#eddie munson drabble

[wonderlandwalker]

First Impressions

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: eddie munson x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n

𝐚/𝐧: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it

“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.

“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.

“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.

“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.

“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it. 

The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.

“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”

“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.

As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile.

“Alright, not a fan of handshakes, noted.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.

“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.

“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.

Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out

“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.

“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition. 

He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely

“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.

“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do.

“Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.

“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand 

“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.

Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold. 

“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.

“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do.

“- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face.

“You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.

“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking

“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.

“I’d love to.” 

“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.

“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence. 

“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.

[asoftsighh]

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the morning after you and eddie get married 

937 words - c/w: alludes to sex the previous night, reader is referred to as “wife”

The sun is awfully bright. Too bright. 

It spills through the sheer curtains, painting everything in your bedroom in a warm, honey-colored haze. Your face is pressed into your pillow, naked body covered somewhat by the bedsheet, but mostly by Eddie. You must have turned your back to him sometime when you were sleeping, but that has never stopped him. He is draped over you, face smooshed into the back of your shoulder, limbs tangled together. 

You smile to yourself, turning to press your face in his hair. While moving, you catch a glimpse of your bedroom. Your white dress is draped over the chair, at least. Everything else is strewn about – bits of Eddie’s suit here and there, one of your heels on the dresser, the other missing. Your underwear and his pants sit in a pile on the floor in front of the mirror. 

Last night. You and Eddie had been giddy, hands and mouths roaming over each other fervently. Warmth spreads in your lower belly, simply at the thought of it. From the sky outside, it seems that you’ve gotten enough sleep to make up for it. Although the soreness brewing between your legs says something else. 

Eddie is still asleep, small breaths escaping his parted lips, leaving goosebumps along your bare skin. At least he’s wearing boxers, the soft cotton rubbing against the back of your thighs. 

Whether it’s your body shifting or he knows you’re watching him, he starts to wake up. It’s small changes, his hand twitching where it rests on your hip, legs straightening and relaxing once again. But you know how to read him.

“Morning,” you whisper, voice groggy with the remaining dregs of sleep, yet you’re already smiling. You comb his wild hair through your fingers, away from his face so you can see him. To no surprise, he’s smiling too. 

He inhales as you move beneath him, melting into you once you settle, happy to be anywhere as long as it's with you. Pressing his nose to the side of your neck, he murmurs, “Was that a dream?”

“No,” you whisper, voice quiet. “We’re married. You’re my husband.”

Eddie cracks an eye open, and the second he focuses on your face, he grins so wide it makes your stomach flip. 

“Jesus,” he says, voice warm and elated. “We got married.”

You nod, smiling so wide that your cheeks start to burn. “You cried.”

He makes some sort of noise, a mix of a laugh and a groan, as he flops over on his back and pulls you against him. “What did you expect? You looked beautiful.” Your cheek settles on his bare collarbone, arm stretching over his middle. “You are beautiful. How the hell did I manage to get you?”

You giggle into his skin, idly tracing one of his tattoos with your finger. “By making me breakfast.” As if on cue, your stomach lets out a grumble. 

He hums, kissing your temple and forehead. “What do you want, baby? Bagels? Bacon? Eggs?” He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he would get you anything you want. You both already know that. 

You sit up just enough to meet his eyes, blinking innocently. “Cake.”

His brows lift. “Cake?”

“For breakfast,” you confirm. “There’s some left in the fridge. I want to eat it in bed.”

Eddie blinks at you, then laughs, rolling away with an exaggerated sigh and sitting up. “Fine. I’ll brave the cold, cruel kitchen for you. But only because you’re my wife and I’m trying to start our marriage off on a strong foundation of obedience.”

You laugh until he leaves the room, maneuvering his way around the mess, and then sigh. You snuggle deeper into the bed, warm and sore and glowing, limbs heavy with contentment.​ 

He returns a couple minutes later, a large slice of cake in one hand, two forks with the other. “Here you are, m’lady.”

You grin, sitting up and holding the sheet against your chest. Even though there’s nothing he hasn’t seen, you’d like to have some sort of modesty. “You’re my hero.”

He sits in bed beside you, settling against the headboard, arm behind your shoulders. You both eat quietly, occasionally kissing frosting off each other’s fingers, laughing with your mouths full. 

“This is disgusting,” he says around a bite. “I’m so happy.”

You hum, licking frosting off the tines of your fork. “We should get married more often.”

He abandons his fork in favor of wrapping his inked arms around your waist, pulling you into him until you’re sideways in his lap. You’re happy to be moved by him, even if it’s a bit sudden.  

His hands slide up your back, pulling you a little closer, a little tighter, like he could tuck you beneath his ribs and keep you there. He kisses you once, then twice for good measure. “Best night of my life,” he murmurs against them. 

“Mine too,” you whisper back, your lips finding his cheek and jaw in that familiar dance. “And now we get to spend every day together, until we’re old and cranky.”

Eddie’s voice is soft, wistful. Like he wants to hold and protect that future so nothing stops it from happening. “That’s the best part.”

You lift your head up to meet his eyes once more. “I love you.”

He cups your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I love you. I’d tell you every minute if you let me.”

“Then start now,” you say. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

He does. Of course he does. Over and over again, like a prayer, like a lullaby. 

[lis-likes-fics]

eddie munson drabble

cw: smut, swearing, aftercare. 1.5k words.

Eddie Munson is a talker.

Eddie doesn't know how to shut up during sex. When he's balls deep inside of you, your arms pinned over your head as he fucks you, he's a constant spout of curses and pants and groans and words of “you're so tight” or “you're so pretty” or anything along those lines.

It's nice, though, and you enjoy it: his constant praise, his reassurance that you're making him feel good just by the way he breathes.

But you're not loud. You can't help it—you're shy. When Eddie's making love to you, you express your pleasure in gentle sighs and tiny moans. Sometimes you whine a little louder than you mean to, or a gasp is sharper than intended. You don't need to say much. Eddie speaks enough for the both of you.

But there's something about this position that gets you.

He doesn't do it a lot—mostly because you don't end up in this position a lot. Eddie is usually between your legs, or maybe you're on top of him, something simple and effective. You enjoy it either way.

But in times like these—which you seem to keep rare—where he's got you on your knees, one hand on your hip and the other wrapped gently around your throat, you seem to lose control.

It's not on purpose. You enjoy the little sounds, the gentleness. Eddie does, too. He loves his shy girl more than anything.

But when you're on your knees, you're nothing but shy. It surprises him so much that he's the quiet one compared to you.

Eddie's fucking you nice and deep, fast thrusts that have you gasping and seeing stars. You grip the sheets and let your head fall limp on his hold as you moan and whine loud enough to be heard clearly in the living room. (Granted it's a small trailer, but usually Eddie has to focus in to hear you when he's only inches away.)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry, your breaths rough and raspy. “Oh, fuck, don't stop. Please, please, please.”

Your words are pitchy and loud. They sound like you might actually be crying as his hips slam into yours. He has to keep checking to make sure you aren't.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he asks, his grip tightening on your hip. “You like bein’ fucked like this?”

You nod quickly, a tearful huff slipping out of you. “Yes, Eddie! Yes, so much. Feels so fucking good, baby. Please don't stop, please.”

He's drunk on the sound of you. There's something so special about hearing you express your pleasure so much. He loves you shy, but this version of you also has a very special place in his heart.

“Won't stop, sweetheart,” he huffs. “Won't stop ‘til you fuckin’ cum for me. I'll have you cryin’, huh? You wanna cry for me, baby?”

You nod your head into the pillow, gripping the sheets until your knuckles pale. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes, make me cry for you, Eddie. God, fuck.”

Eddie's breath is thick, coming out in harsh puffs at the sound of your pleas. He reaches one hand to your clit, rubbing at it and grunting at the way you cry out.

“Fuck. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Eddie. You're gonna make me cum, Eddie.” Your voice is thick with pleasure, your breaths shaky.

Eddie's thrusts are unsteady now, shorter and rougher as he nears his own release. “Yeah? You feel good, baby?”

You're chanting “yes” over and over like a prayer on your tongue, each one more faithful than the last. His name slips from your lips again, and it feels like an orgasm on its own with the way the E erupts, the way the D’s stick on your tongue like honey, the I drags out in a desperate cry.

You choke on the pleasure, and you do it with joy. “Oh, God, Eddie,” you gasp. The names so close together, an interesting pair, makes sense in this moment when his cock thrusts into you and makes you see stars you could easily be convinced he placed in the sky himself.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, please,” you beg, burying your face in the sheets on the mattress as he grips your hips and smacks his hips into them. You bite down on the, the cheat cotton indented with the shape of your teeth as your pitchy moans turned into a sound that mimics a growl.

Eddie's going to lose it, looking down at you and seeing the way he's making you so feral. You're like a wolf tasting lamb for the first time, a delicate and addictive taste that has your mouth watering and your hunger running deeper than instinct.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his thrusts sloppy and his finger a messy, almost rough circle on your clit. “You look so—fuckin’ pretty like this. So fucked out on my cock, screamin’ my name like a fuckin’ angel.”

Tears have unblurred your vision as they slip down your cheeks. You can't help it. What you're feeling is reaching down into your soul and unleashing a lust that you hadn't known existed until the very first time he had you like this. It takes you by surprise each time, fills you up and leaves you wanting.

“Eddie. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, my God, Eddie.” Your voice will be sore in the morning, if the roughness of its sound now is any indication. “I-I'm gonna cum for you, Eddie. Eddie, you're gonna make me fuckin’ cum, Eddie.”

Your words are climbing higher and higher, the pitches rising like the prayers you were just sending to him ascending to the sky. You echo his name as the waves grow, charging on you with force and speed, but bating you all the same.

A harsh thrust makes you choke, and as you take a breath in, the water consumes you, and then you choke on that. You cry out his name, claw at the sheets—which fall from your mouth in disregard as you gasp around the pleasure.

The waves wash over you, crash after crash after crash, a swell of pleasure all over you. You go blind with it, your hands flexing straight.

Eddie keeps rubbing at your clit, slamming into you. As you clench down around his cock, a tight, crushing hug that makes him stagger, he follows right after you. “Ah, fuck, sweetheart,” he huffs, a moan squirming out of him as he buries himself to the hilt, listening as your pussy squelches around him.

He curses as you gasp, riding the high together as every atom in your body buzzes with pleasure. You cry out his name, rambling “I love you. Fuck, you're fucki—Ahh, I love you. S’fuckin’ perfect.” Half your words are cut off by moans or more words, other times they're blurred into the same until you're not quite sure what's been said.

His sounds are relatively the same. Stacked on top of each other, you both ramble as you burst, mewling as you're filled to the brim with his warmth and his love.

Your eyes blur as the crashing ends, and you fall down against his sheets. You feel yourself losing time, losing all feeling but the delightful buzz of your release. The feeling of his hands pawing at your flesh comes into focus later, along with the weight partially bearing itself onto you in his own creeping exhaustion.

You blink heavily, humming when you feel the warmth of chest on your back and the love of his lips at your neck, tickling behind your ear. “So pretty,” he whispers between kisses to your skin. “You did fuckin’ amazing for me, princess. So good, baby. So perfect.”

You bask in his care, in the haze of his cooing. His knuckles brush against your sides, rubbing into your hips as if apologizing for the bruising touch you hadn't even realized before. “Thank you for lettin’ me touch you, sweetheart,” he smiles. “So good for me.”

Your answer is a deep dumb that sits in your throat. Eventually, he turns you over and begins wiping away your tears with gentle thumbs. “You still with me?”

You nod, though your eyes are glazed and your smile is sticky. “Yeah,” you manage. “Just feel–” You take a deep breath. “Feel r’lly good.”

His smile rivals the sun. “Yeah? That's good. I'm glad.”

He leans down, kissing you so gently as he continues to embrace you with the gentlest fingers. You lift one hand, carding it through his tangled hair and rubbing the pads of your own fingers into his scalp. He hums.

“I love you, sweetheart. You know that?” He smiles. “Even when you're screaming.”

The delicacy is broken by a shocked laugh, snort included. “Sorry,” you say between bumpy giggles. “I just get excited.”

His gentler laugh is rough with the roll of his uvula at his throat. “Don't apologize. I said even when you're screaming—shoulda said ‘especially’.”

You hum again, your laugh still present but reduced to a tiny chuckle. “I love you, too.” You scratch his scalp at the back of his head so lightly, watching his lashes flutter. Then you reach up to kiss him again, his lips, then his forehead.

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[thepinkpanther83]

Hihihi! Truly the coffee shop!reader series is one of my favorite fics of all the fics I’ve read 🤩 I’m just thinkin about that Eddie going way overboard trying to be romantic for the first time, after his fuckboy days — full-on rose petals leading to fancy-smelling bath, champagne chilling, etc. 🥲 Reader is sorta teasing him, but then she sees how nervous and self-conscious he is, which makes her turn into a lovesick little puddle for him 🥹 If you’d wanna use that to write something maybe 👉🏼👈🏼 🖤

Grease And Honey: “Pedals And Petals”

Story Request: “Grease And Honey Follow Up, One-Shot Request”

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

💌 Author’s Note: Endless thanks to @goingxsteddie for this insanely fun prompt-request that kicked this one off, your prompts never miss, (yes, I have your other one in the works as well), and this one was no exception. I had an absolute blast writing this messy, tender, unhinged little rollercoaster, and I hope it gave you everything you were hoping for and then some. 😏 As always, thanks to everyone reading along and screaming in the tags, and comments, you make writing in this fandom such a joy. 💋

This story is a follow up to “Grease And Honey” but can be read as a standalone if you really want to.

~Pinkie 🍒

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

🎸🛠️☕🍯 Summary: When Eddie sets out to impress you in his own chaotic, over-the-top way, it quickly turns into something far more intimate than either of you expected. What begins as a heated night of indulgence spirals into something sweeter, soap, steam, and stolen whispers in the dark. Champagne might be involved. Feelings definitely are. 🍾

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Grease And Honey: “Pedals And Petals”

Eddie had been acting weird all morning.

Not the bad kind of weird, no pacing, no snappy remarks, no storming off to the garage pretending he wasn’t sulking. No, this was something else. Something quieter. Shiftier. It's the kind of weird where he kissed your forehead before you left for work, then kissed it again like maybe he didn’t do it right the first time.

You caught him watching you as you put your earrings in. Just watching. Not the usual hungry look that meant he was already planning how he was gonna fuck them off you later. This was softer. Sweeter. A little intense, even for him.

When you asked him what he was up to tonight, he gave you that voice. The too-casual one. The one he used when he was trying to act cool but had already spiraled into full-on panic mode about something.

“Thought I’d handle dinner tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve been on your feet all week. Figured I’d return the favor.”

Return the favor.

As if he didn’t already cook for you half the time. As if he didn’t already keep a drawer full of your favorite snacks in the shop. As if he hadn’t practically run someone off the road last week when they stole your parking spot outside the café and flipped you off like you were the problem.

You kissed his cheek and told him you’d be home late.

He kissed your hand before you walked out the door, staring at it for a moment too long.

Weird.

Back at home, hours later, Eddie Munson was having a fucking meltdown.

He was standing in the middle of your shared living room, barefoot and half-dressed, with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a lighter in the other. His hair was tied back in a low bun… a fancy bun, he’d decided, and he was sweating like he’d just sprinted a mile.

He’d lit too many candles. That much was obvious. A few mason jars were now sitting precariously on window sills, the coffee table, and even on the amp in the corner that definitely wasn’t fireproof. But the vibe had to be right. Romantic. Grown-up. Fiancé shit.

There were rose petals on the floor. There were more rose petals leading to the bathroom. He’d bought a bottle of some lavender crap he knew you’d like (he 100% asked the girl at the store for the “bougiest bath shit you got”) and dumped it into the tub like it was motor oil, figured the more bubbles, the better. Now the entire bathroom smelled like a high-end spa in the woods.

The mirror was fogging up even though no one was in the bath yet.

The champagne was sweating in a vintage ice bucket Wayne had handed over this morning with a grunt and a smirk. Eddie didn’t ask where the hell he’d gotten it from. He didn’t want to know.

He’d cleaned the whole house. Vacuumed. Mopped. Lit some earthy-ass incense he found in a drawer. He even used the expensive aftershave that smelled like leather and vanilla instead of “whatever the hell’s in reach.”

His precious Warlock was leaning on the wall nearby. He thought about playing something sexy on it, maybe when she walked in, but then immediately scrapped the idea because Jesus Christ, what was he, a male escort?

He checked the clock again. She’d be home any minute.

Eddie was topless, tattoos, and happy trail on full display, and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Black ones. Tight enough to show off. Because if he was gonna be vulnerable and romantic and try, then at least he was gonna look good while doing it.

He blew out a breath, ran a hand through his hair, and gave himself a quick once-over in the hall mirror. His heart was thudding like a drum solo. His voice in his head, ‘What if it’s too much? What if she laughs? What if you’re trying too hard? What if-’

He looked down at his bare chest. Shaved. Clean. Smelling like eucalyptus.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m a goddamn Old Spice commercial.”

