneasily. You had a feeling it wasn't over.

By midnight your fears were long forgotten as you danced and sang and laughed with your friends. It was such a relief to be able to let your hair down and just be a teenager for a while. You never thought it could feel so good to act your age!

You motioned to Eddie to ask if he wanted a refill of his drink, pouting at him when he shook his head with a slow, crooked smile. You danced your way back to the drink station, refilling your cup with a shake of your hips.

As you walked away, a guy bumped into you that you thought you might have recognized. Artie? Andy? Something? Maybe? He'd been at the table with Chrissy and co. when they'd approached you in the cafeteria but you couldn't remember his name. He looked at you apologetically, grabbing your cup as it sloshed liquid over your hand, and handing you a napkin to help you dry your hands with a sheepish smile. You thanked him politely, drying the sticky residue from your hands as best you could before taking back your drink and sashaying back toward your friends.

Dancing exultantly with your friends, you laughed as Eddie treated your small group to an impromptu air guitar solo (which you had a sneaking suspicion was probably all correct in terms of his finger movements). He beckoned you to join him and you shook your head several times before giving in. You knocked back most of your drink in one go for courage and joined Eddie in the middle of the circle, giving your best Ozzy Osbourne impression and flushing at the cheers and hollers of your friends. It was hard to care when Eddie was looking at you as if you were sunshine in human form.

As the solo ended, you took a deep bow, blinking slowly as you returned to vertical and realized how slow the room was moving to right itself. That last drink had clearly packed quite the punch. You were tossing up going to get some water when the guy who had bumped you in the drinks queue approached Eddie, flashing some cash in a clear indication that he was looking to score. Eddie nodded his head in the direction of the door, taking the guy away from prying eyes to complete the deal.

Robin called your name, and you swung around to look at her, once again overcome by the room moving slow as molasses. It was so strange, you felt largely disconnected from your body, suddenly aware that you were a brain piloting a body like a tiny alien in giant robot suit. You laughed at the thought and a few seconds later processed the feeling of your mouth opening and the sound coming out. How odd.

Robin was looking at you with a concerned smile. You waved her off and wobbled toward the water, thinking maybe hydration would have you feeling more at home in your body.

You gulped deeply from your cup of cold water, enjoying the way it felt in your dry mouth. Your head really was starting to spin, and your co-ordination seemed to have left the party. Putting the cup down with shaky hands, you misjudged the distance and the cup fell, leaking a puddle of water onto the floor. You squinted at the puddle. How strange.

You were disrupted from your floaty reverie by the arrival of someone in the room. It was a guy that you recognized by face but not by name. He was part of the basketball team and very much part of the 'in' crowd. Oh, he was speaking to you. You focused hard on making the words make sense to your brain.

What did he mean Eddie needed you? You had just seen Eddie and he had seemed totally fine. You were trying to make your mouth formulate a reply but it wasn't working. Instead you were sort of gaping at him like a fish. He was herding you up the stairs, but that didn't make any sense; Eddie had taken the guy outside. Hadn't he? Your legs weren't doing super well at navigating the stairs, and the guy's hand on your arm was so tight that he was half dragging you. You could feel that something wasn't right, but trying to process the thought and see it through to its conclusion was like trying to sprint through molasses, or that awful feeling when you're being chased in a dream but you can't move any faster than slow-motion.

At the top of the stairs, you were pushed into a room and the door slammed closed behind you. Your legs hadn't been prepared for the rapid movement and you tripped upon entry into the room and ended up on your hands and knees in the middle of the room, hot pain belatedly filtering through your brain as you realized that you must have scraped your hands and knees on the way down.

It wasn't until Patrick spoke that you understood how much danger you were in. You had been right to think that he wouldn't let your comment from earlier pass undefended. You stopped putting effort into understanding what he was saying, and put it all into coordinating your limbs to escape. You were swiftly losing that battle, your arms and legs rapidly losing any strength until you were crawling desperately toward the closed door. You were brought up short by a hand in your hair swiftly yanking back your head. There was a piercing shriek that rang out through the room and you dazedly realized it had come from you. You focused all of your dwindling energy on recreating that sound as loud and as often as you could. There was a hand over your mouth, but still you screamed, sinking your teeth into the flesh of his palm and clenching your jaws for all you were worth. The pained shout from behind you alerted you to your success.

