Tumgik
#Eddie munson fanfic
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
eddie x reader
a follow up to this prompt by @rebelfell
2.6k
tw: angst, smut, minors fuck off pls teasing? is that a trigger idk.
“we need to talk.” the conversation we’ve been waiting for after you catch your best friend getting head finally unfolds
“We need to talk.”
Your blood ran cold, ice in your veins it was practically prickling your skin. The heat on your cheeks bloomed and your gut quaked at the sight of him, covered. 
Play dumb! It’ll work! 
“I , m-mean, now?— like right now? You have cum- company! a guest— we can talk later, yeah?” 
The stuttering, calmly hands and the sweat gathered under your arms— you were a one woman walking circus, missing the clown nose.  
“Why are you being so weird?” He leans into your doorframe, tattooed arms cross over his broad and glistening chest. 
The flush still in his cheeks almost brought you to your knees, but it was the single flick of his tongue on his lips that had you melting and wishing he had licked your lips instead. Fuck.
“… besides, you already interrupted my guest, so she left—”
Your ears perk up at the mention of said whore leaving your apartment, and your eyelashes bat open, “she left? Why?” 
Eddie huffs and puts his tongue in his cheek like he can’t believe you’re being so stupid. 
“Cut the shit, okay? Will you just be an adult for a second?” 
The smile on your lips falls and you take a step back towards your bed setting your keys down on the nightstand. The silence is anything but quiet. The energy was chaotic and shooting like daggers much like Eddie’s eyes into yours.
“Well?” he asks dramatically, raising his eyebrows to try to get you to speak.  
Play dumb— it’s working! 
“Well what?” you muse innocently. 
“What the fuck was that?” Eddie spits, any softness he brought into this situation had fizzled—dead at the door. 
“I—”
“Forget how to knock?” 
“No—”
“Suuuure, you just thought you’d what? Barge in, ignoring our code?” 
“I didn’t—-there was no hot water! You forgot to pay the water bill!”
“That’s not how water bills work.”
You stand stunned— mouth open to argue but nothing will even come out.
“It’s the water heater for this shitheap building that’s out— if you don’t believe that I paid the bill—call the water company yourself.” 
“…oh.” your voice is small, quiet almost unheard. 
“Wow, really great apology.” 
“Oh relax! Just call her back and explain it was a mistake, who cares? She shouldn’t be so uptight.” 
Eddie is fuming, blood rushing to his head as he tries not to yell out right. But fuck you were being so difficult.
“Ya know… I didn’t say shit when you had Harrington tied to your bed posts and you couldn’t undo the knots— did I? Nope—not a fucking word, I just cut him loose and acted like nothing ever happened!”
You wince, who knew knots were that hard to unlace?
“That was different!” 
“Or the multiple times I caught the fuckin’ Chief slipping out of your room at 5 AM? I even bummed him a cigarette for his morning coffee!” 
Your jaw hung to the floor, you didn’t know Eddie had any idea that you’d been sleeping with Hopper. 
“So? What—we’re just airing out dirty laundry now?” you could be venomous too, your rattle sounding off ready to strike. 
“How many months did you try gettin’ into Mary’s pants before you dumped her because she’s married to Jesus Christ her Lord & Savior? Her name is Mary for fucks sake! Not hard!”
His face pulls to anger, “don’t be a bitch!” 
“And where’s Gareth? Never see him around anymore, maybe it’s because you ran over his d—.” 
“That was an accident! I honked and he never moved!” 
“He was deaf Eddie!” you yell back into his face, “or! How about the time I had to pick you up from the Hideout because you got so drunk you pissed your pants?” 
“That was YOU!” 
The two of you were standing nose to nose, shouting accusing each other of shit that didn’t even matter. Eddie had your back and you’d have his until the end. Cradle to the grave. 
But this was different, you weren’t fighting like siblings or friends, you were both screaming as if you were in pain. 
He’s the first to move, shaking his head and turning towards the door. when he speaks his voice is low, angry.