Still, his gaze flicked to the picture of the two of you taped to the fridge, one from months ago, your legs thrown over his lap, both of you sun-drunk and grinning, and the panic softened just a little.

He’d checked that ring on your finger three times today. Had to make sure it was still there. Still real.

Because tonight… Tonight wasn’t about getting laid. It was about proving that he could love you the way you deserved. Messy and beautiful. Honest and soft. Loud where it mattered. Quiet where it counted.

God help him.

​​The front door creaked open with that familiar groan of old hinges and good intentions.

You barely had a chance to call out his name before you saw it, red petals scattered like someone had exploded a bouquet across the floor, soft flickers of candlelight dancing along the walls, the faint curl of lavender steam trailing out from the bathroom.

You stood there, bags still hanging off your wrist, blinking like you’d just walked into someone else’s house.

But then… There he was.

Leaning in the doorway to the living room, shirt completely nonexistent, black jeans riding low on his hips, exposing tattoos and a delectable happy trail, hair tied back in a low bun, the edges of his bangs curling from leftover heat.

His fingers were tucked in his back pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them, shoulders square but stiff, like he was trying not to fidget. He’d shaved. He rarely bothered to shave. His chest looked like the glossy cover of a biker romance novel and it was all very…

“Okay,” you said slowly, trying not to laugh. “Are you about to propose again or are you secretly dying?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but there was a twitch in his jaw that betrayed him. “Real funny.”

You dropped your keys in the bowl by the door and kicked off your shoes, careful not to smudge the trail of petals. “Because if this is, like, your terminal make-a-wish fantasy? I’d like a heads up before I start sobbing in my work pants.”

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, turning away just enough for you to see the color bloom in his ears. Then a subtle ear tug… Oh, there it was. Classic Munson giveaway.

You narrowed your eyes as you stepped further inside, setting your bag down on the couch as you took in the entire scene, candles, bath, champagne, rose petals like something out of a softcore porno. It was dramatic. Lavish. Almost painfully sweet.

Your lips quirked.

“You serious with all this?” you asked, crossing your arms loosely over your chest.

He shrugged. Tried to play it off. “Figured I’d... do something nice. Been a long week. You’ve been working like hell. Thought maybe you’d want some time to chill out.”

You tilted your head, watching him squirm. “So your solution was a candlelight bath and shirtless brooding?”

“I’m not brooding,” he shot back too quickly. “I’m standing.”

“Uh-huh.” You stepped closer, voice softening. “And the petals?”

He rolled his eyes again, but it was weak, shaky. “I panicked. They were next to the bath bombs. I bought too many. The lady at the store called me ‘sir’ and it threw me off my game.”

Your smile cracked into something real then, all fond and warm and kind of stupid. “Oh, baby…”

Eddie looked up at you then.

And that was the end of it.

All the teasing dropped right out of your chest.

Because under all that bravado, under the abs and the aftershave and the dramatic lighting… was your Eddie. Nervous and flushed and trying so hard not to mess it up. The man who once couldn’t be bothered to text back after midnight was now standing here half-naked in candlelight, praying you'd like his bubble bath aesthetic.

Your voice caught, just a little. “You really did all this... for me?”

He opened his mouth like he was gonna make a joke, something cocky or dumb to deflect. But he didn’t. He just nodded, hand tugging at his earlobe again, eyes holding yours.

“Yeah,” he said. Quiet. Honest. “Wanted it to be nice. Wanted you to feel good. Figured... I don’t know. You deserve it. You deserve all of it.”

God. You were so gone for him.

You stepped right up into his space, slid your hands up his chest, still warm from leftover steam and nerves. His breath hitched like he didn’t quite know what to do with the contact.

You kissed him.

Slow. Deep. No teasing now. No jokes.

Just you and him and the way his shoulders finally relaxed like he’d been holding his breath since noon.

You kissed him like he was the first soft place you’d ever landed.

Because he was.

His hands finally left his pockets, fingers curling around your hips like he was afraid you'd vanish if he didn't hold on tight. The kiss tasted like the spearmint gum he'd been chewing all afternoon, nervous habit, and something deeper, warmer, just Eddie.

When you pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead dropped against yours with a quiet thunk. "Fuck," he muttered, voice rough. "Was gonna play it cool for at least five more minutes."

You laughed softly, thumb brushing over the sharp cut of his jaw. "You? Cool? With all this?" You gestured vaguely at the rose petals, the candles, the way his pulse was rabbiting under your fingertips.

His grin was crooked, boyish. "Okay, fair. But in my defense, I did consider just ordering pizza and calling it a night."

"Mm. And yet." You trailed your fingers down his bare, smooth chest, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. "Here we are."

Eddie exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers flexing against your waist. "Yeah. Here we are."

For a moment, he just looked at you, eyes dark and unbearably fond. Then, with a sudden, decisive movement, he scooped you up, one arm under your knees, the other cradling your back.

You yelped, grabbing his shoulders as he lifted you like you weighed nothing. "Jesus, Eddie-"

"The bath can wait," he said, like that explained everything, and carried you toward the bedroom like some kind of romantic caveman.

The bedroom was dim, kissed with leftover candlelight spilling in from the hall. The bed was somewhat unmade because of course it was, and you could smell his cologne clinging to the sheets like static.

Eddie set you down gently, like you were breakable, but kept one arm wrapped around your back even after your feet hit the floor. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed like he was trying to memorize the shape of your breathing.

You tilted your head, pressing a kiss just under his jaw. “You gonna tell me what this is really about?”

His breath caught. A pause. Then, “Just wanted to do it right.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face. “Do what right?”

He hesitated. Shrugged again. That Eddie shrug, the one that meant he was hiding something behind all the tattoos and bravado. “Everything. Us. You. The whole... being-a-good-fiancé thing.”

Your brow furrowed. “Baby…”

“I know I’m not always-” He cut himself off, licking his lips. “You deserve the kinda guy who remembers anniversaries without setting three alarms. Who, like… wears matching socks. Who doesn’t lose his shit when you leave a light on in the car and the battery dies.”

You stepped in close again, palms sliding up his bare chest, thumbs brushing over the curve of his collarbones. “That’s not what I need. That’s not what I want.”

He looked at you then, eyes stormy and soft all at once. “No?”

You shook your head, slow. Certain. “You wanna know what I want?”

Eddie nodded like he wasn’t sure he could survive the answer.

“I want you.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Exactly like this.” Kissed the other side. “Stupid petals. Shitty candles. Fancy soap and all.”

His laugh was shaky, but it was there. “That lavender crap cost, like, twenty bucks. I almost had to fistfight a yoga mom for the last bottle.”

You grinned, brushing your knuckles over his cheek. “Worth every penny. But that’s not what made tonight special.”

“What was it, then?”

You leaned in, pressed your lips to his again, slow and tender, then whispered, “The fact that you tried.”

His throat bobbed, his hands tightening where they rested on your hips. You felt the tension rolling off of him, that stubborn little voice in the back of his mind still insisting he had to be more. Do more.

So you pulled back enough to look him dead in the eyes.

“No one’s ever loved me the way you do,” you said softly. “And no one ever could.”

He blinked hard, lashes fluttering. You saw it… the war inside him. The part of him that wanted to deflect, crack a joke, run from the weight of that truth.

And he tried to, bless him. He cleared his throat and mumbled, “Yeah, well… took me long enough to get it right.”

But you didn’t let him get away with it.

You cupped his face, kissed the tip of his nose, then said it again, mean this time. “You’ve always gotten it right.”

Eddie’s breath shuddered out of him like a car stalling on an icy road.

“I love every version of you, Ed,” you murmured. “Past and present. Every inch. Every layer. Every dumbass hoodie and every beautifully broken piece. All of it.”

His hands rose like he couldn’t stop them, cradling your face now, thumbs grazing over your cheeks like you were a dream he wasn’t ready to wake up from. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he rasped.

You smiled through the lump in your throat. “Not before I love you half to death first.”

And that was all it took.

The kiss that followed wasn’t slow… it was hungry, all hands and breath and heart. He backed you toward the bed without breaking contact, every step electric, like he couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t be enough, fast enough.

But he already was.

He always had been.

His knees hit the edge of the mattress first, and then yours followed, the two of you tumbling back onto the sheets in a tangle of limbs and desperate hands. His mouth was hot against yours, teeth catching your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp, and he swallowed the sound like he was starving for it.

One of his hands slid under your shirt, calloused fingers skimming up your ribs like he was mapping new territory. The other tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss down the column of your throat, each press of his lips a brand.

"Fuck," he breathed against your skin, voice wrecked already. "You have nooo idea what you do to me."

You arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders. "I think I have some idea."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and blown wide, hair falling loose from its bun in wild, inky brown locks. "No," he said, shaking his head. "You don't. You can't." His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, reverently. "Because if you did, you'd know why I lose my goddamn mind every time you look at me like that."

You reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Then tell me."

Eddie exhaled sharply, like the words were being dragged out of him. "You make me feel things, sweetheart. Big, messy, terrifying things. And I don't-" He swallowed hard. "I don't know what to do with all of it."

You traced the line of his jaw, the stubble already rough against your fingertips. "You don't have to do anything with it. Just feel it."

His breath hitched. "That's the scary part."

You smiled, soft and knowing. "I know."

And then you kissed him again, slow and deep, pouring everything you couldn't say into the press of your lips.

Because Eddie Munson didn’t need grand gestures or perfect words.

He just needed you.

And you’d spend the rest of your life making sure he never forgot it.

Eddie kissed you like he’d waited a lifetime for this moment, like now that you were here… his, really his… he could finally breathe. Your fingers tugged at the waistband of his jeans, dragging him flush against you, and he groaned into your mouth, deep and rough, like just being touched by you unraveled him completely.

The bed dipped as his weight settled over you, the mattress dotted with crushed rose petals that clung to your skin like little confessions. The sheets smelled like him, warm cedar, smoke, a hint of vanilla from candles he passed by on the way in.

“Still think I went overboard?” he rasped, lips trailing down your throat.

You gasped softly, arching under him. “You definitely went overboard.”

He pulled back, eyes gleaming with something wicked. “Yeah?”

You smirked. “And I love every bit of it.”

His grin turned feral, one hand sliding up to lace your fingers together… left hand, and he brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss right to the spot where your engagement ring sat snug and glinting in the low light.

“Mine,” he murmured against your knuckles. “You said yes.”

You were already breathless, but something about the way he said that made your whole body ache.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, softer this time, almost in awe. “Forever.”

Then he kissed the ring again. Then your wrist. Then the inside of your elbow. And by the time his mouth was at your throat again, you were gone.

Every touch was reverent. Worshipful. Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to make you moan or cry, so he aimed for both. One hand held your joined fingers above your head, the other skimming under your shirt, palm wide and warm, like he wanted to memorize you by feel.

“You don’t know,” he said suddenly, voice low and rough, mouth dragging along your collarbone. “You don’t fucking know what you do to me.”

You smiled, teasing despite how far gone you already were. “Think I’m starting to get the idea.”

He pulled back just enough to look you dead in the eyes. Then he grinned.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, leaning in until his lips brushed your ear, “Keep smirking like that and I’m gonna keep you here all night.”

You shivered. Hard.

He stripped you slow, like he wanted to savor every inch. He kissed down your stomach, mouthed at your thighs. Every touch, every look, every breath screamed that he knew you, body and soul, and that tonight, he was going to make sure you knew him too.

He stood up by the edge of the bed for a moment, chest rising slow like he was trying to calm himself, but his hands were already on his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle filled the air, followed by the low drag of denim down his thighs. You barely had time to look before he reached in, wrapped a hand around his cock, and pulled it free of his boxers, thick, flushed, hard as hell. His gaze flicked to you as he stroked himself once, twice, just to make you watch. “This what you waiting for, baby?” he rasped. “Do you want it bad enough?”

And then he was on you.

When he finally slid it inside you, it wasn’t gentle, it was deep, hard, claiming, like he needed to remind you who you belonged to. He shoved in with a filthy groan, his ringed hand gripping the back of your neck, pulling your mouth to his like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you. Every thrust was rough and purposeful, the kind that made your whole body jolt up the mattress and ruck up the sheets. “Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he bit out against your lips, hips grinding into yours, owning the moment with that unrepentant, ex-fuckboy confidence… only now it was all only for you.

“Look at me,” he growled, dragging his nose along your jaw. “I want you to see how pretty you are when I wreck you.”

You moan and tighten your legs around his hips.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, “no one… no one’s ever gonna love you like I do.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulled him in even closer. “I don’t want anyone else.” You rasped into his ear.

And he felt that.

You could feel him feel it, his rhythm stuttering, his breath catching, that little growl low in his throat.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he groaned, his hand gripping your thigh, pulling it higher over his hip so he could sink even deeper like he needed to own the shape of you. “You like seeing me like this, don’t you? All fucked up and stupid for you.”

You met every thrust, every kiss, every word, with something soft and brutal and loving. And when you came, it was with his name on your lips and your ring flashing in the candlelight like a promise sealed in sweat and silk and sighs.

He was also close, you could feel it in the way his rhythm turned erratic, thrusts deeper, rougher, like his body was chasing the high before his mind could catch up. You started clenching around him, milking him from the inside. His jaw clenched, teeth bared as he hissed through them, “Fuck… you’re gonna make me cum-”

Then he did, he bites your shoulder and shudders through gritted teeth, and a choked-off growl, as he rocked into you one final time and spilled deep inside, cock twitching as his hips bucked through it. His whole body trembled, forehead pressed to your shoulder now, hands fisting the sides of the mattress like he needed something to hold onto while you wrung him dry. He kept grinding, slow and brutal, drawing it out, making sure you felt all of him, the heat, the weight, the way your name ripped out of him like a sin too good to stop repeating.

Afterward, you lay tangled in sweat-slick sheets, rose petals stuck to your skin like confetti after a wedding. He moved, his head now rested on your chest, arm draped over your belly like he was trying to keep you there forever.

“You still think you didn’t do it right?” you murmured into his hair.

Eddie sighed, lips curling against your sternum. “Nah,” he said quietly. “I think I finally fucking nailed it.”

You snorted, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of his head. “You sure did, Munson.”

In that haze of candlelight and afterglow, you whispered, “I’m so lucky you’re mine.”

His breath hitched against your skin, fingers tightening ever so slightly around your waist. For a moment, he didn't respond, just pressed his lips to the hollow of your throat, lingering there like he was trying to carve the words into his memory.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, barely above a whisper.

"Lucky?" He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head against you. "Sweetheart, I'm the one who won the goddamn lottery."

His hand slid up, fingers brushing over your engagement ring again… slow, reverent, before tangling with yours.

"You could've had anyone," he murmured. "Some rich asshole with a house in Loch Nora. Some clean-cut guy who remembers to change his oil on time." His thumb traced circles over your knuckles. "But you picked me. The burnout with a record, a man who for the longest time drove around in a van held together by duct tape and prayer."

You turned your head, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I'd pick you a thousand times over."

Eddie exhaled sharply, like the words punched straight through him. Then, with a sudden, desperate urgency, he rolled you both onto your sides, pulling you flush against his chest, arms locking around you like he was afraid you'd slip away.

"Say it again," he rasped, lips brushing your ear.

You smiled into the crook of his neck. "I'd pick you-"

"Again."

"Every time, Eddie."

He shuddered, burying his face in your hair. "Fuck."

Just like that, the king of Hawkins underground, the Dungeon Master, the man who never flinched at a fight, was reduced to a trembling mess in your arms, clinging to you like you were the only solid thing in his world.

You held him tighter.

Because this… This was the real Eddie Munson.

Not the leather and the rings and the killer smirk.

He was yours.

And you'd never let him forget it.

For a moment, all either of you could do was breathe. You were sweat-slicked, tangled, your heartbeat thundering in your ears like a storm that hadn’t quite passed. Eddie’s forehead was again pressed to your shoulder, the tip of his nose dragging along your skin as he huffed out a breath, almost disbelieving. One hand lifted to cradle the back of your head, the other slid from the bedsheets to rest over your stomach like he needed to ground himself to the here and now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmured against your collarbone, voice low and shot to hell. “You’re gonna end me.”

You smiled lazily, lips brushing his temple. “Worth it?”

He gave a weak, breathless chuckle. “Ask me again when I can feel my legs.”

But still, he held you like you were something precious. Reverent. Like this wasn’t just the best sex of his life… it was something more. Something real.

He kissed your temple, then your cheek. Then your hand, right where your fingers still curled around his wrist. “I don’t know how I got this lucky,” he whispered, thumb grazing your knuckles. “But I’m never letting go.”

You barely had time to reply before he was gathering you in his arms, moving with purpose. You let out a sleepy protest, limbs noodly and weak, but he only grinned.

“I said I had plans, didn’t I?” he teased, kissing the top of your head.

And then you smelled it and remembered.