You weren't wholly sure of what happened next, only that the door flung open with such violence that you thought it may have snapped one of its hinges. You could only imagine what you looked like, mostly collapsed on the floor with blood on your face, screaming your heart out.

Eddie bursting through the door was the closest thing to art in motion that you had ever seen. He was like an avenging angel: tall, imposing, and oozing power and the promise of violence from every pore of his being. His eyes locked with yours and the strangest feeling passed through you. You knew that with Eddie by your side you would be safe, and so the panic of the situation properly set in and you could feel your body shaking even though you couldn't control it.

His gaze had turned utterly cold, his beauty almost ethereal as he strode into the room and out of your sight. Your brain could piece together what happened next by the sounds of pain coming from Patrick's corner of the room, but you weren't really aware of anything else until strong, gentle arms were rolling you onto your back and picking you up, leaving you cradled against Eddie's chest. You had little to no control left over your muscles, so you tried to let your gratitude and your love and your fear shine through your eyes. He kissed your forehead in understanding and walked you out into the hallway where you were dimly surprised to see Robin, Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan anxiously crowded.

Steve's eyes darkened at the sight of you.

"He's all yours." Eddie growled.

Steve, looking older than you had ever seen him, turned to the others.

"Jonathan, call Hopper. Nance, you still got those guns at home?" Satisfied with her responding nod, he rearranged his rings to form makeshift knuckle-dusters and entered the room with the easy grace of a predator that knew it had its prey cornered. Robin followed Eddie and you down the corridor and out the back entrance.

Eddie was asking her to talk to your Mom and let her know what had happened, and told her that he was taking you to his trailer, reciting the address in case she needed to give it to Hopper or your Mom.

Eddie buckled you into his van as best he could and then drove slowly and carefully back to his trailer, cradling you against him until you were both inside and safe.

He carried you to the small bathroom and held your face in his hands as he spoke to you.

"Tink, baby, we need to try to get whatever that fucker gave you out of your system, ok? It'll help you feel better. Would you like me to help?" His tone was gentle but authoritative, brooking no room for argument. You nodded as best you could and he helped you to adjust until you were leaning over the toilet, Eddie taking the bulk of your weight.

He slipped two of his fingers into your mouth and down your throat, whispering encouragement into your ear as you brought up the contents of your stomach into the bowl of the toilet until there was nothing left and you were dry heaving. Seemingly satisfied, Eddie reclined you into the crook of his arm and wiped your mouth with toilet paper, grabbing a damp washcloth from the sink to press against your clammy forehead.

He picked you back up and took you to his bed, returning a few seconds later with a glass of water that he propped you up and helped you sip at.

You could feel your body coming back to you incrementally, and you tried not to let the panic of being so out of control overwhelm you.

Eddie settled himself in behind you, stroking your hair and rocking you gently. You experimented with clenching your hands into fists and then releasing them again, enjoying the feeling of control returning slowly to your body.

For the next half hour, the two of you held each other and rocked silently as your body came back to you. It was when you mostly had control of yourself that you started to cry. The sobs wracked your body, great heaving sobs that you thought would turn you inside out. Eddie held you close and rode out the storm with you, letting you exorcise the pain and fear of the evening in his arms.

When the wave had passed and you were feeling more yourself than you had in over an hour, he began to speak to you, lips pressed into your hair, still rocking you gently.

"You wanna have that talk about the future now sweetheart?" He asked, kissing your forehead when you nodded. "Well, I knew that I wanted to be wherever you're gonna be, so that made my choices a lot easier. But I've done something, and I hope you like it, but if you don't then you absolutely don't have to. I don't want you to feel pressured, like, it was just an idea, but I thought that if someone else could appreciate them as much as I do then it might be a good idea? And I mean I don't even know what you want to study at college so I may be way off but I tried right? And I figure that's gotta-"

"Eddie!"