“When my door is shut don’t open it—turn your ass around and fuck off, got it?” 
His words split your skin, vining through your body like sharp thorns. The hot spill of tears were welling in your eyes. 
“Sorry to bother you, asshole— won’t happen again.”
He’s on the opposite side when you slam your door in his face. The rain brewed and stewed and finally was ready to fall from the clouds in your eyes. 
Why were you acting like this? 
Grabbing your keys you set to leave again, needing an escape so he couldn’t hear your wailing cries. But again— when you opened the door, he was still standing there, only this time he looked pissed. 
“Move.”
He brushes you off as if he didn’t even hear you, “enough.”
“Eddie, get out of the way!” 
“Do you know how many nights I listened to you fake it for this fuckheads?” How long 
I’ve waited for you to admit it?” 
He shuts your door behind him as he pushes his way inside. 
“Admit what?”
“C’mon, baby— we haven’t been friends for a long time, not really.” 
You’re confused and on the verge of tears, “what?!”
Eddie presses forward, head tilted down at you.
 “Those douchebags you bring here can’t handle you the way I know you need…coming home to see their boots by the front door makes me absolutely despise you.”
“Who gives a shit? I trip over skanky high heels sometimes too.”
You were missing the point he was trying to make, way over your head. 
“Never satisfied when they leave…that little vibrator in the top drawer is not as quiet as you think it is.”
You were throbbing, aching… how did he know? 
He inches forward, and you double back towards the door.
“I—”
“Pretty little moans on your lips just minutes after they leave…‘m not stupid sweetheart, I know you do it on purpose— parading around the apartment in your little shorts, never wearing a bra… you’re a tease.” 
He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be! Right?
“I hate you, Eddie.” 
He stalks forward like a predator eyeing its prey, a stupid smirk on his face. 
“No— No I don’t think you do. I think you’re so fucking wound up about me, jealous... It’s alright, I get it. I bury myself in bitches so you’ll get out of my head.”
He takes a ragged breath, his eyes pitch dark, and your back hits the door, he closes in around you, his arms on either side of your head. 
“I fucking hate you, princess. I hate that it doesn’t work.. you’ve made me jealous for too fucking long.”
Your body was screaming, angel and devil on your shoulder dancing and holding hands rooting you on. 
“H-how long?”
His hand falls to your chin, pulling down your bottom lip.
“Senior year. Hellfire. You laughed at one of Jeff’s stupid fucking jokes and my blood ran cold. I wanted you to look at me like you looked at him. That was just the first time I realized I wanted you.”
You shudder, fingers running along his chest, playing with the chain on his neck, “why not say anything?”
“Didn’t wanna ruin this.” 
His lips nearly touch yours, he’s leaning in so close. And you don’t pull away. 
“I think it’s pretty clear that our friendship is over, Eddie. I fucking hate you.” 
“I hate you, too sweetheart.” 
The tension is thick, spinning with bated breath and sexual desire. 
“So, we hate each other?”
“Yep.” Eddie muses, angling your chin so he can see your neck. 
“…and we aren’t friends?” 
He nods silently, pressing his nose to your cheek, “seems to be that way.” 
“You’ve ruined everything.”
“Good,” he all but whispers into your ear. 
“..a perfectly good pair of underwear.” 
His breath hitches in his throat, and he licks his lips. “Can’t have that.” 
“No, not at all,” you tease, thumbing at your waistband and letting your shorts hit the floor.
He steps back to examine you with wide eyes, letting them narrow as he bites his lip, looking you dead in the eyes. 
“I’m gonna fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.” 
Pulling him back into you by his chain necklace you ask centimeters from his lips, tasting the heat from his mouth, “what are you waiting for?” 
He takes a deep breath, hovering his mouth over yours, “nothing, not anymore.”
His tongue hits you first, electric like an eel on your lips, his breath hot as fire. You moan out when his hands grip your ass, pulling you into him with such force you could have toppled over. 
