Chapter Text
The chill October air bit through the thin fabric of your homecoming dress, a cruel contrast to the heat of humiliation burning your cheeks. The walk from Benny’s Burgers back to the trailer park felt like a mile-long walk of shame in heels you could barely afford. Each click on the asphalt echoed the ticking clock in the lonely diner where you’d waited for over an hour. Steve Harrington. King of Hawkins High. Of course he stood you up. The snickers as you finally fled were still ringing in your ears.
You just wanted to get inside, tear off this stupid, expensive dress, and disappear. But as you trudged up the gravel path, the glowing tip of a cigarette cut through the dark like a tiny, angry star. Your neighbor, Eddie Munson, was leaning against the side of his beat-up van, his denim vest looking black in the moonlight.
“Well, don’t you clean up nice,” his voice, a low, familiar rasp, cut through the quiet night. He took a long drag. “Shouldn’t you be gettin’ a slow dance from His Royal Hairness right about now?”
The genuine concern in his tone was the final straw. The dam broke. A choked sob escaped you as you shook your head, tears finally spilling over. “He… he didn’t show. It was a joke. A prank. For his friends.”
Eddie’s playful smirk vanished. He dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his boot with a sharp twist. “Those assholes,” he muttered, the words heavy with a protective venom you’d never heard from him before. You just mumbled an excuse and hurried inside, the weight of the world on your shoulders.
Fifteen minutes later, a firm, deliberate knock rattled the flimsy trailer door. Wiping your eyes, you opened it.
Eddie stood there, transformed. His wild curls were tamed, pulled back into a small ponytail. He’d swapped his battle jacket for a black button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. And he smelled different—a cloud of spicy, cheap cologne that was somehow perfect. Him.
“C’mon,” he said, his voice soft but firm. His dark eyes held yours, no trace of the joke he’d made earlier. “We’re going.”
“Eddie, I can’t—”
“You spent your savings on that dress. You did your hair. You are not letting that douchebag ruin your night. Get your purse. Your date is here.”
The gym was a swirl of garish colors and terrible music, but with Eddie’s hand resting protectively on the small of your back, it felt different. He got you a watery punch, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you the cup. You took a sip, Eddie leaned casually against the table, his dark eyes scanning the room before settling back on you.
“So,” he began, his voice low and teasing, “you really thought Steve Harrington was gonna show up for you tonight? What’s next, you believe in unicorns too?”
You shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Munson.”
He grinned, that familiar, crooked smile that always seemed to disarm you. “Hey, I’m just saying. The guy’s about as reliable as a wet match in a windstorm. You’re better off without him.”
“Yeah, well, it still hurts,” you admitted quietly, staring into the depths of your punch. “I guess I just… wanted to feel special for once.”
Eddie’s expression softened, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious. He reached out, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “You are special. And anyone who doesn’t see that—Steve Harrington included—is a damn idiot.”
The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. You searched his face, looking for any sign of mockery, but all you found was an earnestness that made your chest ache.
“Besides,” he added, his lips quirking back into that roguish grin, “you’ve got me now. And I’m way more fun than that douchebag.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound surprising even yourself. “Yeah, you’re definitely… something.”
“Something good, I hope,” he said with a wink.
“We’ll see,” you teased, though your smile betrayed the warmth bubbling in your chest.
The music shifted then, the opening notes of a slow song drifting through the gym. Eddie straightened, holding out his hand with a dramatic flourish. “May I have this dance, milady?” he asked, his tone mock-formal but his eyes shining with genuine anticipation.
You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He led you to the dance floor for a slow song, ignoring the stares, and pulled you close. His other hand settled on your hip, his thumb making slow, absent circles on the satin of your dress.
And then you saw them. Steve, Nancy Wheeler tucked under his arm, flanked by Tommy H. and Carol. They spotted you, and their smirks were like shards of glass. Tommy elbowed Steve, who had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. Nancy just looked away.
Eddie’s grip on you tightened. He leaned down, his lips close to your ear, his warm breath a comfort. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” He spun you gently, putting his body between you and their cruel laughter. “They’re nothing. A bunch of clowns in a dying circus.”