He was rambling out of sheer nervousness, obviously not knowing how you were going to take what he had to say, which had your curiosity blooming enough that you interrupted his thought train to speak for the first time in a good long while.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly, "so, I got a job writing story arcs for Dungeons and Dragons next year. Which is pretty cool, I guess. I wrote them way back at the start of the year just for shits. I wasn't expecting a reply, but they liked what I sent them and they asked for more, and now I'm signed up as like a freelancer for them. Which is cool because a) I can do it from wherever the hell I want, and b) I can still play with my band while I do it. So yeah, that's me for next year. But, um, that's not all. You know how you've been drawing for Hellfire all year? I picked some of my favorites and sent them in as like a portfolio with my second set of storylines that I sent them, and they want to offer you a job. You can do it from wherever you want, same as me, but basically you would just be doing for them exactly what you've been doing for me at Hellfire. They'll send you descriptions and ideas and you create artworks out of them and mail them in for them to use in promotional material and stuff. I figured it would be good experience if you did decide to go down the art path when you go to college. I don't know, it's probably stupid, but it was just an idea. I wasn't even expecting them to respond, but they're obviously blown away by your talent, just like me."

You clumsily pulled yourself upright and shakily turned to him, eyes welling with happy tears and a blinding grin on your face. You launched yourself at him, kissing his chin and then readjusting to get his mouth. You thanked him profusely, kissing him again and again until you were interrupted by a knock at the door.

You were immediately on alert, spine stiffening and heart racing. Eddie kissed your temple to soothe you, and then extricated himself from behind you and went to answer the door. There was a tall man in a Sherriff's uniform who introduced himself to you as Jim Hopper.

He struck you as a gruff papa bear type with a soft underbelly that you imagined he didn't show to many people. He did his best to put you at ease and make you feel safe while he asked you questions about what had happened with Patrick. You recounted everything, not just from that day, but from the first time you'd met and his unwavering interest in you.

Hopper nodded and took notes on his pad, and when all was said and done, he walked you through the process of pressing charges, gave you a time to come to the station the next day to formally make your statement. He clutched your shoulder in his big paw on his way past, giving you a look that spoke volumes about how sorry he was that this had happened to you. You smiled at him gratefully as he left.

Hopper had explained that he was going to see your Mom and that he would explain that you were safe and where to find you. You were thankful for the reprieve of having to further relive the experience that night, knowing full well that the inquisition with your Mom would be extensive the next day when you next saw each other.

Exhausted by the events of the day, you drifted off to sleep that night safe in Eddie's arms, whispering back and forth about your future together.

The next few days were a blur of highs and lows and the grim reality that inevitably followed such a traumatic event. You were correct that your Mom wanted to know every excruciating detail, but you were thankful that she sat quietly while you gave your statement and saved her questions for later when you were alone.

Patrick was charged with a raft of charges and the guy who had led you upstairs, and the guy who had lured Eddie outside had both been charged as accessories to the offending. You didn't know exactly what Hopper had said to them all behind closed doors of the interrogation room, or if it was a belated display of conscience, but they all pleaded no contest at their first appearance later that week.

You were shocked when they were led into the Courtroom and all three were black and blue with bruising and welts, moving gingerly in a way that suggested that the injuries extended far below the neck. The Judge remanded all three in custody pending sentence and called for all sorts of reports to be available at the sentencing hearing before moving on to the next case.

Standing outside the courthouse and breathing deeply for the first time in nearly a week, you had a small double take when you saw all of your friends gathered on the sidewalk outside of the court. They looked equal parts sad, and relieved, and furious. You sprinted toward them and gathered all of them into a tight hug thanking them individually and collectively for saving you. You gave Steve a tight hug and whispered to him that you had never seen him look so manly, and when Nancy's turn came for a hug you whispered that the two of you would be having a conversation about those guns she supposedly owned later. Robin looked the saddest of them all, almost on the brink of tears as you scooped her into a hug.

"I'm sorry Tink, I knew something was up but I should have been faster. I saw that guy taking you upstairs and I should have followed you up myself but I didn't, I went to find Eddie but I should have done better and I'm so sorry, it's my fault and I just-"

You clapped a hand over her mouth and looked her in the eyes.

"You saved me, Robin, you all did. I don't even want to think about what would have happened without you there, and who knows, it might have been even worse if we didn't have all the cavalry. You did the right thing, and I am so, so thankful, Robin." You said, firmly, willing her to believe you. She wrapped her arms around you once more and the two of you hugged for a long time until the group collectively decided that enough was enough and that you would have to go for ice cream as a group and make the most of the fine summer day.