Eddie is loud too. Groaning with each swipe of your tongue against his. 
“Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, baby.” 
His dick is pressed into your middle, hard and kicking up as your hands reach into his hair, pulling you closer to him as if he were a rope and you were climbing a mountain. 
He pulls you away from the door to get a quick slap to your ass. Rough and hard and you’re mewling, his rings stinging your skin. 
Your lips close to his ear you whisper “Eddie… please.”
He pulls away after leaving a mark on your neck. 
“You don’t have to beg, I’ll give you whatever you need, however many times you want it, honey.”
His fingers dip into your waistband around your hips as he slides your panties down to your thighs.  “Let me see that cunt, show me what I did to you.” 
You step out of your panties and he lowers himself to the floor on bent knees. “Jesus Christ, look how pretty she is, ‘m gonna eat this pussy till you cum all over my face.” 
You nod dumbly, body on fire from his words, the lust of having his hands touch you in places he never had, places you dreamt he would, has your mind spinning. 
His bangs tickle your inner thighs, breath fanning on your clit, thumbs spreading you open. He sucks in a breath, whistling low.
A single flick of his tongue— that’s all it takes for your eyes to roll, for your back to bend in an arch like you were being exorcized of hell’s worst demons. Your fingernails scratching into the door trying to anchor yourself from grinding on his face until his nose broke. 
He spits, watching it drip down to your cunt, “don’t ask me to stop.” 
Diving in, his tongue is everywhere. Lapping you up, sucking your clit into his mouth. Swirling around like you would while eating an ice cream cone. Your chest heaves and your thighs tremble as he hooks one over his shoulder pressing into him and he gently pushes it back into place, his eyes never leaving your body. 
When it happens again, he shoves it down with force, nipping at one of your thighs, his lips shiny and wet he groans, “keep ‘em put.” 
The tip of his middle finger pushes into you, and you squeak out a gasp, leaning forward off the door to take a look at him, and he nearly laughs, “jesus, you’re tight sweetheart, gonna need to work you up a bit.” 
He smiles before attaching his mouth to your thigh, sucking a bruise as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a second that’s easier than the first. Your body rolls with his motions, pushing back against him and you know your orgasm is about to snap.
His tongue replaces his fingers and the heat in your stomach releases, untying the white knot and spilling over his lips as you scream out his name. 
“Thatta girl, fuck look at you, Christ.” 
Your eyes open, a strange drunk feeling taking over, as if you were high on a cloud and falling gracefully back to the earth. Opening to see the blackened eyes of the guy you’ve called your best friend for years, and if you would have known his tongue could do that, maybe you would have ruined this friendship a lot sooner.
“Fuck off Munson,” you mutter, out of breath as your foot gently sets on the ground.
“What?” he laughs.
“Just keeping the fact that you eat pussy better than the devil all to yourself huh? Selfish.”
His face splits into a grin laced with evil as he stands, licking his lips, “that’s not all I can do.” 
He’s on you in a flash, hoising you up into his arms, and using the other to hastily shove his boxers down. “Can’t go back after this.” 
“Oh this is the tipping point? Fucking is gonna ruin it not you just making going down on me?” 
He rolls his eyes as he lines himself up with you, “what happened to that sweet girl I used to chase in the trailer park, huh?” 
You reach around your legs and grab his thick cock and lightly sink down onto it the head barely pushing past your puffy lips, “fuck…met a boy who grew up and started selling weed out of his van, kind of an asshole, really big dick though.”
He thrusts up into you so hard you nearly see black, vision spotty from pleasure alone, you whine his name and he practically comes undone.
“Don’t.. shit… don’t do that, I won’t last. Those noises haunt me… been wanting to hear them.”
He holds you tight and fucks you slowly, dragging his cock at a ridiculously slow speed. Groaning when you suck him in deep, biting his neck. 
“There it is, the noise that started this whole mess.” 
He grins into you stupidly, “I’m glad you’re perverted plan worked, you little hussy.” 