The steam hit you first, thick with lavender and something citrusy. The tub was obscenely full of bubbles, piled high like a frothy mountain. A single candle flickered on the edge of the sink, casting warm light over the tiles. A chilled bottle of champagne and two glasses waited on a tray beside the tub, like something out of a dream.

Eddie set you down gently, hands lingering at your waist. “So. Uh.” He cleared his throat, suddenly bashful. “You wanna…?”

You arched a brow. “You gonna join me, or are you just the bath butler tonight?”

His laugh was startled, bright. “Fuck no, I’m joining. You think I went through all this trouble just to watch?”

You stepped in first, hissing as the heat licked over your skin. The water felt like heaven, bubbles slipping along your limbs, steam curling around your face. Eddie climbed in behind you a moment later, settling so you could lean back against his chest, his arms winding around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You sighed, your head tipping against his shoulder. “Guess you finally learned how to show off in the right ways.”

He scoffed, nuzzling his nose into your damp hair. “Next time I’m filling the garage with rose petals. Just wait.”

You laughed, soft and sleepy as his hands found yours beneath the water, thumbs stroking the backs of your fingers. He reached for the champagne next, popped it with a quiet fizz, and handed you a glass before pouring his own.

Clink.

A gentle toast.

“To you. To this. To everything we’ve been, everything we’re becoming together.”

The candlelight flickered across his face as you turned to look at him, and you couldn’t help it, you leaned in for another kiss. Slower this time. Luxurious. He tasted like champagne and heat and something sweeter than anything you'd ever known.

His lips curved into a smile against yours, fingers tracing idle patterns along your thigh beneath the water. The bubbles clung to his skin, catching in his dark hair, and you couldn't resist swiping a handful of foam onto his nose just to watch him scrunch it up in mock offense.

"Rude," he muttered, but his eyes were crinkled at the corners, warm and fond. He flicked a bit of suds back at you, then caught your wrist when you went to retaliate, pulling your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to your palm. "Nah, nah, no more fighting. This is relaxation time. We're supposed to be, like... zen or some shit."

You snorted. "You? Zen?"

He shrugged, the motion making the water ripple around you. "I can be zen. I'm very zen. Look at me, I'm basically a fucking monk right now."

You arched a brow, glancing pointedly at where his free hand was currently drifting very un-monk-like along your inner thigh. "Uh-huh."

Eddie grinned, unrepentant. "What? Monks can't appreciate beauty? That's discrimination."

You rolled your eyes but let him tug you closer, your back flush against his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder. The champagne bubbles popped against your tongue, crisp and bright, and you sighed, sinking deeper into the water, and into him.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the occasional drip of water from the faucet, the soft clink of your glass being set aside, Eddie's steady breathing against your ear. His fingers traced nonsense shapes along your arm, up and down, like he was memorizing you by touch alone.

Then, quietly, almost hesitant, "You ever think about it?" he asked. "The future, I mean."

You tilted your head to look at him. "What about it?"

He shrugged again, but there was something careful in the motion now. "I dunno. Just... us. Married. Maybe a bigger house, one that doesn't have wheels of course. A dog, or some shit." He paused for a moment and cleared his throat. "Kids, even."

Your breath caught. Eddie never brought up kids. Not seriously, anyway.

He must've felt the way you tensed, because he hurried to add, "Not like, now. Obviously. I mean, fuck, I can barely keep my shit together, let alone handle a tiny human." His laugh was a little shaky, but his fingers squeezed yours gently beneath the water. "Just... someday. Maybe soon? If you'd want that."

You turned in his arms to face him properly, water sloshing gently as you cupped his face. His eyes were wide, vulnerable, so unlike the usual confident Eddie Munson smirk. There was a faint flush high on his cheekbones, and you could feel his pulse racing where your thumb brushed his jaw.

"Eddie Munson," you said softly, watching his lashes flutter at the sound of his full name, "are you telling me you want to put a baby in me?"

He choked on air, spluttering. "Jesus, way to just… fuck-" But he couldn't hide the way his grip tightened on your hips, the way his gaze dropped to your stomach for half a second before snapping back up. "I mean. Yeah. Maybe. If you… fuck, don't look at me like that-"

You kissed him then, slow and sweet, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders. When you pulled back, his lips chased yours for a second before he caught himself, blinking dazedly.

"I'd want that," you whispered. "Someday. With you."

The noise he made was something between a groan and a whimper, his forehead thunking against yours. "Christ, sweetheart, warn a guy before you say shit like that. Gonna give me another boner." But he was grinning, giddy and bright, fingers tracing idle circles over the skin just above your hip bone. "Gotta get you that house first, though. With, like... a big yard. And a fucking dishwasher."

You laughed, threading your fingers through his damp hair. "Priorities."

"Damn right," he muttered, nipping at your jaw. "And a big bed. For... activities."

"Activities?" you echoed, grinning.

Eddie's eyes darkened, his hands sliding up your back to pull you flush against him. "Yeah," he rasped, lips brushing yours. "Lots of baby-makin’ activities."

You giggled against his lips, the sound soft and breathless as the bubbles lapped at your skin. “Baby-making activities,” you repeated, your nose brushing his. “What a romantic.”

He gave a mock bow in the tub, sloshing water over the side. “Thank you. I’m also available for weddings and funerals.”

You snorted, swatting his chest lightly. “Okay, definitely not funerals. You’d tell some wildly inappropriate story about the deceased and then light a joint during the eulogy.”

He pointed at you, smug. “Still romantic though.”

You rolled your eyes, turning just enough to rest your cheek on his chest again, his arms pulling you close. His thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles along the curve of your hip, and for a while, you both just existed like that, warm and wet and wrapped up in each other. No rush. No noise. Just the rhythm of your hearts syncing in the water.

Eventually, you spoke again, voice quieter now. “You really think about it? A house? A dog? Kids?”

Eddie’s response was immediate. Honest. “Every fuckin’ day, sweetheart.”

Your heart did this weird, fluttery skip in your chest.

“I used to think I wasn’t allowed to want shit like that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Didn’t think I deserved it. Not with my past. Not with the way I used to treat women.” He paused, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But then you happened. And now I can’t not think about it.”

You turned in his arms again, cradling his face in your hands. “You’re not that guy anymore, Eddie.”

“I know.” His smile was soft but sure. “You’re the reason.”

You kissed him again, deep and slow, like you were trying to write your future into the shape of his mouth. His hands gripped your waist like he needed to hold onto you just to stay afloat.

When you pulled back, grinning, you said, “Alright. We’ll get a bigger house. With the dishwasher and the big yard and the comically oversized bed. But do not bring roses into the garage, Edward. I thought that was your sacred space.”

He blinked innocently, then shrugged with zero shame. “It’s also where I plan to bend my future wife over the workbench someday sooo…”

You burst out laughing, full-body shaking giggles echoing through the bathroom, while he just beamed at you like he’d just won the lottery.

“No shame. None whatsoever,” you wheezed.

“None,” he confirmed proudly. “I am a man with a vision. A rose-petal-covered, wrench-clinking, workbench-bendin’ vision.”

Your laughter rang through the candlelit room, and he held you tighter, soaking it all in like the sound was his favorite song. And perhaps it was.

His mouth pressed to your temple, your breath soft and sweet against his chest, your engagement ring catching the flicker of the candlelight as you rested your hand over his heart.

And beneath the surface of it all, the water, the skin, the laughter… it was there, love. Loud. Unapologetic. Theirs.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! @justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee, @micheledawn1975, @fckyeahlames, @cantstandya2000, @totallysocially, @exasperatedsighohmy, @marianaissocool, @boggerslide, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @n3lly-h3artz, @comeonatmebruh, @goingxsteddie, @msmimiandrew, @cpnsteverogers, @quinnophile, @exploding-bonbon, @hiscrimsonangel

Masterlist

[officialaemondtargaryen]

is it casual now?

Prompt: You and Eddie totally aren't dating, right?

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader, brief mentions of Steve Harrington x Reader.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Author’s Note: Happy birthday @felteppsters

Playlist: Casual by Chappell Roan

Warnings: Smut & fluff.

If you had a dollar for every time someone asked if you and The Freak were dating, you'd have made four dollars this week alone.

And it's only Tuesday.

You didn't go out of your way to spend time with Eddie Munson, and he never once asked if you wanted to hang out outside of school, but somehow you always managed to find yourself getting fingered in the back of his van in the parking lot during study hall. And he was known to drop a note in your locker on occasion asking you to meet him in that one bathroom that no one ever used for a quickie during lunch.

But that was neither here nor there.

The point was that people were beginning to notice.

It wasn't a bad thing. It's not like dating Eddie would ruin your reputation- despite what some people would say. It was just that when people asked if you and Eddie were dating, you didn't know how to answer because you, yourself, were not exactly sure what that answer was.

So you just said no, and you probably said it a little too defensively.

Does hooking up occasionally count as dating? No. In order to be dating someone you had to at least go out on an actual date, right? The night he took you to his trailer to 'fuck you in a real bed' and ordered pizza delivery didn't count, either, no matter how long you cuddled with him afterwards.

"I heard a rumor," it was Robin. She fell in step with you as you both exited fourth-period Algebra and headed toward the cafeteria. "And I just need a little bit of clarification, so forgive me if what I'm about to ask is-"

"I swear to God, Robin, if you're about to ask me if I'm dating Eddie Munson," you held up your hand and cut her off, stopping short in the middle of the hallway; your boots scuffing the speckled white tile floor, causing a slight traffic jam of bodies.

"What!?" She gasped. Either she was a really great actress or she genuinely hadn't heard. "There's a rumor going around that you're dating Eddie Munson?"

"No?" you deflected and picked up the pace. "What did you hear?"

"That you're dating Eddie Munson." With that, your face fell and she pulled her lips between her teeth to keep herself from laughing. "Well, is it true? Because Maria Fuentes heard from Charlie Dawson that Tina saw you guys in the parking lot last Friday and she did not hold back on the details."

"First of all," you said stopping at your locker. "I feel violated."

"Well, you were, you know-" Robin held up her fingers and made a lewd gesture causing you to cringe.

"Second of all-" You began again, only to be cut off by a folded piece of paper falling from your locker to the floor as you opened the flimsy, metal door. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Robin quickly bent down and snatched the note from under you before you had the chance.

"You were saying?" She asked, a playful smirk pulling at her lips as she dodged every one of your attempts to take the note back from her. "Meet me. You know where. Signed, E.M." She read aloud. "Oh, look, there's even a little heart. That is so cute!"

"Second of all," you repeated after you had snatched the crumpled paper from her hands. "We are not dating."

Eddie's lips were on yours the moment the bathroom door closed behind you; before you were even able to flip the lock. You hadn't seen him since last Friday, and you could easily tell that he had gotten needy over the weekend. You wanted to enjoy the moment, but all that you could think about was this rumor.

He took a few steps forwards, pushing you back to the double sink until you were sitting on the counter; pushing himself between your legs, his hands falling to your sides, fingertips digging into your flesh. His lips were everywhere, biting and sucking hungrily as he squeezed every inch of your body he could get his hands on.

You placed your palm firmly on his chest and lightly pushed him away from you. He took a step back and you took in his appearance; tight denim jeans, a flannel wrapped around his hips, t-shirt just slightly messy enough to reveal a scruffy happy trail below his navel. His jeans were especially tight in the crotch, and his eyes were dark with desperation as he returned your gaze. He ducked his head to meet your lips once again, but you turned your head and ensured his lips fell to your cheek instead.

"Something's definitely up with you," he said softly as he placed another kiss on your temple.

He looked so good and made you feel so good, you just wanted to pull him back down to you and fuck him in this bathroom for the umpteenth time, but you couldn't. He stepped back and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket; looking so cool as he placed one between his lips and took a long drag, sending smoke billowing around the tiny room.

"You haven't heard?" You asked. He shrugged. "Someone saw us Friday in your van and now the entire school thinks we're dating."

"Oh," he let our a sarcastic chuckle. "And that's a problem for you, I guess? Can't be seen with the freak, right?"

"No," you rolled your eyes at the fact that he would even suggest that. "I just didn't know if- are we?"

He shrugs again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I thought it was just casual."

"Casual?" You ask, and he nods. "Okay, well, I have to go. My next class is all the way on the other side of the building and I don't want to be late."

He can tell by your tone that you're upset.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, making one last attempt to make you stay as you pick up your book bag from the floor.

"Nothing."

"You're pissed," he actually reached for you this time, but you shrugged him off.

"No," you replied. "I'm just-" you paused for a moment looking for the right words. "I'm casual." He winced. "Have a good day, Eddie."

You wanted to slam the door in his face, but it wasn't that type of door, so you opted for storming off loudly. As you rounded the corner you knocked shoulders with some girl from the Cheerleading squad who yelled at you to watch where you were going, but you didn't care to respond. Your legs were carrying you as quickly as they could without breaking into a full sprint down the halls of Hawkins High.

It wasn't a lie when you stated that your next class was on the other side of the school. You were sweating by the time you reached your desk. Robin had gotten there first, slumped back in her assigned seat with a smirk on her face as you sat down, trying to catch your breath.

"Long commute?" She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Shut the hell up, Buckley." You snapped.

"Uh oh," she held her hands up in defense. "Must be some trouble in paradise."

"I told you earlier, Eddie and I are not dating."

"Roger that."

The last bell couldn't come soon enough. All that you wanted to do was get home and get into bed- and preferably cry into a bowl of ice cream. You'd have never imagined yourself crying over the likes of Eddie Munson, but the thought of losing whatever it was that you had with him was upsetting.

He was your friend, after all. You had a lot in common with him. He could make you laugh and there was no shortage of conversation when you were around him. He was always getting shit from his friends, but you loved the fact that he never shut the hell up. And when there wasn't a conversation to be had, there was always music; whether it was his long list of cassette tapes or him strumming away on his guitar, there was never a dull moment.

And here you were ruining it over a label.

Robin held the door open for you as you both stepped out into the warm summer weather. Waves of students began lining up in the parking lot for their respective busses, but you typically walked home when the weather was nice.

"So since you're not dating Eddie Munson," Robin began and you couldn't help but roll your eyes so hard that it almost gave you a headache. "I was wondering if you might want to go on a double date with Vickie and myself?"

"A double date typically involves two couples."

"Right, you're absolutely right." Robin was stuttering. "I have this friend and he is also single. Problem solved."

"Steve?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Wh- Why?"

"Because I have nothing in common with Steve and Steve is a prick," you replied bluntly.

Robin rolled her eyes. "He's actually not, like, at all. Besides, I talk about you all the time to him and he said that he would really like to meet you."

"He must have forgotten that he spent the majority of my freshman and sophomore year bullying me with Tommy H and Carole," you muttered under your breath.

Your friend reached out and grabbed you by the shoulder, stopping you in place and spinning you around to face her. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked her in the eye.

"That was a long time ago. I wasn't a huge fan of him when I first met him, either." She gave you a lopsided smile and you found her attempts to win her friend a date with you amusing. "I promise you that it's worth a shot. So, if you change your mind, we're going roller skating on Saturday night."

"You rollerskating?" You laughed and heard a car honk a few times as it pulled up.

"You're so funny!" She stated sarcastically.

Steve gave you a derpy smile as he rolled the passenger side window down. He was wearing his Family Video vest. "Good afternoon, ladies." He called out smoothly, you returned with a small wave.

"Sleep on it?" Robin asked as she opened the door to Steve's car.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes. "I'll think about it."

Robin smiled as she ducked into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Saturday came sooner than expected, and you had to admit that you were nervous. If someone had told you a year ago that you'd be going on a date with Steve Harrington, you'd probably punch them in the throat. Hell, if someone told you that a week ago, you'd still be swinging.

You had avoided Eddie at all costs throughout the rest of the week. Though, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't a little disappointed there were no notes left in your locker, or that he didn't find some way to talk to you after you left him standing in that bathroom Tuesday afternoon. You even waited up some nights hoping for a phone call or a pebble on the window, but none came.

It took over an hour and half to pick an outfit. Almost every article of clothing you owned was crumpled on the floor or tossed on the bed as you tried on a dozen different outfit combinations. It was the roller rink, so you wanted to be comfortable, but it was technically a date, so you also wanted to at least seem like you tried. Finally, as the clock ticked closer to seven, you decided on jeans, an off-shoulder top, and your Converse. You really didn't care to impress Steve Harrington; you didn't care in freshman and sophomore year and you certainly didn't now.

"I thought you said you had a date," your mother mentioned as you stepped into the living room. She was on the couch watching Who's The Boss, a jar of mixed nuts in her lap.

"I am," you replied as you shrugged into your denim jacket. She looked you up and down and you rolled your eyes. "We're going rollerskating; comfort was the priority!"

The distant sound of a car horn honking interrupted the conversation, prompting you to glance out the front door. Steve, acting as the evening's chauffeur, awaited with Robin and Vickie in the backseat.

"Don't be out too late," your mother muttered between mouthfuls of peanuts. "But enjoy yourself."