You and Eddie walked at the back of the group, holding hands and slowly consuming your ice cream cone as you walked en masse to the lake. You all spent the day by the water, swimming, dancing, singing, and talking through plans for the summer and then the following year. Nancy and Jonathan would be going out of Hawkins for college but both had family in Hawkins so would be back regularly. Robin wasn't leaving, having signed up to the local Community College to take some research papers. Steve didn't have a firm plan but was content for the most part to stay in Hawkins until he figured it out. The younger kids were still in school and so weren't going anywhere.

The reactions when you told the group about yours and Eddie's Dungeons and Dragons jobs were so loud you would be surprised if they weren't heard in Indianapolis. You both flushed and waved away their praise with thanks.

You told them all that you and Eddie had decided to stay in Hawkins while you worked, but that Eddie's band would be doing some small tours over the summer that you would be joining them on the road for.

Everyone was so excited for the both of you, and you could sense a definite relief from the younger kids that both Eddie and Steve had no plans to permanently leave Hawkins.

Eddie leant against a tree as he sat on the warm ground, and you lay on a towel next to him, your head resting on his thigh. He was tracing idle patterns into your shoulder as you lay and watched the chaos of your friends with a fond smile.

You had mended your relationship with your Dad, you and your Mum were doing well, you had a great job lined up that made the most of your art skills, you had friends who appreciated and accepted you for who you were, and you had Eddie. Wonderful Eddie who saw you and loved you and would follow you to the ends of the earth. Life was good.

The unravelling of your life that led to your arrival in Hawkins may have stemmed from a universal flaw in the human condition. But it was the very best parts of the human condition that had put you back together again, healing you, and helping you grow. It was the selflessness, the kindness, the compassion, the empathy, the good-humor, and above all else, the love of these people that had given you a new lease on life. These maniacs playing sword fights with sticks by the edge of the lake while comparing notes on imaginary weapons were your saviors. They were the very best people you could imagine. You weren't entirely sure that you deserved them, any of them, but you were prepared to spend the rest of your life trying to be worthy of the gift they had given you. The gift of a life lived in love.

Chapter Text

Two years later

The late-morning sun shifted from behind a cloud and the room seemed to glow for a moment or two before it settled. The light better illuminated Eddie's slack, child-like features as he slept; one arm slung over your hips and the other buried beneath his pillow. His hair was a mess, somehow managing to be both flattened in places and still wild and indomitably voluminous in others.

You shifted from where your back was resting against the headboard of your bed, trying not to wake him as you wiggled circulation back into your toes. Satisfied, you leaned back and resumed adding the finishing touches to your drawing of a sleeping Eddie, signing it with a small flourish and putting it to one side when you were finished.

You cracked your knuckles and then idly traced Eddie's exposed tattoos lightly with your fingertip, being careful not to smudge the sheets with your charcoal-laden hands. Some of them were as familiar to you as your childhood home, but others were new. The small Tinkerbell flying across Eddie's shoulder-blade had caused the first proper fight for the two of you, just a year prior. Eddie had been so excited to show you the new art, and hadn't understood why you were so convinced that he had jinxed the two of you. It had taken some deep conversations, but the two of you had reached a place where you understood where the other was coming from. It was now one of your favorites of his rapidly expanding collection.

He scrunched his nose and nestled closer to you and you resisted the urge to laugh. It always amazed you how quickly the stress of the day could melt away from him the moment his head hit the pillow. You had seen him pacing the room, fraught with frantic energy, gesticulating wildly as he described in great, frenetic detail how the crowd had responded to a solo he had given, only to then throw himself onto the bed and be snoring in less than sixty seconds. The man had a gift.

Extricating yourself from his arms gently, so as not to wake him, you quietly slipped out of the bed and padded through to the lounge. The two of you had finally gotten your own place just a few months prior, after months of hard saving and a few lucky breaks with your work and Eddie's band.

The house was small, and a little bit run-down. The garden was a mess and there was a hole in the ceiling of the kitchen, not to mention the condensation that adorned the windows through winter. But it was yours. Something that you had both worked so hard for. The first place that had ever really felt like it belonged to either of you, instead of trespassing on the kindness of family or friends.