His hips move faster and your both whining, accompanied by the slapping of skin on skin. “Water heaters’ been out since last week, ‘m not stupid babe, you’re the one who called and asked.” 
“Whoops— oh my goddd,” you squeal before you're panting like a dog and clawing his arms with your nails, he was splitting you wide open and you were near to tears. 
The tears finally fall when Eddie bottoms out in your cunt, filling you up, grunting your name as he rests his forehead to your shoulder— completely spent. 
His lips kiss your collar bone and you twirl a curl away from his face exhausted around his softening length. 
“Princess,” he breathes, kissing life back into himself with the sweat from your skin, “if you wanted to fuck, you should have told me sooner, could have saved us a week of cold showers, y’know?” 
You kissed his lips, letting him set you down on the bed so you could both lay back in a lazy post sex high, surrounded by your blankets. 
“Well maybe you should have fixed it sooner, you are the maintenance manager of the building.”  
Eddie grins and pins you onto the mattress, his hair falling into your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheeks to catch a rogue eyelash, “come with me to fix it?” 
“Hmm..” fingers moving his hair behind his ear, “you gonna wear that slutty stained white tank top?” 
“Slutty? Why, gonna seduce me in the boiler room?” his lips move down your neck and you whimper. 
“Maybe…” you tease tickling his underarm, “so if I wouldn’t have barged into your room… what else would you have done?” 
Eddie only smiles, thinking of his plan to “break” the air conditioner and hide your hoodies and blankets so you’d have to come to him for warmth. 
“Let’s just say, you would have ended up as my girl one way or another.” 
steve tied up in readers room
Tumblr media
taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r
589 notes · View notes
strangersmunsons · 1 day
Text
Eddie goes shopping with you. eddie munson x gn!reader, ~900 words
“Okay, now what do you think of this?” You hold out a crisp white button-down shirt.
“I think that’s great,” he says automatically. 
“Eddie,” you sigh impatiently, “you’ve said that about every article of clothing we’ve seen today. I need like, an actual opinion.”
“That is an actual opinion.” He sounds offended that you might suggest otherwise.
“C’mon, I’m trying to look professional! You gotta help me.”
“I am helping!” Eddie holds up both arms to emphasize his point — he’s laden with bags from the stores you hit earlier in your shopping venture, weighed down with the new clothes you’re purchasing so as to better look the part for your new job.
A small giggle escapes you in spite of your exasperation. “I told you you don’t have to carry any of those,” you remind him, folding your arms across your chest.
Eddie scoffs. “And what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you haul this crap around all day?” He shakes his head, dark curls tumbling about his soft face. “No way. Wayne raised me right, thank you.”
“Well, that he certainly did,” you admit, a rush of affection warming your chest. Unable to help yourself, you reach out and pinch his little cheek between your thumb and index finger.
He pouts at the gesture, pretending to be annoyed; but really, a thrill shoots through him at the brief moment of contact. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for you to be touching him always. 
But it’s not like that. Not for you two.
Eddie tells himself that it’s okay, that he’s accepted it, he’ll content himself with daydreams and fantasies as he always has —
“Do you think black looks classier, though?” You’ve turned back to face the clothing rack again, thoughtfully fingering the silky fabric of a dark shirtsleeve. Your eyes narrow. “Or is it almost too formal?”
Eddie blinks dazedly, then shrugs. “I dunno. I wear black all the time, no one’s ever put me up for best dressed.” He frowns. “I suppose it’s a little different when it’s a Metallica t-shirt, though.”
You poke him playfully. “Or ripped jeans.”
Eddie swats your hand away, heart leaping.
You snicker in response, then soften. “For the record, I do like the way you dress. It goes with your whole thing, y’know?” You motion towards him vaguely, hands waving up and down his figure.
“My thing?”
“Mmhmm,” you hum. “The hair, the attitude, the music. Even your name. The whole thing.”
“What does my name have to do with any of that stuff?”