As the heavy glass door swung open, a wave of familiar sounds and vibrant colors enveloped your senses. The Rollerdome was typically busy on a Saturday night, but tonight it seemed everyone in Hawkins had the same idea to go skating. The neon lights that adorned the rink's interior created a kaleidoscope of vivid hues; fluorescent pinks, electric blues, and neon greens adorned the walls, blending with the glow of disco balls suspended from the ceiling. Upbeat pop music and the thud of roller skates on the smooth, wooden floors flooded your ears as Robin and Steve bickered over which table to claim for the evening.

"I vote this one," Robin declared with unwavering confidence, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "That way, we've got front-row seats to all the wipeouts!"

"That is the exact reason why no one sits at this table, Robin," Steve countered with exasperation. "Everyone knows that the floor is slick there and when someone takes a spill, it's usually right into the table." He pauses before looking at you. "Bye-bye chili dogs."

You can't help but suppress a small smile, "I think it's perfect. If there's a chance one of those uppity assholes comes flying face first into our table, it'll be the highlight of my entire year."

"Can't argue with that logic," Steve added quickly. "Good choice, Robin."

She rolled her eyes and dragged Vickie off towards the rental counter. You casually tossed your bag on the top of the table; a clear marker that it was claimed. Steve removed his jacket and placed it next to your bag before running a hand through his thick, dark hair. It was clear that he was nervous as his eyes darted around the roller rink. He definitely didn't give off the same 'King Steve' aura that you remembered so well.

Maybe you'd give him a chance.

Just kidding.

You turned on your heel and walked off towards the snack bar, drawn in by the delicious aroma of extra cheese pizza and buttered popcorn, leaving Steve scrambling to catch up with your determined stride. Robin wanted a pretzel and a Coke slushy while Vickie had asked for cheese fries and an orange soda. You wanted nachos but agreed when Steve ordered to split a pizza, doing his best to impress you as he paid for everyone, but instead, all he got out of you was a slight eye roll. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Vickie lead a wobbly Robin out onto the rink. A chuckle escaped your lips as you witnessed their valiant attempts to navigate the rink without falling prey to the more seasoned skaters.

"So what are you into?" Steve asked as he filled up his drink at the fountain machine. "What do you like?"

"Uh," you weren't really sure what to say. You still couldn't really get past the fact that Steve Harrington was trying to have a conversation with you. "I like music."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I like music."

"Cool."

"This is a good song," he replied and pointed awkwardly to the overhead speakers while Another One Bites The Dust by Queen played loudly.

You couldn't help but think of the irony and did your best to suppress a laugh before Steve got the impression that you thought he was funny. Oh, how this date was failing epically; which you were already anticipating, so at least you hadn't gotten your hopes up about it. Steve was almost trying too hard to force a spark between the two of you, but without Robin around- which was often because she was too busy flailing about on her skates while Vickie tried her hardest to keep her from falling- it was absolutely boring.

At least the two of them seemed to be having a good time.

As the night continued on, you found yourself gradually shedding the initial reserve that had clung to you like a second skin. The pulsating rhythm of the music, the laughter of your friends, and the infectious joy of gliding across the smooth floor started to work its magic. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Steve, Vickie, and Robin circled the rink alongside you, sharing jokes and banter.

"I need something to drink!" You yelled over the music at your friends before carefully exiting the floor onto the carpet.

Steve exited with you, gliding up to the table with ease; moving around you to the music, dancing on his skates. The hesitant glances you'd given him earlier transformed into playful exchanges, and you couldn't help but admit that his efforts to charm you had slowly but surely begun to work.

As Robin and Vickie continued to skate around the rink, something caught your eyes in the corner; a familiar, curly head of brown hair in the back towards the arcade. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his brown eyes pinned to you as his friends huddled around one of the pinball machines.

You smirked softly as the music changed. In the background you could hear Steve talking, but you were too busy having a staring contest with Eddie from across the room.

"So what d'ya say?" Steve asked.

"What?" You asked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Eddie.

"It's a slow song," he mentioned. You could see a blush creeping to his cheeks. "Did you want to couple's skate?"

You agreed, allowing Steve to take your hand and lead you out onto the rink. It was wrong of you to use Steve in the way that you were, especially since you were just starting to like him. But the satisfaction that you felt seeing Eddie roll his eyes as you and your date skated by was too good to pass up. And yes, you faked the giggles and latched on to Steve's arm a little more with each time you passed Eddie, really twisting that knife as much as you could.

But hey, it was just "casual" right?

As the song came to a close and Steve led you by the hand back to your table. You couldn't help yourself but to glance back to the corner of the rink towards the arcade, only to see Eddie push himself off of the wall and stomp off towards the exit.

"I'll be right back," you called over to Steve as the song ended. "I need to get some fresh air."

"I'll come with!" Steve offered but you placed a hand on his arm to stop him before he could unlace his skates.

"I'll be okay," you assured him with a sweet smile. "I'll be right back."

Hurriedly, you unlaced your skates and shoved your feet into your worn-down tennis shoes before chasing after Eddie. The summer air was still very humid as you stepped out of the cool air conditioning and into the parking lot. The sunset was barely lingering on the horizon and the sky was a mixture of periwinkle and orange. To your right, you could see Eddie walking away from you and towards his van.

"Hey!" You called to him. He turned around to see it was you and threw his head back dramatically before turning back to his van. "What is your problem?"

"Steve Harrington, really?" He spat, turning to you once again.

"Oh, come off it!" You replied, closing the gap between you. "Jealousy does not suit you, babe."

"Steve fucking Harrington?" He asked again. "I mean what do you even talk about with that guy? Different variations of the color beige?"

"At least he can stand to be seen with me in public!"

You were standing toe-to-toe with him now, chests heaving. His eyes squinted as he stared down at you.

"You want to be seen in public?" He asked. "Careful what you ask for, princess."

Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, maneuvering you to his van; walking you backward until your back was pressed up against the side door. "Hopefully Harrington will wander out here looking for you." He reached a hand behind you, swinging the door open, and pushed you in. "He gives me the impression of someone who likes to watch."

Eddie crawled into the van after you, leaving the door open, not caring who saw or heard. His lips were on yours in an instant. You moaned as he ducked his head into your neck, working your nerves as he popped the button on your jeans. He didn't even care to pull them all the way off, or your shoes for that matter. As soon as he had pulled your pants down far enough to expose your pussy to him, he held your legs over his head and began thumbing your clit; spreading a slick coat of wetness along your swollen lips. He lifted you up, throwing your legs over his shoulder as his tongue hungrily delved into your core.

You gasped in surprise, hands flying to his hair, wrapping around the thick of his roots. You could hear him fumbling with his belt buckle as his tongue worked your dripping folds. Once he had freed his girthy cock, he lowered you down, still holding your legs over his shoulders with his arms now snaked around your thighs as he lined himself up with your core.

Without warning, he shoved his cock into the deepest part of you, feeling you tighten and loosen around his length. You moaned loudly, forgetting that the side door to his van was still wide open.

"Should I send you back to King Steve filled with my cum?" He grunted as he thrusted against you. "Let him hold your hand as you feel me dripping into those cute, little panties?"

Your eyes rolled back as he continued to pump into you.

"Look at you," he whimpered, so close already to finding his own release. He dragged his thumb across your bottom lip and you took his digit into you mouth. "Fuck!"

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls as he filled you with warm ribbons of his cum. Eddie crashed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he tried to catch his breath. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing him off of you with a sigh. You were already pulling your jeans up over your hips and fixing your shirt.

"What is it now?" He asked.

"It's nothing, Eddie." You replied.

"Oh, it's something."

You said nothing and stood up out of his van. Half of you wanted to just walk away and leave him there, like you had on Tuesday, but you couldn't do that again. You were miserable after the first time you did that- so miserable that you agreed to go on a date with Steve Harrington, of all people. This time you turned to him, looking him dead in the eye as you tried to find the right words.

"I'm not just some easy girl, Eddie." You spat at him. "I allowed you to fuck me in the parking lot, and in the bathroom, and in the auditorium that one time because I like you. I guess- I just thought that you liked me, too. I thought I was more than just some girl that you go down on in the passenger seat of your van, but I was wrong."

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held your hand up to stop him, wanting to get it all out.

"You just want sex," you continued. "You don't want to date me, you don't want me to be your girlfriend, you just want something casual, and I'm not that."

"What are you, then?" He asked.

"Leaving."

He said nothing as he watched you turn away, leaving him completely dumbfounded. For once, you felt like you had the upper-hand in this game the two of you had been playing for months now.

The walk from Eddie's van to the front doors of the Rollerdome felt like miles as the gravel of the pavement crackled beneath your feet with each step. You half expected him to run after you, take you in his arms, and confess his love for you, but you were met with nothing but silence. With a final glance over your shoulder, you reentered the roller rink, leaving Eddie to grapple with the unspoken complexities that lingered in the warm, Summer air.

The electric energy of the rink greeted you, once again; a stark contrast to the mood you had created in the parking lot. You didn't want to be here any longer and decided upon re-entry that you were just going to go home. Robin, Vickie, and Steve were all huddled around the table as another slow ballad played loudly through the speakers.

"There you are!" Robin greeted with a lukewarm slice of pizza in her hand. She took immediate notice of your changed demeanor and asked, "is everything okay?"

"No," you replied quickly as you grabbed your jacket. "I think I am just going to go home."

"Home?" Robin asked. "Now?" She stood up and pulled you over to the side away from Steve and Vickie. "Does this have anything to do with Eddie? I saw you running out after him earlier."

"Just forget it, Robin, okay?" You sighed as you turned towards her. You looked over her shoulder to see Steve and Vickie watching you. You lowered your voice, "It's over, okay? Yes, I'm upset about it and I hate that I'm upset about it. I wasn't expecting to actually like him."

Robin sighed, "I didn't realize it was like that, I'm sorry."

You shrug your shoulders and shove your hands in your jacket pockets. "It's fine, I'll get over it."

She gave you a half smile, "can we at least give you a ride. I'm sure Steve won't mind driving."

"I'm just going to walk," you muttered. "It's not far."

"Alright, catch you on Monday! Last week of senior year!" She exclaimed and raised her hands, mimicking pompoms for added flair. She outstretched her arms and wrapped them around you and provided a tight squeeze.

"Can't wait," you groaned unenthusiastically.

Monday came and went and before you knew it, the final bell of Friday rang throughout those hideous green and gold hallways as a sea of graduates congregated in the gym; tossing their shimmering green caps into the air, signaling the beginning of the rest of your lives. In one hand, your diploma and in the other, your yearbook filled with well-wishes and promises to keep in touch-- most of which you hoped would forever be unkept.

Robin found you outside in the courtyard after she had managed to escape her parents.

"Here's to the first summer of the rest of our lives," she said breathlessly. "Steve and I are going to the mall if you want to come, spend some of this graduation cash from my grandparents."

"I'm okay," you smiled at her. "Raincheck?"

"If you say so," she rolled her eyes. "Where are your folks?"

"My dad had a little too many of those little sandwiches they were giving out," you made a face. "Mom had to take him home early."

"I'm sure my parents could give you a ride home, if you wanted," she said with a soft smile.

Over her shoulder you watched as Eddie, still draped in his cap and gown, rushed off towards the back of the parking lot. "That's okay, I have a ride," you replied with a smirk.

You gave her a hug and slipped away; turning on your heel and escaping the crowd through the parking lot. As the cars grew thin, you noticed a familiar white van in the back, parked in its usual spot. The side door was open and Eddie was sitting in the back; a cigarette in between his lips and his guitar in his lap. His diploma was tossed up on the dashboard, and his cap and gown were tossed in the passenger seat.

He strummed skillfully as you walked up the side of his van. His eyes were lulled shut and his head was titled back on the headrest. He hummed softly and your lips couldn't help turning into a smile. He was so undeniably perfect and he didn't even know it.

"Is that new?" You had been hanging out with Eddie long enough now to know his songs by heart. He always asked your opinion on his songwriting.

His eyes fluttered open, but his fingers continued strumming. You could see his gaze taking you in as you effortlessly leaned against the passenger door. He shrugged lazily and tilted his head back once again, staring up at the scuffed metal ceiling of his van.

"I was feeling inspired," he finally replied as he exhaled smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "It's about a terrible, evil temptress who collects the souls of the men of the realm." You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Until one day, she meets a kind and handsome young man who doesn't have a soul to give. So instead, he gives her his heart."

"Sounds a bit dramatic," you replied as you tried to hide the smile creeping to your lips, once more.

"I was thinking about the other night," his fingers stopped strumming as he reached up to pull the cigarette from his lips. He exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, see," he took another drag from his smoke. "I do like you and I do want you to be my girlfriend, always have."

You threw up your hands, "It's hard for me to believe that, Eddie! We fuck nearly every day but you can't take me out on one date? How am I supposed to believe that you want me to be your girlfriend if you can't even respect me enough to take me out!?"

"We have too gone on dates! I bought you pizza that one time!" He exclaimed as he set his guitar back down in the case and snapped it shut. "And we watched your favorite movie!"

"We watched Troll," you deadpanned.

"Yeah, we did," he replied as he stood up out of the van. He towered over you as he stood up straight. "And after it was over you said that it was your new favorite movie."

"I was being SARCASTIC!"

"God damnit!" He spat right back.

"You took me back to your trailer because you were tired of fucking me in this van!" His jaw dropped at the accusation. "And the only reason you ordered pizza was because there was nothing else to eat and you struggle to even microwave a frozen TV dinner!"

His hand flew over his chest as he gasped. "You really are an evil and terrible temptress! Your words are venomous!"

You sighed, "Tell me honestly... is there something wrong with me?"

"You think there's something wrong with you?" Eddie asks, a small laugh escaping his perfect lips. He shakes his head and moves his hands up your arms to your shoulders, looking at your straight on. "Sweetheart, you're perfect."

A blush creeps to your cheeks and you can practically feel yourself melting in his hands.

"You're perfect, like, way too good for me," he continued, a bashful grin playing on his lips. "I should've said it before, a million times."

"You think?" You asked.

"Let's just start over, okay?" He pleaded and jutted his hand out to you as if he was asking for a handshake. "Hi, I'm Eddie. Will you be my girlfriend?"

You narrowed your eyes as you glanced down at his hand, pursing your lips in a futile attempt to suppress a smile. Fuck, you hated how goddamn charming he was. Giving up fully to him, you accepted his hand. Though, before you could utter a single word, he pulled you in for a lingering kiss that left you breathless.

"Say yes," he whispered as he pulled away, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Yes," you whispered as you look up into his dark brown eyes.

[secretlovezz]

----------♡

Eddie is always touching you, he couldn't help it. The moment he became your boyfriend he made sure his hands never left you.

Finger laced into the belt loop of your jeans pulling your back to his chest so that he can rest his hands against the groove of your waist -maybe even slide them underneath the soft fabric of his your shirt so he can feel the heat of your skin against his palms- while waiting in line at the grocery store; he rest his chin on the top of your head letting the smell of your shampoo make his head spin with thoughts of only you. "You smell nice."

Man-spreading so that his knee would press into yours while the two of you hang out with friends, the fabric of his ripped jeans rubs your knee while he wraps his arm around your shoulders pulling your body closer to him because "You're too far away."

Very rarely do you allow him to shower with you because when he does he's too busy pressing himself against you, arms wrapped tightly around your torso or hands greedily pawing at your hips, instead of washing his messy mane of hair like you told him to. No matter the amount you scolded him in how often he got distracted or how he distracted you it went in one ear and out the other. "You shouldn't look so pretty then- It makes it hard to focus."

Cooking dinner with him home was a chore. He drapes himself along your back letting his body weight drop onto you, forcing you to hold him up while you mix something in a pot. When you grumble in annoyance he just smiles against your neck pursing his lips every once in a while to place loving kisses against your warm skin, enjoying the sound of your voice, in which he deemed it angelic, even as you chastise him again.

He just can't help how much he absolutely adores you, sometimes still in disbelief that someone as beautiful as you, inside and out, wanted to be his girlfriend and he knows that, even though you complain and nag at him, you love that he can't help wanting to touch you. He catches the small grin that etches itself across your face when he holds you in the shower or when you cook and he notices the way you hook your pinkie finger into the belt loop of his jeans as he snakes his arms around you in stores or when your hanging out with friends.

So, he'll always make sure his hands are on you, because he loves the way you grumble all without telling him to stop.

[usedtobecooler]

sexual content minors dni.

the thought of eddie munson just being so desperate and aching in the middle of the night that he sleepily, desperately ruts up against the curve of your ass, tip leaking steadily all over the silk of your sleep shorts.

it’s. a thing. always has been a thing. your shorts meant the green light for him to grind and slide up against you in a feverish heat, moonlight peaking through the gap in the curtains and casting the hasty motions in your shadows.

you’re barely awake, only just rousing enough to get with the program and wiggle up against him, make it known he’s okay to keep going even as you bury your face into the pillow sleepily. you roll your hips, marvelling in the way his length kicks up at the movement.

he’s plastered right up against you from chest to thighs, moaning high pitched and desperate into your ear, mouthing at your neck as he ruts a little quicker. until he slides against you differently, askew enough to have his entire shaft slipping between the apex of your thighs, nestled in the tight heat of your sweaty skin, the curve of his tip slipping over your clit through a thin layer of satin.