Eddie hadn't been sold on the place when you first went to view it together, seeing only the pitfalls and drawbacks, and wanting in his heart of hearts to give you a castle that you both knew you couldn't afford. But you were an artist, which meant that you were uniquely qualified to see what it could be, with some love and elbow grease.

You could see the way that the overgrown corner of the garden that got lots of sun would be perfect for a small herb or vegetable garden and some sunflowers. You could see where some small paving stones could guide a track to the bottom of the yard where a small bench could sit to allow you to read in the sun on warm days. The way the kitchen ceiling could be repaired, and the walls brightened into a homely yellow, the threadbare carpets stripped and the hardwood floors beneath polished and varnished.

The house had good bones, is what your Dad would say. You had described it to him and drawn him some pictures of your vision to show him when you had last visited, not long after moving in. He had been thrilled for the two of you and had made suggestions of his own, one of which you had incorporated almost immediately. Transforming the bay window into a reading nook had only taken an afternoon and the purchase of some cushions and blankets, but it had quickly become a favorite for both you and Eddie. He would curl himself behind you and listen to music, stroking your hair idly as you sketched or read, marveling at the way the sunlight played with the tendrils of your hair.

So, the house had potential, and although Eddie couldn't see it, he trusted you, and was happy to give his blind faith that the small, rough-around-the-edges house would be perfect in time. With most of your belongings now unpacked, the house felt more like a home, and you had planned a schedule for the coming year to tackle some of the projects and get the face-lift underway.

Eddie had been like Taz the Tasmanian Devil when it came to packing, and although it had been the embodiment of chaos, you couldn't bring yourself to regret allowing him to help you pack up your room. He had the attention span of a small child, and so spent more time playing with your things and trying on your clothes and smelling your lotions and products than what he did packing. But the unbridled joy on his face as he learned more about you via your things was worth the headache of having to unpack his mish-mash packing when you got to your new house.

Your Mom had helped you move, and had gifted you a small cactus as a housewarming gift. Clarence (the cactus) now sat on the kitchen windowsill where Eddie lovingly spoke to it every day while making his breakfast. Your Mom had been a godsend really. Neither of you really knew about all of the things that needed to be organized, so she had coached you through it step by step, and made sure that you knew ahead of time the paperwork that you would need to get approval for things like your insurance. You couldn't have done it without her, and she was now a regular dinner guest at your house, which had the added benefit of guaranteeing that she took at least one shift off per week so that she could make your standing dinner-date.

You stretched your hands above your head as you walked in to the kitchen, enjoying the way your muscles protested and your spine clicked. You poured yourself a small glass of orange juice, making a mental note to add milk to the grocery list, and then wandered back through to the lounge, pausing to smile at the painting taking pride of place above the mantel; your Vecna painting from graduation. You had argued with Eddie that there were other paintings you had done since then that were far superior, but he wouldn't budge.

You did have some other art framed on the wall though. Eddie had framed your first cover art from a D&D campaign book, after having cajoled you for close to an hour to get you to sign it before it was encased in glass. That frame hung neatly next to a framed posted of Corroded Coffin's first sold out show at a proper venue in Indianapolis.

You touched the frame absently with your fingers, straightening it slightly from where it had slipped on its hook, and remembered with a smile the bewildered look on Eddie's face after he came off stage from that concert.

It had been about 6 months prior, and after a small, but successful tour of bars in small towns all across the state, the band had been offered a spot in a big concert venue in Indianapolis; a venue that held over 500 people, and that were offering to pay them to play, instead of just offering free booze and some gas money as had been their experience to date.

The guys were, of course, thrilled, and accepted immediately, but you could tell over the following weeks as they prepared set lists and signed contracts, that Eddie was anxious that they would turn up to a mostly empty venue and feel as though they had gone backward. When the tickets went on sale, you had nabbed one of the posters, intending to frame it for him for his birthday, only to have to get another one 2 weeks later when the posters were reprinted to show that they were sold out with more dates to be added.

It was that poster that now hung on the wall, and you could easily recall the way that Eddie's cheeks had pinked when you had insisted that it be on the wall with the rest of your collective achievements. Although he didn't talk about it often, you got the feeling that Eddie hadn't been celebrated often while growing up.