The warmth of him, the solidness of his body pressed against yours, felt like a fortress against the world. His hand was still on your hip, his thumb drawing slow, maddening circles that sent shivers up your spine. The way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the room, like you were everything—made your heart race. His dark eyes held yours, soft and unguarded, and for the first time that night, you didn’t feel like the punchline of a cruel joke. You felt seen. Cherished.
The confession bubbled up before you could stop it, words spilling out in a rush, tinged with vulnerability and a hint of desperation. “I had a crush on you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Back in freshman year. After you gave me that ride home.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parting slightly. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face, lighting up his features in a way that made your stomach flip. He ducked his head with a soft, incredulous laugh, his cheeks flushing under the dim lights of the gym.
“No shit?” he said, his voice warm and teasing but laced with something deeper—something real. He looked back up, his eyes shining with a mixture of disbelief and something that looked an awful lot like hope. “Well, sweetheart, that makes two of us. I’ve been… god, I’ve been in love with you since, like, the sixth grade. Never thought I stood a chance. Not with you.”
The admission hit you like a bolt of lightning, stealing your breath away. His words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, everything else faded—the music, the crowd, Steve and Nancy and their mocking glances. It was just the two of you, standing there, hearts laid bare.
The world narrowed to the space between your faces. The music faded. His hand came up, his calloused fingers gently cupping your jaw. He leaned in, and his kiss was nothing like you’d imagined. It wasn’t tentative or shy. It was certain. Soft at first, a question. Then deeper, an answer to a question you’d both been asking for years. When you finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. “You’re so much more than they’ll ever see,” he whispered, the words a vow.
The slow song ended, but Eddie didn’t let go. His hand lingered on your waist as the rhythm shifted to something faster, more upbeat. The energy in the gym shifted too, the crowd buzzing with laughter and chatter, but you barely noticed. Your heart was still racing, your thoughts tangled in the warmth of his confession, the way his lips had felt against yours.
“You’re not gonna bail on me now, are you?” Eddie teased, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
You shook your head, your fingers tracing the edge of his rolled-up sleeve. “Not a chance.”
He grinned, that familiar, crooked smile that always made your stomach flutter. “Good. Because I’m not ready to call it a night.” He glanced around the gym, his nose wrinkling at the bad lighting and cheesy decorations. “This place is kinda… meh. We could do better.”
“What did you have in mind?” you asked, your voice soft, barely audible over the music.
Eddie’s expression turned thoughtful, and then a mischievous glint sparked in his dark eyes. “You ever been to Lover’s Lake at night?”
Your breath hitched. “No.”
“It’s… peaceful. Quiet. No assholes,” he said, his tone light but his gaze serious. “Just the stars and the water. Think you’d like it.”
You hesitated, glancing toward the door where Steve and Nancy were still laughing with their friends. The thought of staying here, of enduring their stares and whispers, made your skin crawl. But with Eddie? Out under the open sky? It sounded like exactly what you needed.
“Let’s go,” you said firmly, surprising yourself.
Eddie’s grin widened, and he took your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. “Atta girl,” he said, pulling you toward the exit. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”
As you stepped out into the cool night air, the weight of the evening began to lift. With Eddie by your side, everything felt different—lighter, freer. Like the world had shifted and realigned itself just for you.
The drive to Lover’s Lake was quiet, filled with a new, electric tension. He spread an old quilt near the water’s edge, the stars reflecting off the dark surface like a thousand scattered diamonds. You lay side-by-side, his arm a warm weight around you, pointing out constellations he’d named after DnD monsters.
The snuggling turned slowly. A shift of his body. His lips found your temple, then your cheekbone, then your mouth again. This kiss was different. Hungrier. Years of pent-up want poured out of him. His hands began to roam, sliding down your back, pressing you into the blanket.
“Is this okay?” he breathed against your neck, his voice thick with desire.
“Yes,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in his curls.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure? 'Cause I’m not messing around here, sweetheart. This… it’s not just some fling for me.”
The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. “I know,” you said softly, your thumb brushing his cheek. “It’s not for me either.”
A slow smile spread across his face, relief and something deeper softening his features. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been waiting for this a long damn time.”
His fingers, clever and nimble from years of weaving guitar strings, found the zipper of your dress. He tugged it down slowly, the sound loud in the silent night. The cool air hit your skin, followed immediately by the heat of his mouth on your shoulder, your collarbone. He peeled the dress down to your waist, his eyes dark with awe as he looked at you in the starlight. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the lace edge of your bra before he unhooked it.