“please, please baby, lemme stay here. can i?” he begs, peppering kisses against your shoulder and you can’t help but nod when he slides between your thighs again and nudges that bundle once more.

it’s hot, sweaty, the steady stream of pre leaking from his flushed red tip more than enough to slick up the way as he thrusts inside your thighs. you moan, can’t help yourself as the prickle of heat and want shoots up your spine and buries deep. you never expected it to feel so good, to keep you stimulated as much as it did him.

“so fucking good, sweetheart. even your thighs fuck me up, so tight.” eddie’s so stuck to your back he’s practically moulding into you, the bite of his fingertips teetering on painful in the dip of your waist as he uses his grip for leverage to keep thrusting. his curls stuck to your sweaty skin, kisses turning to biting and sucking as he teeters close.

you can’t help the noises that fall from your own lips, needy and hungry for it. it feels good. so good. to feel how desperate he is to get off, listen to how pathetic he sounds being brought to the edge by nothing more than the squeeze of your thighs and the roll of your hips. he knew how to make your head big, so in love with you and turned on by your body that he’d fuck any part you were willing to offer up.

it’s all too much, even with your eyes shut. so when you open them and look down, watching the head of his cock sliding in and out of your thighs and covering you in creamy spatters, it’s too much. your body coils tight like a spring and you’re reaching your own peak before he reaches his, clamping your thighs even tighter with the sheer force of it.

“holy shit, did you—? oh god, fuck it’s so wet, ngh,” eddie thrusts behind you sporadically, sucking right on the tip of your shoulder as he cums in between your thighs, thick spurts soothing the slight sting of your skin, painting you in a gorgeous pearlescent mess.

[lostalioth]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭

→ premise: eddie wasn’t convinced you were as innocent as you acted. his pervy thoughts of you were often guided by all the little dirty things you did. he knew he shouldn’t think that way you were his friend after all but you had to know what you were doing to him right?

→ pairing: perv!bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, 2.1k words, corruption kink, dacryphilia, frontagge? [eddie rubs his dick against her til he cums?] unprotected penetration, small bit of degrading language [whore], nicknames [baby, pretty girl, sweets, pretty best friend], reader is described to wear eddies shirt and pink/girly clothing a bit, not proofread

→ a/n: kinktober 12

Eddie was a touchy guy, a very touchy best friend in fact. He seemed to lack any awareness of personal space when it came to you.

Having you sit in his lap during movie nights whether it's just the two of you or if Robin or Steve join in. Laying his head in your lap while you play with his hair and his hands palm at your thighs tracing shapes on them. Draping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you to his side when you're in the middle of a conversation with someone or leaning his body weight against you. Now to you and your naive mind, you found all this and everything else he may do as innocent, you didn't understand why everyone new you met assumed the two of you were dating.

Except for Eddie everything he did, he had a little pervy underlying reason to it. Leaning on you and pulling your body against his to feel your soft skin on his and subconsciously claiming you as his. Sitting you in his lap to feel the heat radiating from your pussy on his cock even through multiple layers of fabric. Laying his head on your lap and rubbing on your thighs Imagining his head is buried between them instead.

Constantly he came up with any excuse he could to have his hands on you, to have your body against his, even rub up against you when given the chance when he’d scoot behind you to get somewhere even if there was a clearer path to his destination. Rubbing his bulge lightly against your ass when he’d brush by. To him there was no way you weren’t aware of his intentions when he did these things and all the little pervy moves he made. Every dirty thought he had or thing he did was guided by the seemingly not so innocent things you would do.

Though you weren’t actually aware of just what the things you'd do, did to poor ole’ Eddie. Batting your eyelashes at him when you wanted to be the one to pick the movie, pressing your body against him of your own accord when a scary part came on during one of his movie picks. He even swears though he isn’t 100% sure it wasn't a very vivid dream that you were grinding your ass against him for a second one time you were sitting in his lap.

It was currently one of those frequent movie nights and Eddie was painfully hard, his cock has been aching the moment he walked inside your house. Part of it sure was that he was just excited to have quality time with his pretty little best friend but then when he came in and saw the state you were in he was a goner. You were more comfortable around Eddie than anyone and you had opted to be cozy so all you had on was a long t-shirt and frilly pink socks, no pants on. Being the perv he was and with the fact he couldn't tell exactly he was secretly wishing you didn't have any panties on either.

Eddie got to pick the movie and it was one he’d seen a million times over so it didn't matter that he couldn't bring himself to pay attention. His eyes glued to you, your thighs exposed almost more than they are when you wear your tiny lacey skirts that also almost kill Eddie. Any last drop of reserve or self-control he had was slowly draining away from his body.

If he thought too hard about everything he felt like a piece of shit bestfriend that all he could think of during movie nights anymore was bending you over your living room couch and claiming your pussy as his. Making you his as you whine and moan that it's too much to take and he tells you what a good girl you’re being. Expect there was a small denranged part of him that desperatly wanted to corrupt your sweet naive mind until you’re the one who can only think about him fucking you, making you just as much of a pervert as he was.

Far too lost in own dirty thoughts he fails to notice that the movie has now ended, meaning it was your turn to pick and he should probably stop staring at your body.

“That was a good movie. Ed's wasn't as scary of a movie as you usually pick” your sweet voice snaps him out of his trance and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from your thighs crossed over one another.

“Oh uh yeah, figured I’d pick a calmer one this time for you sweets” he explains, lightly coughing as he squeezed the pillow that's been covering his lap this whole time, a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes forms on his face as he finally turns his attention to your face. Though switching his focus fails to dull the throbbing in his stiff cock, if it goes on any longer there's definitely going to be a wet spot in his boxers. You smile back at him before getting up from the couch, running over to the kitchen and putting the empty popcorn bowl in the sink. He watches as you walk away, a small groan leaving his lips, it didn't help that the shirt you wore was one of his old hellfire shirt’s. You in his clothes always made his heart ache just as much as his dick, you often stole his shirts or hoodies which didn't help people thinking you were dating and Eddie secretly loved that.

With a bounce in your step you make your way back over to the couch, standing more in front of Eddie as you do. Bending at the waist you lean over to pick the remote up off the oddly low coffee table, your shirt riding up as you do. Giving him an agonizingly perfect view of your ass and the mound of your pussy in your little pink panties. “Oh fuck..” he groans out, his knuckles turning white from how hard he is gripping the pillow infront of him. You turn around facing him now as you lean back up, having heard Eddie mumble out something. “What’d you say Ed’s??” You question with a cute look of confusion on your face.

His last ounce of composure and restraint flies out the window as he throws the pillow off his lap and grabs ahold of your hips pulling you into his lap.

“You fucking feel that pretty girl? That’s what you do to me, fuckin’ killing me sweets” he groans out, his bulge pressed right against your cunt, his jeans and your thin panties do nothing to stop him from feeling the heat settling in your core. you gasp out dropping the remote onto the cushion besides you as you feel just how hard he is. The cold metal of his rings sends a shiver down your spine when his hands push up at your shirt, bunching it up as they go. “But- I didn't do anything, or- I didn't mean to anyway Ed’s” you manage to stutter out, taken aback by both his abruptness and how good his cock feels against you even confined in denim. Lifting you up before letting go of your hips for a second so you're hovering over him, he unbuckles his belt and button to his jeans before tugging them down his thighs. “Ed’s I-I dont think best friends do this…” you whine out yet don't make any move to stop him as he grabs ahold of your hips again, planting your pussy right on his cock again with only thin underwear separating you now. You may be naive and innocent but you weren't a virgin you were well aware of what he was doing.

“it’s okay baby, just be my pretty little best friend and let me play with you okay, my cocks aching for ya’ yeah?” His tone is soft and slurred, his head going hazy in desire for you and the fact you were letting him go this far. “Mhmm~ okay i can do that” you whine out, your hips having a mind of their own squirming and grinding against him as his hands rub down your thighs.

“Atta girl sweets, s’good to me, always so sweet on me” he groans out as his fingers inch closer and closer to your aching pussy. Your slick has managed to begin soaking your panties, while Eddie's tip leaks precum forming a matching wet spot on his boxers. Tugging your panties to the side he runs his middle and ring finger through your slick folds, running over your clit that jumps at the small bit of attention. Your breath catches in your lungs as your eyes are glued to where your best friend's hands are playing with your leaking pussy. “Eddie.. it feels s’good” you whine out your hips bucking at his touch every time his fingers brush over your bundle of nerves.

“Look at you pretty girl, so fucking wet f’me like a little fucking whore” he groans out as he pushes down at his boxers, you lift your hips to help subconsciously. He pushes them down only enough to let his cock spring free, his cock thick, tip reddened and as veins run along the underside of his shaft. Your eyes are entranced by the sight, your mouth watering and your hole clenching around nothing, who knew your best friend had such a pretty cock.

Grabbing onto the base of his cock he angles it to nudge open your slit and run his tip through your soaked folds, grinding his shaft against your pussy. “Ahh~ pleasee Ed’s need you inside” you whine out, already getting overwhelmed, his cock rubbing against your bundle of nerves and tip just barely pushing at your hole before slipping out. The ongoing teasing and desire for him to push inside you crowd your head making it go fuzzy. “Nooo not yet baby, not till you're begging for it, gotta corrupt my sweet innocent little best friend til shes a cock hungry whore begging for me to fuck her” he chuckled darkly, even though he was more desperate than you to finally push into the warm heat of your cunt he was gonna make you beg for it.

Tears well up in your eyes threatening to fall as you buck against him in response to his hips grinding against your pussy. “Aww ya’ gonna cry sweets? Go on cry baby, beg for it” he groans out, he knew it was sick but as your tears fall down your cheeks he can feel his balls tighten, heavy and full of cum that's almost ready to burst. Your slick and his precum mix together to soak your panties, the thin fabric turning see through as he hooks it over his cock to keep it pressed between your folds.

“Fuck im gonna cum pretty girl, should cum in these fuckin’ flimsy panties and ruin em’ then stuff them in your mouth as i stuff this pussy” he growls out, his words making your pussy throbbing and your head spin, your head nodding frantically desperate for him to do exactly that. “Yeah baby? Want me to do that?” He taunts, a lopsided smirk glued to his lips as he leans in closer, forehead pressed against yours while your tears continue to fall down your cheeks, your eyes turning red and puffy the longer you cry out in pleasure.

“Please Ed’s yes!~ please need you to cum and i need you to fuck me please” you moan out, a deep stasifaction settled in eddie at your plea and he surges forward to press his lips to yours muffling your whines. Your thighs burning from grinding desperately against him, the last string of Eddie's snaps just as you dig your nails into his biceps and cry out his name into the heated frantic kiss. Hot ropes of cum spurt out and coat the inside of your panties and paint your puffy folds. Not stopping his thrusting Eddie grabs his cock that's still sandwiched under your now ruined panties and guides his still leaking tip to your entrance. Pulling away from your lips, he slaps his hand over your mouth just as he pushes inside you in one sharp hard thrust. A cry of pleasure and maybe some pain falls from your lips, along side a long line of curse muffled agianst his rough hand as he fucks up into the wet heat of your pussy that clenches down on him.

“My pretty bestfriend’s gonna be such a good fuckin’ cock drunk whore, all f’me now, all mine” all you can do in nod in respone, your eyes nearly rolling back in pleasure.

→ a/n: I rushed the end of this so i could get it out today and get back on track with kinktober lmao and somehow its still 2 thousand words and some change lmao but anyway enjoy loves give me feedback and tell me if something is misspelled this wasnt read over as im tired.

[spideyhexx]

1 am thoughts with kit;

nsfw

also inspired by some talks with @goosita <3

The entire build up to your orgasm, Eddie’s lips are at your ear, kissing and nipping at your skin, his breath hot. His hair tickles you, but your hands find purchase in it, playing with it just the way he likes.

The way that makes him hold your hips tighter and push his dick deeper into you as he slowly thrusts, muttering, “there you go, sweetheart, almost here yeah? Almost there, god you’re so…you’re so beautiful.”

You let out a more strained moan that you muffle by humming through it and he shushes you gently, “I know, gotta tell me, sweetheart, you’re there?”

With a nod and slight buck of your hips to his, you tell him, “yeah…right there, Eddie…just a little more.”

He bites back a groan of his own and picks up the pace, his little nips to your earlobe still so gentle, never truly biting down on you. The harshest thing you feel is his lips moving beneath your ear and sucking on the skin there because he knows that’s your spot.

“Always so pretty like this,” he says, smiling against your skin, helping you move your hips to meet his. His mattress is off slightly on his bed frame, and you can both hear the slight noise of it creaking on the floor but he distracts you from it quick, “oh there you go squeezing me, kills me, sweetheart,” and gives your hip an affectionate squeeze.

It makes you smile, and he doesn’t even need to lift his head to know that’s your reaction to his words. Eddie’s hand sneaks down to rub your clit, relishing in the way your body arches to him at the feeling. His calloused fingers rubbing deft circles nice and quick to time with his thrusts picking up, “come on, baby,” he whispers, “you’re so pretty when you come, lemme see it, just for me, c’mon.”

He has the right of mind to move his hand to your mouth when your orgasm washes over you, burying himself in you to help you ride it out as good as it can be before he pulls out. Eddie moves his hand from your mouth and you watch, panting as he jerks his cock twice before painting your stomach in his cum, a breathy sound leaving his lips, forehead to your chest.

You rake your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp in a soothing manner, focusing on his breaths against you.

“Babe. I think that’s a new record. Four minutes,” he mumbles, glancing at the clock near his bed. You scoff and hit his shoulder playfully, and he just shoots you a cute grin before moving down the bed.

“Eddie, no, im too sensitive,” you whine at him and he smiles even wider.

“While I love to taste you, that wasn’t my intention.”

Eddie flicks out his tongue to lick some of his cum off of your tummy. You don’t know whether to roll your eyes at it or moan. His eyes stay on you, big and dazed still from his orgasm, but also stuck on your beauty, not wanting to waste any second from looking away. The taste of himself isn’t something he cares or thinks about, only focused on the way you look at him, amused and still full of desire for him.

His tongue makes you ticklish the more he licks up his cum, and he knows it. “Eddie, I think you got it all,” and you flick his ear, to which he scoffs.

“No, I think I gotta keep licking, babe,” to which he purposely licks a stripe agaisnt your side where he knows you’re gonna get ticklish.

You squirm and chuckle, and it only makes him lick you again, his hands tight on your hips to keep you still. And his nose presses into your side, he stills like he’s done, but then he makes a growling noise, biting gently all over your skin from your one side to the other.

All the while, he can’t contain his smile over your laughs.

[darlingsfandom]

can you write a blurb about eddie being nervous to kiss you for the first time

Not proofread !

Eddie has faced far scarier things in his life than this moment. He’s had first kisses before but everyone says the one time on the slide when he was five doesn’t count but that story always made you giggle because imaging five year old Eddie with his missing teeth and probably uncontrolled curls blushing when a girl kissed his lips then yelled “ew” was funny and a little sad.

There was also the time when he was thirteen at a basement party playing spin the bottle and it landed on him. It wasn’t terrible but the young lady had braces and cut his lip a little so of course Eddie panicked when he tasted the little debacle of blood.

And yet here he stood feeling like he could pass out from the anxiety coursing in his veins. He survived the upside down, moving to Hawkins only to be claimed as a demon worshiper and starting over and those don’t compare to how he’s feeling now. Eddie is busy palming his thigh, sweating and trying to focus on the tv while you lay there so peacefully with a soft smile on your lips enjoying the movie.

“You okay Ed’s?” You asked making him startled.

“Me?”

“You’re the only Ed’s here.” A soft laugh left your mouth making him fall even harder before he took a deep breath and kissed you as you laughed. Both of you froze in the moment. Your eyes closed slowly leaning in to kiss him back. Eddie had a million thoughts running in his mind while his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

Eddie pulled away slowly and looked at you in a state of shock only to see the same expression on your face.

“What was that for?” You mumbled while sitting up straight.

“I.. uh wanted too, for a while actually.” Eddie’s cheeks were on fire as he rubbed the back of his neck only to be caught off guard.

“Do it again.” Your words struck him hard.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, couples are supposed to kiss.”

“Couple!” Eddie’s eyes turned into little hearts. For someone who seemed so scary to the outside world, he was truly a lover boy but only for you.

[ddejavvu]

Eddie Munson being totally in love with his best friend, then one morning after a night of drinking and pot, he wakes up with you tucked safely under his arms, in his bed... with no recollection of why you were there. The poor guys just really worried, because he doesn’t want the first.. something to have happened, and not even be able to remember it!