The day that the manager had called to tell them that the show had sold out and ask if they were available for any future dates, Eddie had cried. He had been embarrassed about it afterward, and he had held it together until the end of the phone call, and then had promptly hung up, buried his head in his hands and hicupped his way through a few small sobs while you had panickedly held him.

The show itself had been incredible, as had all of the others that had followed it, with the band now having a semi-regular slot at the venue, and a group of dedicated, die-hard fans that travelled from all over the state to hear them. That first show had been electric, with an impenetrable wall of screaming fans pressed right up against the front of the stage chanting Eddie's name after a particularly delicious guitar solo. They had been cheered on to not one, but two encores, and the only reason they had escaped without a third was because they had run out of material that wasn't covers and the last thing they wanted was to get sued.

Eddie had run off stage, dripping with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, veins bulging in his forearms, callouses on his fingers ripped open, eyes wide in disbelief, and a smile of pure, unadulterated joy adorning his face. It was an expression you had been trying to recreate in your art ever since and always seemed to fall just shy of the mark.

Feeling nostalgic, you cast your eyes around the room, taking in all of the other little knick-knacks that you had accumulated in the last few years together: a snowglobe from Dustin after he went on holiday with his Mom; a strip of photos from the photobooth with you, Eddie, Steve, Robin, Nance, and Jonathan all crammed into the booth; a polaroid of Eddie with cake batter streaked all over his face after a failed attempt at a cake for your 1 year anniversary; a certificate that you had made for Eddie after he beat Lucas in a foot race. All tiny mementos of several years of happiness and love.

The calendar by the door had color coded pen to co-ordinate who was going to be in town and when so that you never missed an opportunity to see your friends, and somehow your friendships had survived well despite the distance, and you felt privileged to be seeing the younger cohort grow and mature. Although, you'd quite prefer it if they stopped with the actual growing. You were getting sick of having to look upward to give Mike an intimidating glare, and you'd given up on trying it with Will entirely; it stopped having the intended effect the day that he patted you on the head from his position almost a foot taller than you.

Standing in front of your bay window, looking at the bright sunlight on your newly-planted child-sized lemon tree, you nursed your orange juice and gave a moment of silent thanks to the universe for the wonder it had brought your way.

Mentally planning your schedule for the day and considering whether you should lift chicken out of the freezer for dinner or take Eddie out for burgers, you were interrupted from your musings by the sleepy grumble of Eddie as he padded out of the bedroom, eyes squinted closed and boxers slung low across his hips.

He stumbled blearily across to you and positioned himself behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his head onto your shoulder with a gentle huff. He nuzzled in close with a noise of contentment before unwrapping one of his arms to steal your glass of orange juice and downing it in one. He smacked his lips before making a face.

"Pulp" he explained with a grimace at your questioning eyebrow raise.

You laughed and kissed him on the temple, whispering "karma" into his ear and watching him pout the way you knew he would.

You returned to your observation of the front yard and Eddie kissed his way up your neck.

"Are you putting me to work today Tink? Where do you want me? You wanna see your man chopping wood, or pulling weeds? Painting? Sanding? I can take my shirt off and wear some tiny shorts and those workboots I know you love but won't admit?" You were laughing by now, spurred on by the salacious wiggle of his eyebrows. He may have only been awake for five minutes, but that was all it took to go from borderline zombie to full, hyperactive Munson. "Or maybe you want to see me cleaning? Dirty girl, I always knew that French maid outfit didn't come in my size by mistake, I-"

Laughing you put a hand over his mouth to stem the flow of verbiage, and then kissed the tip of his nose, chuckling again when he crossed his eyes to watch your approach.

"I thought I might tackle the garden today, since the weather's so nice?" you said. "I think that if I can pull all of the dead plants and the weeds out of that corner," you continued, pointing to the corner in question, "then I should be able to sneak in under the wire and get the winter veges planted before we lose our window."

Eddie was nodding excitedly before you'd even finished, energy now at full speed and ready to go.

"I'll help, I can be your hired muscle!" he said, flexing impressively in front of you.

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly, hands cupping either side of your face before departing to your bedroom to get dressed.

"Eddie," you called out, stopping him in his tracks just as he reached the door jamb, "wear the workboots" you finished with a blush. Eddie's grin turned feral, and he saluted you with a wink as he continued into the bedroom to get dressed.

Time to get to work.