He worshiped your breasts with his hands and mouth, his tongue circling a nipple until you were arching off the blanket, a moan caught in your throat. His own shirt was discarded, and you ran your hands over the pale skin of his chest, feeling the surprising muscle there, the beat of his heart hammering against his ribs. He fumbled with his jeans, kicking them off along with his boots, and then his hands were on your hips, tugging your panties down your legs.
He was above you then, completely bare, silhouetted against the starry sky. The length of him, hard and eager, pressed against your thigh. He reached down between you, his fingers sliding through your wetness, making you gasp. “All for me,” he growled, a possessive edge to his voice that sent a fresh thrill through you. “You’re all for me tonight.”
But then, instead of positioning himself, Eddie shifted lower, his hands sliding under your thighs as he pushed them apart. You felt his breath, hot and teasing, against your most sensitive place. “Eddie—” you started, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste you.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “You’re so fucking wet.” His tongue dipped inside you, slow and deliberate, before drawing upward to circle your clit. You cried out, your hands flying to his hair, gripping his curls as he worked you with his mouth. He was relentless, his tongue swirling and stroking, his lips sucking lightly at your most sensitive spot. Every movement sent bolts of pleasure through you, building the tension in your core until you were trembling beneath him.
“Eddie… oh god…” you moaned, your hips lifting instinctively, seeking more of his touch. He responded by doubling down, his tongue pressing harder, faster, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread open for him. The world outside—the lake, the stars, the cool night air—faded away until there was nothing but the heat of his mouth and the dizzying pleasure spiraling through you.
“That’s it,” he murmured against you, his voice vibrating through your body. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”
And just like that, you shattered. Your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your back arching off the blanket as you cried out his name. He stayed with you through every second, his tongue gentle now, coaxing you through the aftershocks until you were left trembling and spent.
He kissed his way back up your body, his lips brushing your hipbone, your stomach, your breasts, before finally reaching your mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, salty and sweet, as he kissed you deeply. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with emotion.
He positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He held himself there for a agonizing moment, his eyes locked on yours, his breathing ragged. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want you, Eddie. I’ve always wanted you.”
With a groan of pure need, he pushed inside. It was a slow, delicious, full feeling that stole the air from your lungs. He buried his face in your neck, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. “Fuck… you feel… I can’t…”
He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that built with every thrust. His hips met yours with a building intensity, each movement claiming you, cherishing you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust. The sounds of your joined bodies, skin against skin, your ragged breaths, and his low, guttural moans were the only music you needed.
He shifted, sitting back on his heels, pulling you into his lap without ever leaving the warm, wet clutch of your body. The new angle was breathtaking, his thick length grinding deep inside you, hitting a spot that made your toes curl. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him, your breasts bouncing with every thrust. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed you harder, faster.
"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his voice ragged and desperate. His eyes were locked on your chest, watching as your tits swayed with each movement, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “Look at you,” he breathed. “My girl. Coming apart on my cock under the stars.”
You moaned, the sensation of him filling you completely overwhelming. His cock was thick, stretching you in the most delicious way, every inch of him hitting every sensitive spot inside you. The pressure built with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the night air. His hands moved from your hips to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.
"Eddie," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "God, please… don’t stop."
He chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening around your breasts as he thrust up into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. "Not a chance, sweetheart," he growled, his voice low and rough. "You feel too good. Too fucking perfect."
The pleasure was building, coiling tight in your belly, and you could feel it threatening to explode. He leaned forward, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he continued to fuck you relentlessly. You cried out, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, your body trembling as you clenched around him.
"That’s it," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. "Come for me, baby. Let go."
And you did, screaming his name as your climax tore through you, your body writhing in his arms. He followed soon after, his own release spilling deep inside you with a guttural moan. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths and the distant lapping of the lake water.
For a long moment, you stayed like that, forehead to forehead, breathing each other’s air, connected in the most intimate way possible. Finally, still buried inside you, he gently lowered you back onto the blanket, covering your body with his, nuzzling your neck.
He brushed the hair from your damp forehead, his voice a hoarse, satisfied whisper. “Tell me what you want..."