Eddie's initially surprised, but not panicked when he wakes up with a body beside his. He's the town freak, sure, but some chicks are into that, and this wouldn't be the first time he's woken up to feel skin-against-skin. But when he glances down and catches your face- your nose, your lips, your chin tucked into his chest, he blanches.

He's not particularly smooth, and certainly not good in a crisis. He doesn't think to gently ease you off of his chest or replace his arm with a pillow so that you don't notice you're being transferred- no, instead he darts out from beneath you, and your bleary eyes blink open in concern when you hit the mattress below.

"What- Eddie?" You ask, in your sweet voice, the one that Eddie notices is raspy, and if it's raspy for the reasons he thinks it's raspy he'll quit weed for good. And booze- he'll never black himself out again for as long as he lives if he'd missed a night of hearing that voice.

"I'm half naked." He notes, looking down at his bare, tattooed chest, "Are you wearing clothes?"

You nod, peering tentatively beneath the blankets to double check, "Yes? Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, we- I don't remember anything. And you're in my bed. And I'm shirtless. And I probably had so much last night."

"You did," You laugh, carefree and easy as you stretch out your sore muscles, "You don't remember anything because you were so far gone you tried lighting a pretzel stick. And I was in your bed because you made me watch a horror movie while we were high and I was too scared to be on the couch. And you always sleep shirtless."

All valid points. Eddie scratches lightly at his abdomen, "So you're saying we didn't- y'know? Do anything?"

"Relax. We both kept our pants on."

"Good." He nods, shoulders loosening from weight he hadn't realized was piled on them until it was gone, "I wouldn't have wanted to do that to you while we were drunk."

One of your brows raises, and like most of your facial expressions, this one sends a wave of impending doom over Eddie- he's so fucked- "Would you want to do that to me while we're sober?"

Eddie hopes that his flyaway curls, made even messier by his pillows, cover the pink parts of his face. He's usually a smooth-talker, never one to stutter but he's never managed to smart off to your face- no, in front of you he folds instead.

"I didn't say that." He manages, his hands finding purchase on his hips, "You're putting words in my mouth."

"Are they untrue?" You ask, brow only arching further, as a sadistic grin begins spreading over your face like you may be looking to steal Christmas from the Whos, "Because the only thing that did happen was you woke up with a semi."

"That just happens sometimes." Eddie's telling the truth, but in this particular instance, it could have had something to do with your perfume filling his nose, blacking out his senses, "That doesn't mean-"

"You've still got it." You refrain from glancing at Eddie's waistline, but you don't need to, "It came back when I started teasing you."

"You are ogling me." Eddie states, faux hurt in his tone as he fights a losing battle, "And I can't believe you'd strip me down to such base instincts without considering the deep nuance I hold."

"You'd better strip yourself down for a cold shower," You snicker, turning away and giving Eddie a truly unfair shot of your mostly-bare back where your tank top has ridden down your torso, "Or I think you're gonna nuance all over your pants."

[luveline]

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect. fem, 5k 

ditzy-ish reader, pining eddie, mutual pining, confessions, first kisses, fluff and hugging, idiots in love, mild states of undress

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s a day fit for a funeral in Hawkins. Rain hammers his bedroom window like hailstones, plinking against the frame, condensation running down the panes in thick rivulets he soaks up with an old t-shirt. 

It’s supposed to be spring time. Green grass, flowers, a gentle humming sun to warm the back of his neck while he sits out on the couch on the porch, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers, the tip shimmering with heat. 

But the rain pours. He’s cleaned his room for the first time in a month, at least, and his back aches in the best way as he lays down amongst fresh sheets. His room feels strange when it’s organised, but he doesn’t mind. He pictures the state of it through a second pair of eyes. This is a boy who cares about things, who takes care of them, who could take care of me, too. 

Rain again rackets on the metal roof above. He and Wayne keep a couple hundred bucks stashed for the day the roof flies straight off —they take turns hiding it, because cars break down and groceries get more expensive every year, but god will they need it, and so they safeguard it well. 

He syphoned a little of the money recently with Wayne’s support. It was for a good cause. 

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to himself, not tired but feeling dull as the clouds outside eat the remaining sun. 

It’s depressing to be poor, and to lose a day trying to hide the evidence of an entire life in a small room. He could sleep a hundred years. 

He’s just finished pulling the sheets over his shoulder when somebody knocks on the front door. Wayne opens it three rooms away, the sound of the rain doubled. 

He gives a startling shout, “Ed! Your girl!” 

Eddie topples out of bed. Doesn’t mean to, foot caught in the bottom of the sheets and stuck as he scrambles to slide out of the mess. He’s begged Wayne not to call you that when you’re within earshot, but Wayne’s a mean (kind) old bastard (middle aged dad) who wants Eddie dead (happy, and in love). 

“Come on in, girl. You’re soaking.” 

“It’s raining.” 

“It’s pouring down. Did you walk here?” 

“Took my bike. Thought I’d get struck by lightning in the car.” 

“How’d you figure?” 

Eddie goes to grab the door handle and spins on his heel, staggering onto his bed and up against the wall, where a mirrored tray once used by Dio himself for rolling hangs from the wall. He checks his face in the polished surface, his warped mouth and nose, too small eyes, and swears to himself that one day he’ll get a real mirror with a fully-functioning reflective surface. 

Then he hops down off of the bed, causing a reverberation he knows traverses the entirety of the trailer floor. Eddie snatches a rare clean towel from his laundry chair and speeds down the hall. 

“Hello,” he says, more casual than he feels to find you unexpectedly in his house. “You’re soaked.” 

You give a sweet smile. “It’s raining out, did you not know?” 

Your hair is dripping, water racing down the curves of your face to collect at your chin. Eddie can see the smudges of your makeup where it’s washing off as he wraps a towel around you, kohl on your cheeks, eyelashes turned to half-diamonds and sticky-looking. You grin at being covered, taking the towel from his fingers before he can dab you dry. 

“Why didn’t you just call me?”’

“I can never remember if your phone number ends in three or four.” 

“Seven. I wrote it down for you a hundred times.” 

You rub your eyes and spread all manner of glitter and shadow over your skin. You wipe your neck and the glitter spreads like an alien rash. 

When you talk next, you shiver, “I lost it a hundred times, sorry. Is it okay that I'm here?” 

Wayne, who’s been watching with a distinct sense of amusement from the couch, lets out a chesty laugh. “Honey, it’s always okay that you’re here on my account. And it’s my house.” 

“It’s fine.” Eddie turns your shoulder so he can mouth over it without being caught. Asshole. 

Another laugh follows. Eddie would cut each of his fingers from his hand and then his hand from his wrist if it were something Wayne needed him to do, but that doesn’t make him any less of an opportunistic asshole. If there’s a way to fuck with Eddie, he tends to try it. He loves Eddie with all the tenacity of a father who loves his son, but Wayne got infected with little bitch disease or something and Eddie can’t cure it. 

“Can I please wash my face? I didn’t expect to get soaked.” 

“Didn’t you?” He regrets his flippancy quickly, leading you down the hall. “You could take a shower. What do you think?” 

You’ve never showered here, but Eddie’s trying to, you know, date you. Romance you, get to cherish you, however anyone wants to say it. And it’s not a war of attrition, just a natural escalation of sharing, or a minimising of boundaries. 

No, that’s pervy, isn’t it? 

“I mean–” He starts to correct himself. 

You interrupt with your answer, “Yes, please, do you think I could? But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have your purple hoodie in my room, and there’s gotta be a pair of sweatpants here that fit you,” he says. 

They’ve got a whole bunch of clothes here that floated in from somewhere else, Eddie’s other friends or stuff they’ve bought by mistake. He’s sure he can find something.

“You have my hoodie?” you ask, black kohl spreading across the towel as you wipe your cheek. 

Eddie only smelled it one time. When he’d realised you left it in his van he brought it in and folded it, waiting for the next time he’d see you to give it back, but that night he’d been getting out of the shower wondering if he could call you or if that was too soon, and your hoodie had been right there. So he stood there in his pyjama pants with his wet hair and he didn’t think about picking your hoodie up, he just did, and when he pressed it to his face it still smelled of your perfume. 

He put it back and felt like a loser for days.

“It’s in my closet, you left it in the van Monday,” he explains quickly, nudging you through the doorway of the bathroom. 

The Munson bathroom is teeny tiny but not unnavigable. There’s a shower pressed to the far wall that could squeeze in two people, their toilet to the right, a sink basin opposite that with a medicine cabinet and just enough room for a dirty laundry box that’s always, always full. 

Eddie opens the shower and turns it on. “It takes a while to get really hot but then it’s not hot for long, sorry. There’s my shampoo if you want it, and soap, and body wash. Sorry, none of it is super girly.” 

“Sorry sorry,” you say, pretending to hit him in the stomach. “What’s with all the sorries, handsome? I can’t wait to smell like a boy.” 

The way you say it. Eddie doesn’t know what it is, but it’s why he’s crazy about you. 

Probably shouldn’t tell you that as you're taking off your jacket, though. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

Eddie heads out of the bathroom to their skinny linen cabinet hidden in the hallway. He grabs the last two towels from the middle shelf and takes pause, fabric starchy in his hands. Just be normal, he thinks, a pep talk from Eddie to Eddie. She hangs out with you all the time for a reason. She held your hand at the movies. 

Eddie’s in better spirits when he remembers that. Your hand in his, your ring pushing his ring further down his finger, your cheek touching his shoulder as you’d leaned in and asked if he wanted some of your popcorn. 

He opens the door without thinking, shower pattering against the perspex wall, your legs crossing tightly as he enters, turning yourself away from him.

“Woah!” you say, laughing.

“Holy crap.” The image of your red underwear immediately stamps itself into his mind as he pulls the door shut between you. They were really cute, red and white gingham, showcasing just the slightest curve of your– “I told you I was coming back!” 

“I thought you’d knock!” you laugh. “Sorry I flashed you. At least I had my shirt on.” 

At least, he thinks wryly, shoving his arm through the gap in the door, heavy towels pulling at his fingers. His head’s about to snap off, it's turned so far away from the door’s opening. “Here.” 

“If you wanna see me naked so bad you can just ask,” you tease. 

“Take the towels, loser.” 

You take the towels and he closes the door, preventing any more accidental creeping, and giving himself a reprieve. Gingham underwear. Wavy lettuce edgings kissing your skin. 

Holy fuck. Being a person is so lame, Eddie thinks. He wants to have a crush on you purely, and yet seeing the way you’d crossed your legs to hide from him, smiling, he can’t not think about kissing you —touching you. If he doesn’t get you laid out in his bed soon for some slow kissing he’s not gonna make it.

Eddie opens the strip vent above his window and prays it doesn’t flood his whole room. Clean, it doesn’t look half bad, he could bring you in here respectfully, you could stay the night without fearing for your life. 

You take a quick shower. He’s barely gotten over his nerves when you’re walking into his room, a towel around you, not a hint of shyness about you. 

“You didn’t bring me anything to wear,” you explain. 

Eddie just stares at you. 

“Eddie?” You wrap the towel tighter. “Come on, you’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” His mouth is bone dry. 

“You have my hoodie, right? Just need some pants.” You cross your arm tightly across your chest. “I don’t usually notice when people are staring at me.”

“You aren’t usually naked in my room,” he says, genuinely and embarrassingly apologetic. 

“I’m not naked. Come on, please? Do I have to wait outside the door?” you ask with a laugh. 

Eddie stands up. Shakes his head hard, almost trips over himself trying to get to his dresser. He decides honesty will be best at this point, lest you think he has only one thing on his mind, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just in my head about something and I wasn’t expecting you to come out like that. It’s not right. You’re just… you’re really pretty.” 

“Thank you.” He can’t see you, sorting quickly through his middle drawer and all his miscellaneous pants for a pair he’s sure would fit, if he could just remember where it was. “What are you in your head about?” 

“What?” 

“Eddie, are you okay?” 

“No, no,” he moans, rubbing his face with his hand, ring scratching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not okay, princess, I’m overheating or something, Jesus Christ.” He finally lays eyes on the sweatpants he’d been thinking of, grabs your hoodie from the top shelf and drops them both at the end of the bed. “I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“I don’t have any underwear.” 

“And that’s something I can’t fix,” he says, leaving the room in a hurry. 

Eddie gets to the living room and keels over. His hair falls in his face, his shirt slides down his back. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

Wayne, sliding his shoes on in the recliner, gives a start. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lifts his head, yanking hair from his face, the skin of his under eyes pulled down harshly. “Oh my god.”

Wayne wrinkles his nose. 

“No ones ever been such a pathetic excuse for a man before,” Eddie says. 

“Your dad’s in jail,” Wayne points out. “And not for the impressive stuff.”

“I’m pathetic.” 

“You’re fine. You’re not supposed to be not pathetic, you’re twenty.” 

“I’m twenty one.” 

“The extra year doesn’t mean much. I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still an idiot.” 

Wayne stands and shrugs on the jacket laying over the armrest. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“I thought you were definitely gonna ask her?” Wayne asks knowingly. That’s what Eddie told him, after all. “Next time I see her, Wayne, I’m asking her to go steady.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “You can’t leave.” 

“Eddie.” Wayne gestures for Eddie to stop slouching like some fiend from a bad horror. “Listen. I get that you’ve always been sort of… behind everyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. She likes you. She biked here in a hurricane.”

“What if she says no?” he asks. 

Truthfully, Eddie’s more scared of you saying yes. 

Wayne shrugs. “Girl like that’ll still be your friend after. It’ll be fine, okay? Do you need a hug before I go?” 

“No.” Eddie rubs his eyes some more, sore now from being touched. “Maybe.” 

Wayne crosses the room to give his shoulder a squeeze. “It will be fine. You’re great with rejection, Eds, but I have a good feeling about this one.” 

Eddie felt better about it, before he embarrassed himself staring at you. But Wayne’s right, even if Eddie’s read things wrong between you, he’s sure you’ll still want to be his friend. You and Eddie are the same kind of weird, though he’s more angry where you’re carefree. If everything goes wrong, you’ll probably just give an unnecessary apology and offer to braid his hair. Which will be torture, but Eddie’ll still say yes.

Wayne calls goodbye, and you shout, “Bye, Mr. Munson!” to which Wayne wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Get lost,” Eddie says. 

“Go make her a drink. I’ll see you later.” 

That’s not a bad idea. Eddie makes you a mix of orange and grapefruit juice with a couple of ice cubes and a plastic straw, your reaction predicted and then proved. 

“It’s a cocktail,” you say, pleased, sitting on the side of his bed. 

“It’s not a cocktail, just juice.” 

“Can I have some socks, please, Eddie?” 

Eddie passes you your drink, fingertips brushing. “Yeah. Anything else?” He pretends to be exhausted as he trudges back over to his dresser. 

You laugh and sip your drink. “No, I think you’re treating me quite well.” 

Eddie grabs a random pair and finally gets to sit down beside you, the dresser drawer left out, a spare sock fallen to the floor. You shuffle back into his pillows, propping your juice on his side table, and holding your hands out for the socks. Again, your fingertips touch his as he passes them to you. You seem to enjoy it, a smile lighting your face as you pull your knees up to put the socks on. 

“Thank you for waiting on me,” you say quietly. Not shyly, just quiet. 

“You’re welcome. Came all this way to see me, didn’t you?” He gives you a shove. You shuffle back further. “In the pouring rain.” 

“It felt important at the time.” 

“Yeah?” 

You get the socks on and don’t care about them once they're past your heels. Eddie does the honour of smoothing out the bands so that the elastic won’t dig into your skin, and when he’s done he can feel you looking at him heavily. You’re not one for continued eye contact, but you smile like you were waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief to see him. 

“Bad weather,” you say, slouching down. “I think I’m still wet on the inside.” 

“Gross,” Eddie says, pushing you over bodily to sit beside you. This isn’t new, he doesn’t need any nerves, and he’s grateful when they don’t come. “Here, I’ll pull the blanket over you.” 

“Can’t move,” you say, leaning back against the pillows.

Eddie stretches his legs out. You keep yours up, but you turn to his side, and before he can really make any sense of you, you’re dropping your face into his shoulder. 

“Are you still cold?” he asks, searching for the truth in your strange comment. 

You nod into his shoulder. “I’m freezing. The shower didn’t get very hot.” 

“Sorry,” he says, letting his cheek rest on your head. 

You lift your chin as he does it, his lashes pressed to your forehead, the two of you stuck together like two warped jigsaw pieces. You probably weren’t made to be together, but you make a nice picture, and you fit snugly now. That’s what Eddie thinks. 

This is the sort of moment that makes Eddie wanna ask you out. Maybe you’re just the best friend he’s ever had, but something about this closeness feels different. You wrap your arm around his stomach in a hug and he knows this is different. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, sighing as you shift downward into his side, getting comfortable. 

“Please don’t bike here in the rain. It’s, like, torrential. You could actually get sick.” 

You feel warm where your body presses against his, but Eddie doubts that’ll make a difference if the cold already made you sick. The bike ride from your place to his isn't short. He covers your arm with his and tries to be your space heater, cheek sliding over your forehead. 

“Eddie…” You hug him with tenderness. Eddie’s reluctant to say cuddle, but it’s close. “This might be a surprise to you, but I think it’s worth the rain and the cold to see you. Especially when you do this.” 

“What am I doing?” 

“You’re rubbing my arm.” 

He hadn’t noticed his hand caressing up and down your arm where it rests on his stomach. 

“You make me feel amazing,” you say, dropping your face into his chest. 

That’s his last straw. Eddie gets both arms around you and cuddles you (it’s a cuddle, okay! he’s a loser!) to him, arms tight but not cruel. All this fuss and you’re finally laying on top of him. He decides he won’t ask you after all. He’s not that brave, and he doesn’t want this to end. 

Your legs fall onto him. You relax completely. Even after you shower he can smell your perfume. 

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. 

“It’s on my hoodie,” you murmur back. 

Right. Eddie should remember. 

“You make everything smell like you.” Even his van keeps your scent most days. 

“Too much?” 

“The right amount,” he says firmly. 

You lay on his chest for a while, just breathing. Eddie rubs your back, tells himself he will ask, actually, because he can’t imagine not getting to do this again. You might even stay over. He could live hours of this. He didn’t know having you lay on him could make him feel like this. 

He can’t believe you’ve never done it before. 

Rain pounds the window. Condensation drips down onto the sill. You let your legs stretch out flat and then manoeuvre to be laying half atop him, hoodie riding up your back. 

“Any warmer now?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re warming me up.” You lavish in his arms for a moment, and then lift your face. “Oh, this is a bad angle.” 

“For me or you?” 

“For me, duh.” 

Eddie doesn’t think you could have a bad angle. He rubs at your upper arm as you start to shift. “You know, your bike has just as big a chance of getting hit by lightning as your car does. More, probably.” 

“You think so?” 

“It’s physics. So, please don’t do it again.” 

You hum. “Hm, should I risk getting struck by lightning, or spend the evening without you?” you murmur, your arm moving, moving slowly, your hand resting gently on the column of his neck. There’s something ironic in your voice, wry, but your eyes are warm. He’s paralysed. No one has ever spoken to him like you. “I think I’d rather get struck by lightning.” 

You stare at one another. He laughs. You join in, your thumb a pressure at his neck, and when you move up his chest to lean in, he isn’t expecting it. 

“We’re very close together,” you whisper. 

“Super close,” he whispers back. 

“…Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your eyes slip shut, your lips so close that something in him aches, just enough wit about him to cup your shoulders in his forearm. 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t sound half as calm as you do. 

“Would you… Do you think we could be official? Would you want that?” You tilt your head to the side. “Is that stupid?” 

“Official?” he asks, panicked, his eyes squeezed shut hard enough for a moment that they ache.

“Like, you’d be my boyfriend. I’d be your girlfriend. We’d be close like this all the time.” 

Eddie panics so hard he just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Like, we’d kiss?” 

“I hope so,” you say, your nose pressing against his, the tip to the side of his, and then against his nostril. The heat of your breath is hard to ignore. “What do you think?” 

What does Eddie think about it? 

He catches your lips in a slow kiss. Achingly slow, not even sure it’s a kiss until you reciprocate, and your fingers dig behind his neck to tease his hair. Your lips part against his, the heat of your tongue sudden and undeniable —Eddie didn’t know you had it in you. He squeezes you to him, attempting to crane his neck downward, reliant on your enthusiasm as you move up, as you use his neck to pull yourself closer. 

Your noses crush together, and it actually hurts. “Sorry,” he says, easing you back, “you okay?” 

“‘Nother kiss,” you say hopefully, distractedly. 

He can’t not give it to you. 

Your hand spreads flat against his chest and you kiss, you kiss, long and slow movements against him before turning your head to take it again. Eddie doesn’t always know what to do with himself, but he knows kissing, no matter what anybody might think about him, and he takes the lead. 

His hand screws into a fist against your hoodie, the slip of your back further exposed as you shiver into his mouth, a sound you shouldn’t make sweet on his tongue. 

You pull away, breath on his lips. “Wanted you to kiss me for so long,” you murmur. 

Eddie knows you’re not saying it to flirt, and that makes it worse. 

“I should’ve kissed you a long time ago,” he says roughly. 

“You wanted to?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, so much, I’m a loser about you–”

“I’m always a loser,” you interrupt, “but especially about you.” 

You scratch your fingers through his hair, encouraging his head down for another kiss. This one rougher but not rough, his arm slips finally behind your head where he’d needed it to be, hooking you in his elbow to keep you in one place. To kiss you soundly, without interruption. Your almost feverish ebbing inward is a dream, your nose rubbing up against his is a fantasy. 

His heart hammers and hammers at his ribs. 

You pull away to let him breathe. “You’re very excited,” you tease lightly. 

Eddie kisses you, breathless. He kisses you so much he’s surprised you allow it, but your thumb rubs his cheek, and he knows he’d been right all along. You want him like he wants you, with startling, mildly pathetic urgency. 

He feels like a fucking prince. Girl of his dreams in his lap, everything he wants, and he didn’t even have to ask. 

—

Eddie spends a week in bliss. You’re suddenly everywhere, all the time, attached to his hip or some other part of him, and he forgets for seven whole days that he bought you a ring. 

The rain dries up, the Munson emergency fund lives to die another day, and he remembers the ring only minutes before you’re knocking at his door. 

He trips over himself trying to answer it before Wayne, who’s taken to being as painfully embarrassing as is possible for one human being, can get it for him. 

“One day you’re gonna eat shit and break your nose,” Wayne says. 

Eddie yanks open the door. “Yeah, thanks. Hey, beautiful, what’s with the sunglasses?” 

You slide them down your nose. You’re a vision on his front step, not that you’d ever notice your own intrigue. “The sunglasses?” you ask, tucking them away. “What do you think they’re for? Three guesses.” 

He grabs your waist, leaning down out of the doorway so as to save Wayne the agony. “That’s smart,” he says, kissing you quickly in hello. “You’re funny. Need anything before we go?” 

“No, I’m okay. Hi, Mr. Munson!” you add.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” Wayne calls.

You look up into Eddie’s face with an obvious delight. “I’ve never been better.” 

Eddie grins back. 

He waves a quick goodbye to Wayne and then he’s out the door. You grab his wrist and practically dance him to the car, where you offer your keys, and he deigns to drive. From there it’s smooth sailing, familiarity with a better twist, Eddie driving with the windows down and your hands twined on your thigh. Things haven’t changed much since you asked him to go steady, there’s just a whole lot more of this. Touching, kissing, no weird guilt about staring. 

As it turns out, you’re as eager to be laid out in his bed as he is to lay you out. He’s never wanted to kiss you more, and now he’s allowed. 

“Eyes on the road.” 

He leans over to kiss your cheek. The sun has warmed your skin, and his kiss makes you smile. You look pretty no matter the weather. 

“Before we get there, I have something to give you.” He takes his hand from yours to slide the box from his pocket. He holds it up. “But you can only have it if you swear you’ll call me tonight before bed. No excuses. You know exactly what number to call.” 

“Ends with a three,” you say, nodding. 

He sighs. “No, it does not.” 

“I’m kidding! Two one nine seven, I have now committed it to memory.” 

Eddie pays attention to the road, though it’s clear and long heading out of the trailer park and into town. “That deserves a gift.” 

You’re back in your glitters today, a skirt to enjoy the fine weather, a button shirt with a cute triangle collar, you’re lovely as ever, if a tad much for some. Not Eddie. He loves the dark clothes, the tinkling bracelets, the fun way you smile like everything he says is a secret between him and you. People stare wherever you and Eddie go, but as long your arm is sewn through his he couldn’t care less. 

“A gift,” you say, smiling in your way, and taking the box politely. “I don’t think I deserve it for just remembering your number.” 

“You deserved it for less. It’s not much. You can pay me back in three or four amazing kisses. Right here.” He points to the tight juncture beneath his jaw. 

You attempt to lean over and kiss him immediately. He pushes you back, laughing, worsened by your own breathless laughter as you steal one exactly where he’d tapped. 

You settle back down, Eddie’s hand dropping kindly to your knee. “I wonder what it is,” you say. 

“Then open it.” 

“I am!” You pop the box open, it’s springing hinge snapping into place. “Oh, woah. Woah. Where did you get this?” 

It’s a slim ring, with a weirdly shaped band of quality metal around some cheaper but not totally worthless gemstones, of which there are three different colours: a topaz orange, a lime green, and a pinky-red ruby colour centre stage. They have nice cuts. It’s strange as you are, and he knew when he saw it you’d have to have it. 

“If I put it on my marriage finger, are we engaged?” you tease. 

“That one would be way heavier,” he says, giving you a squeeze. 

You slide it onto your middle finger and hold your hand up in the sunshine. It fits in with your other ring nicely, though it is, to Eddie’s pride, far prettier. 

He has half a mind to pull over and kiss each knuckle, but he’s trying to be less dramatic about you. It’s not working. 

“Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” 

“Best boyfriend ever?” he asks hopefully. 

To his mild fear but better pleasure, you climb up onto the console to press three quick kisses to his cheek and jaw, your hand under his ear holding him in tender place. “Best boyfriend ever. Even if you stare too much.” 

“How am I supposed to not?” he asks, with more weight than he’s intended. 

You speak matter of factly for the first time in your life. “I am going to cause an accident,” you promise, attempting to kiss his nose. “A bad one.” 

“Sit down, please.” He lets you kiss his nose, and then jabs you in the side. “Sit down, oh my god! That’s not funny, you’re so pretty I will total your car.” 

“Now who’s not funny?” 

You both laugh at the same time, the unfiltered, un-cute cackling of two idiots with the same sense of humour, and the same wealth of ridiculous honeymoon love. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. if you did, please consider reblogging or commenting!! thanks very much <3

[cosmicamor]

the very first time eddie sees your boobs he giggles like a child. not because he's laughing at you but because he's purely just excited to be seeing your boobs. he stares in awe, never knowing someone could ever be so beautiful, his big button eyes doubling in size when you eventually lift your shirt up. a small gasp leaves his lips and his first instinct is to touch them, of course only doing so with permission, which you give him. he cups his slightly calloused hands around your breasts, kneading them softly and rolling his thumbs over your nipples until they're taut beneath his touch. "holy shit, they're so - they're so - wow." he's speechless. he leans back for a moment to really take you in, before pulling you down onto his bed in a surprise movement and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, "you're so fucking beautiful, baby." and then proceeding to pepper you with kisses all over 𐑺

[thepinkpanther83]

Reader is sitting at the hellfire club table in the cafeteria when Eddie approaches with the intentions to make reader flustered but it backfires.

Please and thank you 😊

Error 404: Smoothness Not Found

One-Shot Request: “Error 404: Smoothness Not Found”

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

💌 Author’s Note: Huge thanks to @meankenna for sending in this funny and adorable prompt, I had fun imagining Eddie getting absolutely wrecked by a smooth, unbothered Reader. You’re keeping the Hellfire chaos alive and I love ya for it. 💖 Hope this flirty lil romp makes you smile! 💋

~Pinkie 🍒

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

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🎸 Summary: Eddie Munson doesn’t get nervous. He’s a Dungeon Master, a guitar god, a champion of cafeteria theatrics.

But when he sets out to fluster a cool, calm outsider at the Hellfire table with one of his classic lines, he gets hit with something he didn’t expect: his own game, turned on him.

A one-shot full of sharp banter, unexpected sparks, and the kind of lunchroom showdown that might just lead to love.

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

“Error 404: Smoothness Not Found”

The cafeteria was its usual midday jungle, linoleum floors sticky with mystery stains, the air thick with teenage body spray and tater tots, and the low roar of adolescent chaos echoing off the walls. But over in the far-left corner, where the Hellfire Club had permanently claimed their domain, the chaos took on a distinctly nerdy flavor.

Dustin was in full meltdown mode.

“I’m telling you, Jeff, if my d20 mysteriously lands on a one again, I’m invoking dice tampering and demanding a re-roll.”

“On what grounds?” Jeff snorted, clutching his carton of chocolate milk like it was a rare artifact. “Your own bad luck isn’t a war crime, Henderson.”

Mike chimed in with a muttered, “You’re just mad your rogue keeps falling in love with NPCs,” while Gareth and Grant broke into a cackling duet, drumming out the Jaws theme on their trays.

Amid the storm of mockery and snacks, you sat calmly at the edge of the table, a quiet satellite in the Hellfire galaxy. You weren’t a member, but you’d been absorbed into the gravitational pull somehow, maybe through mutual classes, or shared disdain for cafeteria food. Either way, no one questioned your presence anymore. You didn’t play D&D, but you definitely watched it like a sociologist. Or a cat observing a very lively fish tank.

You balanced a crossword puzzle on one knee, methodically chewing through baby carrots and ignoring the shrieking over critical failures. Your pencil tapped a rhythm against the paper as you searched for a six-letter word meaning charming but doomed. You smirked to yourself. The answer was probably Munson.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

The cafeteria doors banged open like the prelude to a boss battle, and there he was, Eddie Munson, leather-jacketed menace, King of the Freaks, and current front-runner in your personal list of “People Who Flirt Like It’s a Performance Art.”

You didn’t even have to look up to know he’d clocked you. You could feel it, that strange static charge that always rolled in with him like thunder before a storm. Somewhere between his combat boots and his wild mop of curls, the man managed to manufacture drama like it was a bodily function.

And judging by the slow curl of his smirk, he was already planning an ambush.

Eddie didn’t walk. He made an entrance.

Combat boots hit tile like a drumline. His rings clicked with every exaggerated gesture, like punctuation marks to an invisible sentence. The cafeteria didn’t look up, most of them had learned to just let Eddie Munson exist in his own dimension, but the Hellfire table definitely noticed.

Grant leaned toward Gareth with a muttered, “He’s got that look again.”

“Uh-oh,” Gareth whispered, catching the target of Eddie’s laser-focused attention. “Incoming flirt assault.”

You didn’t flinch. Pencil still in hand, you marked another square on your crossword as Eddie approached like a lion on a catwalk.

He came to a dramatic halt just beside you, resting one hand on the back of your chair and the other over his heart like he was preparing to recite Shakespeare.

His voice dropped into that low, faux-sultry register he used when he was laying it on way too thick.

“So, how’s the prettiest person in the world doing today?”

You didn’t even blink.

From across the table, Dustin made a noise like someone stepping on a wet clarinet. “Oh god,” he groaned, slapping his forehead. “Here he goes again.”

Mike muttered, “Please crash and burn,” under his breath like a spell, while Jeff and Grant leaned forward in quiet anticipation.

The table was holding its collective breath. But you? You were still calm. Unbothered. Pencil still tapping gently against your knee.

Cool as a cucumber in the middle of a microwave, you finally glanced up, lazily. Sipped your drink. Eyebrows lifted just a touch. Expression unreadable, and said flatly-

“I don’t know. How are you?”

It hit him like a crit to the chest.

Record scratch. System failure. Reboot error.

Eddie.exe had stopped responding.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Mouth parted like a Windows update was about to install. His brain buffer wheel was visibly spinning behind those wide brown eyes. For one glorious moment, the man was entirely speechless.

And the table?

Dead silent.

Even Dustin was in awe.

Eddie’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

The confidence? Gone. Swagger? Missing in action. Leather jacket? Still fabulous, but definitely not helping him now.

He cleared his throat once, then again, like he could cough the embarrassment out of his lungs.

“I’m…”

He tried again. Voice pitched slightly higher, cracked on the last syllable like an untrained choirboy.

“I’m fine.”

And just like that, the illusion shattered.

Grant choked on his apple slice.

Gareth slapped both hands on the table like he was witnessing a miracle. “Oh my god. He short-circuited.”

Dustin leaned across the table with gleeful menace. “Are you blushing, dude? Did we just watch Eddie ‘Nothing Phases Me’ Munson malfunction over a one-liner?”

“Mark the date,” Mike added, eyes wide, like he was witnessing history. “We just witnessed the fall of a legend.”

Eddie raised both middle fingers without breaking eye contact with you, the picture of performative defiance… except for the faint pink flush creeping up his cheeks, giving him away entirely.

You just sipped your drink again, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly.

You were enjoying this. Too much.

And Eddie knew it.

He was in trouble.

You watched him flounder, savoring every second of it like the first sip of something fizzy and dangerous. Eddie Munson, master of theatrics, king of the underdogs, flirt extraordinaire, was currently melting like a record left too close to a heater.

And he knew it.

Finally, after dragging the silence out just long enough to make him squirm, you tilted your head and really looked at him, slow, deliberate, eyes scanning from his tangled curls to the panicked gleam in his eyes.

Then, you smiled.

Not wide. Not dramatic.

Just the faintest upward tug at the corner of your lips, small, sharp, smug.

“Gotcha,” that smirk said without needing a word.

Eddie visibly twitched. He’d been bested. Checkmated. Absolutely wrecked.

And the worst part?

He liked it.

Your pencil returned to your crossword, but before you started filling in the next clue, you shifted slightly, nudging your tray to the side with just enough space to make the invitation obvious.

“You gonna sit or just hover there short-circuiting?”

He blinked. You watched the moment his brain reconnected with his body.

“Y-Yeah,” he muttered, trying to inject some cool back into his voice and absolutely failing. “I can… yeah.”

He slid into the seat beside you like it was his idea, like he wasn’t internally screaming, like this wasn’t the first time someone had flipped his game upside down and laughed about it.

Grant gave him a slow clap. Dustin made the international L hand sign for “Loser.” Mike stage-whispered, “He’s already down bad.”

But Eddie barely heard them.

Because now he was sitting next to you, and you were still smirking.

And he had no idea what you were going to do next.

But suddenly…

He really, really wanted to find out.

The moment Eddie sat down, you went right back to your crossword like he hadn’t just face-planted into a flirt trap of his own making. But there was a smug, satisfied ease to your posture now, and it was driving him insane in the best way.

Eddie leaned in a little, elbows on the table, trying to recover some semblance of control. “So…” he started, flashing his signature grin, though it wobbled at the edges now, like his pride had a dent in it. “You always this dangerous during lunch?”

Without looking up, you replied dryly:

“Only when provoked.”

That grin faltered again. He pushed on anyway.

“Gotta say, sweetheart, you’ve got some serious nerve turning the tables on me.”

You circled a clue. “Was that your A-game just now? Because if it was…” You finally met his eyes, head tilting.

“Should I be flattered or concerned?”

Grant wheezed. Dustin slammed his tray in approval. “SOMEONE GIVE HER A TROPHY.”

Eddie put a hand to his chest like he’d been struck. “Ouch. I come over here offering my heart, and maybe a little of my lunch money, and I get roasted like a damn marshmallow.”

“You came over here with a pickup line you’ve probably used on half the marching band.”

He gasped. “Now that’s just… okay, that’s fair.”

You turned to face him more fully, one leg crossing over the other. “Don’t take it too hard, Munson. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

For a moment, Eddie just stared. Like that one sentence had detonated whatever was left of his dignity.

“I… uh-”

He blinked rapidly. “See, now that’s just cruel. You can’t just casually say something like that. I’m emotionally fragile.”

You smirked again. “Yeah? You seem really delicate.”

“Emotionally, not physically!” he said, flailing slightly. “I’m tough. I headbang. I do mosh pits.”

“You cried during The Last Unicorn, Eddie.”

“Dustin promised he wouldn’t tell anyone that!”

“Oh, he didn’t,” you said, quirking a brow. “You did. Last week when you got drunk. Very dramatically.”

Dustin nodded solemnly. “You reenacted the scene with full narration.”

Eddie sagged into the table. “This is bullying.”

You nudged his elbow with yours. “No. This is flirting. Try to keep up.”

His head shot up, eyes wide.

Oh yeah, he was so down bad.

The banter didn’t stop, it just evolved. Sharper, brighter, like the two of you were passing jokes back and forth faster than the Hellfire boys could keep up. Eddie was grinning so hard it looked like it hurt. You were still smirking, but now there was a glint in your eyes, something softer, warmer.

It wasn’t a competition anymore.

It was a rhythm.

You reached for your juice box just as Eddie leaned over to grab a napkin, your fingers brushed.

Not full-on hand-holding. Just the tips. Just enough for his breath to catch.

And his heart? Yeah. That thing skipped like a scratched tape.

You didn’t flinch. But your eyes flicked up, met his. The faintest pulse, electric, unspoken.

He recovered fast, tossing you a wink. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cop a feel.”

“Eddie,” you said flatly, “your finger grazed mine. Settle down before you need a cigarette.”

“Oof. Brutal,” he grinned, tilting his head. “I’m just trying to build some romantic tension here. Let me live.”

“I’m still recovering from the Last Unicorn thing,” you teased, just as Eddie picked up Gareth’s half-finished can of grape soda for no reason at all.

He opened his mouth to respond, but he was laughing too hard.

It came out of him in a loud, sudden honk bark, surprised and delighted by you. He threw his head back and bumped the can with the edge of his palm, sending purple fizz skittering across the table and directly into Jeff’s lap.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Jeff: “Dude.”

Eddie froze mid-cackle, still grinning like an idiot. “Oh my god. I swear that wasn’t planned.”

“I just washed these jeans!” Jeff wailed, jumping up.

But you were laughing now too.

Really laughing.

Head back, lips parted, one hand over your stomach. It hit you in a wave, sudden and genuine, the way good moments always do when you least expect them. It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t cruel. It was just… joy.

And Eddie looked at you like someone had just turned the sun on.

For all the chaos, for all the fizzy embarrassment, he couldn’t stop staring.

“There it is,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

You glanced over, catching the look. “There what is?”

He blinked. Smile crooked. “Nothing. Just… I win.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you do, soda assassin.”

But your knee bumped against his under the table and neither of you moved away.

The table was still buzzing with secondhand embarrassment and grape soda residue, but Eddie had stopped noticing everything around him.

He was fully zeroed in on you now, watching the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, the way you kept nudging him like the two of you had done this a thousand times before. Like it was natural.

You teased him again about the soda, something about “friendly fire” and “reckless endangerment of cafeteria fashion,” and he just grinned, all teeth and dimples and overwhelmed brain cells.

And then-

“Oh my god,” Dustin groaned loudly. “You’re literally drooling. Just ask her out already.”

Eddie choked.

Mike, who hadn’t looked up from his peanut butter sandwich in minutes, casually added, “Seriously. You’re embarrassing yourself and the dice gods.”

Eddie whipped his head around, eyes wide, face flaming. “I am not drooling!”

Dustin raised his brows. “Your mouth’s open. You keep staring. You just spilled a drink because she laughed. That’s a rom-com trifecta, man.”

Eddie looked like he was about to start foaming at the mouth out of sheer panic.

You, meanwhile, turned toward him slowly, resting your chin in your hand, eyes twinkling with dangerous amusement.

“Is that true?” you asked, voice light. “You planning to ask me out?”

The whole table went still.

Gareth’s spoon halfway to his mouth. Jeff frozen mid-blotting his jeans. Even Grant paused mid-sip of whatever mystery fluid he’d found in the vending machine.

Eddie swallowed hard.

You tilted your head. Not pushing. Not teasing this time.

Just… curious.

And flirtatious as hell.

Eddie’s mouth opened. Then closed. Like he was loading a save file from deep within his soul.

He cleared his throat, sat up a little straighter, and, miraculously, dialed it down. Just a notch. Enough that the swagger melted into something real beneath the surface noise. Less Dungeon Master, more Eddie.

“So hey,” he said, rubbing his palms against his jeans like he wasn’t sweating bullets, “if you’re not busy Friday night…”

You raised a brow, waiting. Dangerous glint back in your eyes.

“Wanna grab a burger and shake with me or something? Nothing fancy. Just... you and me. Maybe I don’t trip over anything or knock drinks over this time.”

The table leaned in as one collective being, holding its breath.

You let the silence stretch, just long enough to make him squirm. Not cruelly. Just a moment of power. Of play.

And then, with the faintest smile tugging at your lips:

“Only if you promise not to start with another cheesy line.”

Eddie exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days. Grin spreading again, lopsided and a little dazed.

“No promises,” he said, “but I’ll try my best.”

From across the table, Gareth let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “God, finally. I was about to start drawing hearts around your names on my character sheet.”

Dustin fist-pumped. “Hellfire matchmaking is real.”

You turned to Eddie one last time, eyes warm now, no teasing, just interested.

“Pick me up at seven, Munson.”

And just like that, you turned back to your crossword. Calm. Casual. Still in control.

Eddie sat there stunned for a second, watching you like you’d just cast a spell he didn’t know how to break.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to no one in particular.

“Did that just work?”

The moment you agreed to the date, all hell broke loose.

“WOOOOOO!” Dustin shot up from his seat like a firework. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Gareth banged a plastic fork against his tray like it was a gong. “Get it, Munson!”

Mike, ever the realist, just shook his head with a smirk. “She’s way out of your league, man.”

Jeff added dryly, “I think she just asked you out, technically.”

Eddie threw his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, calm down, you gremlins! You’re embarrassing me in front of my date.”

Dustin grinned. “You embarrassed yourself, dude. We’re just the backup dancers.”

You stood up slowly, collecting your tray with easy grace, as if you hadn’t just turned Eddie Munson into a walking heart-eye emoji in front of half the cafeteria.

As you passed behind him, you casually reached out, fingers threading through a few curls at the back of his neck, tugging lightly, just enough to make him sit up straighter.

Your hand drifted forward, fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw with the softest tease of a caress.

“See you at seven, Eddie.”

And just like that, you walked away, cool, unbothered, radiant.

Eddie was left blinking at the air you left behind, looking like he’d just astral projected. He turned slowly back to the table, eyes wide and slightly unfocused.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

“Did that really just happen?” He looked around. “You guys saw that, right?”

Dustin patted his shoulder solemnly. “We saw, buddy. We all saw.”

Gareth nodded. “You okay? You look like you got hit with a charm spell.”

Eddie just stared into the distance, a soft, stunned smile curling on his lips.

“I think I’m in love.”

Part Two Follow Up: "Error 404: First Date Loading"

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! @justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee, @micheledawn1975, @fckyeahlames, @cantstandya2000, @totallysocially

Masterlist

[catherinnn]

Guilty as Sin

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

a blurb where Hopper catches you two in the middle of a cozy night at Lover's lake.

warnings: very smutty but (unfortunately) they can't get to anything.

masterlist

It was the middle of the night. Lover’s lake was practically empty since it was a Thursday night. But Wayne had interrupted your plans with your boyfriend when he announced that he had the day off and planned on watching a marathon of those really old movies he loves so much until he fell asleep on the couch. So the idea of watching some slasher with Eddie until getting bored and started making out was out of the question. Hence, plan B: parking at Lover’s lake to smoke, star-gaze and then a make-out session. 

You were currently in the back of the van, sat on Eddie’s lap, french-kissing him. 

His hands grab onto your waist like a dog to a bone. Your hands tangle in his hair and pull on it every so often like you know he loves. 

It isn’t until he starts to move your hips ever so lightly back and forth that it gets messy. 

You remove the leather jacket off of him, his hands get out of the sleeves to now grab your hips as if he wanted to leave marks. Tongues dance together as if it was a tango. 

Eddie was very talkative during sex usually. But there are times, like this one, where he just got lost in the moment, in your touch, in your body, and stayed quiet. Paying so closely attention to every single detail of you, that form sentences would just interrupt him.

He moves your skirt upwards to slide his hands under it and grab two handfuls of your cheeks. Moving you easier now to grind your clothed sexes together. The kiss gets even messier somehow. You lift his shirt and suddenly decide it’s getting in the way too much, so you take it off of him and throw it beside you two. 

He stops kissing your lips to move lower. One thing about Eddie is that he loves to mark you up. So his lips cling to your neck like ivy and you whisper your moans and whimpers in his ear. He keeps moving your hips to his liking. Back and forth and pushing them down harder to feel more friction. 

You can feel how your underwear gets wetter and wetter, just like he can feel his pants getting tighter and tighter. 

He nips and sucks and licks and kisses your neck with no mercy, like a lion to its haunt. 

Both of you so lost in each other that you don’t even hear the footsteps around the van. That is until a bright light is directed at both of you, scaring you and blinding you in a matter of seconds. 

“What the fuck?!” Eddie shouts, startled. And when your eyes get –kind of– used to the light, you are able to see Hopper standing there. 

“What the hell are you two doing here so late?” He asks tiredly and you get off of your boyfriend to sit next to him now, he still grabs you as if this was just a momentary interruption.

Eddie sighs. “If I said we were just talking, would you believe me?”

Hopper just looks at him unimpressed.

“Well, we were! just… quite a few minutes ago” Eddie adds.

“Kids, this is a public place, I can’t allow you to stay here and do this with no mind” 

“Oh come on, Chief! it’s called Lover’s Lake for a reason. Just give me 30 minutes and we’ll be out of here” Eddie tries to negotiate. 

“30 minutes?” Hopper bursts out laughing. “What will you do with 25 minutes of spare time after you’re done?” 

“What-?” Eddie rolls his eyes at the teasing and you have to bite down your giggle.

“You running some kind of scam, Munson? Cause I don’t see how else you landed a girl like her with this van and that hair of yours” he teases. 

That actually does make you chuckle. 

“Hop, buddy, be honest with me, we know each other well enough. Are you just jealous? When was the last time you got frisky in a van? Huh? I should lend you the keys sometime” Eddie mocks him too. 

“Alright, kid. You’re starting to piss me off. Put your shirt back on and get going. Go climb her window while her parents sleep or something, i don’t care” 

You try to get up to leave but Eddie’s hands on you tighten to stop you before you can even move forward. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re kicking us out or whatever, but can we just take a second to appreciate the romance here? I mean, I parked the van under the stars with a perfect view of the lake. It’s practically poetic, man” 

You don’t even know why he keeps trying to fight with Hopper. 

“I’m tearing up, kid. Now get the hell out” 

“Let’s just go, Eds” you tell him. 

“Damn it, I get it! Public indecency and all that. But shouldn’t the police be more concerned with, I dunno, actual crimes? Rather than two –hot– consenting adults getting cozy?” he keeps rambling.

“Alright, what do you think? Should I be concerned about drugs being dealt in school instead?” Hopper throws at him.

“Alright! we’ll get out of here, officer” Eddie quickly catches the hint and gets up.

[cosmal]

diced

content eddie munson x reader

summary you slice your hand cutting limes. the kitchen hand you fancy, patches you up.

note woah aerial is back! this is an old blurb that i decided to finish. it's not that big but i thought i'd get it out! can't wait to write some more stuff xx

You try not to create a mess, and you try not to cry, and you try not to pass out. How could such a tiny cut produce so much blood?

You push through the swinging door out the back and almost bump into Eddie. Holding your bloodied hand in the other, you squeeze hard enough to pinch the torn skin. You're too focused on keeping your blood to yourself, the extra pressure doesn't faze you.

You can feel Eddie behind you and hope he's not watching you as you fiddle with the taps. They're old and missing their red and blue markings. You mess with them until the temperature is right and try not to smear red everywhere.

“Shit,” you curse and feel the beginnings of hot tears prick at your waterline. “So stupid.”

“Baby,” Eddie’s familiar nickname for you comes in quick and breaks the ringing in your ears, “fuck, what happened?” He stands behind you and presses his shoulder into yours. He smells of grease and sauteed onion.

“I was,” you swallow. Your throat dry with an upset you can tell is way out of your control now. You really hate blood. “I was cutting limes and slipped.”

The water stings, but not as bad as the lime juice did. The first tear still falls down your cheek and you wipe it away with your shoulder.

“How deep?” He says, firmer than you’ve ever heard him. He walks off around the corner and you don’t want him to. He comes back with the first aid kit. “Can I see it?”

You nudge the tap closed and turn to face him. You can’t look at the cut lest you feel even more queasy than you do now. You sense your skin is a few shades lighter than normal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie tuts. His sweet affections are always enough to make you feel better. However right now you think the deep slice in your finger is enough to distract you from the way he makes you feel. “C’mon, let’s go sit.”

You follow Eddie through to the corridor and try your best to not focus on the dull throbbing in your finger. You can feel blood trickling down into your palm, your other hand interlocked with Eddie’s, unable to wipe the hot mess of tears on your face.

He sits you on a milk crate, plopping down on another opposite you, and balances your diced hand on his knee. You worry for his new corduroys but there’s a line of tomato puree up the front of them that looks as though it’ll stain just as worse.

“Are you okay?” He wraps a clean bar towel around your hand and squeezes. Your hand feels like it’s on fire. You feel stupid. You've barely said a word but you’re okay with Eddie bossing you around a bit.

You swallow and blink, and worry your cheeks are marred with mascara. “Yeah,” you cough, and feel a little inept. “Thank you Eddie, I think I was on autopilot for a second there.”

“It’s okay,” he laughs. It’s a distracting sound. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I really hate blood.” You suck a sharp breath through your teeth and turn your head away while Eddie fixes you up.

You close your eyes and let Eddie take care of you. You wonder if you’d put up with another bloodied hand for him to touch you like this again. He apologises every time you wince, even though you’re being entirely dramatic, and wipes the left over tears and smudged mascara when he done patching you up.

He squeezes your knee when he’s done and kisses you over your bandage. “All done,” he chirps. “Good job.”

You laugh and kiss him on the cheek. “You’re too kind.”

“You gonna be okay to shake a martini with that bandaged hand?”

You giggle. “Martini’s are stirred, Ed’s.” His face drops. “No wonder you’re in the kitchen.”

“I’d like to see you cook a steak.”