You shift your weight from foot to foot as you think about how to word your answer, tongue poking ever so slightly out of your mouth — an unconscious imitation of the face Eddie often makes when he’s focusing. He swoons a little when he realizes that you’re picking up some of his habits.
“I mean, if I didn’t know who you were, and someone told me to pick out the guy named Eddie Munson from a crowd of a hundred people, I could do it like that,” you tell him, snapping your fingers on the last word. “No one has ever looked more like they should be named Eddie Munson than you.” Your eyes cut over to his. “Does that make sense?”
Bewildered, Eddie’s eyebrows have shot up so high they’ve all but disappeared under his bangs. “…kind…of?”
You pat his shoulder, amused. “Don’t worry about it. Just look at the shirt.”
Obediently, his gaze flits back to the top. You smile expectantly, and he works to offer some sincere judgment. 
“Um, it looks comfier than the white one? Not as starchy.”
You nod sagely. “True.” You examine it more closely, a flicker of uncertainty clouding your features. “Do you think it’d look okay on me?”
Of course he does. He thinks you look nice in everything. In your pajamas, in your dressiest formalwear — it doesn’t matter. He never wants to hold you any less. To him, you’ve always the most beautiful person in the world. Whatever you happen to put on your body is irrelevant.
But this is the whole point of him accompanying you; he practically begged for you to let him tag along, swearing that it would be fun and that he’d help you. You’d been a smidge embarrassed at first, certain he’d grow impatient with your indecisiveness and bored with the constant vanishing into dressing rooms, but you seem comfortable now, letting him tote your bags around and asking for his advice. He hopes you’ll take him again next time, and then the next time, and then again after that…
“Yes, I do. I think you’d look really wonderful,” he finally answers. “You look incredible in everything you wear. Honest. You don’t need to worry about anything you buy today.”
Your eyes shine, a bashful smile spreading across your lips. “Really?”
“Of course,” he replies, face reddening. “You — you could wear a potato sack and make it look good, frankly.”
You laugh. “Yes, I’m sure that would be very flattering on me.”
“Hey, I think you could rock it.” He knows you think he’s teasing you, but he means it. And he’ll tell you again, and again, and again, until you believe him.
He’s got nothing but time.
232 notes · View notes
neonghostlights · 2 days
Text
Series masterlist
Part Four
Eddie had never seen it storm so bad.
That was a lie, but this storm did make it seem like all the storms he had weathered before were nothing but the sprinklers in front of the fancy yards on Maple Street.
The van rocked as a potentially hard gust of wind blew through and he had the to grit his teeth and grip the steering wheel with both hands as tried to keep the van steady.
He flicked on the flashers, waiting until he could see where he was going before pulling the van off to the side of the road to wait out the weather.
He had been driving for an hour and a half. He had probably two to three more hours to go according to the bored gas station attendant when he stopped to buy a soda and some chips.
It was hard to believe it was only noon with how dark the sky looked.
Eddie thought about what you might be doing, how your classes might be, and if you ever found yourself thinking about him.
Eddie wouldn’t even mind if your thoughts of him involved cursing his name, he would be happy just to be on your mind at all.
Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. Eddie had always laughed when Wayne said those words but now he knew.
He rested his head back on the seat, letting the sound of the wind and rain drown out his thoughts as he drifted off to sleep.
It was the sound of a blaring horn as a tractor trailer flew past the van that jolted him awake.
He had only been asleep for half an hour but it was a deep enough sleep that made him wake disoriented.
He rubbed his eyes, shaking off the sleep with a few nods of his head.
The rain had subsided enough that he could drive safely again towards you.
He turned the wheel left, pressed on the gas, and the van stalled as the engine died out.
Eddie turned the key over and over, waiting for it to come back to life miraculously but no such luck.
Eddie screamed a curse as he hit the steering wheel repeatedly with his palms until they ached.
He wasn’t going to make it to you.
“You gotta know when to quit, Ed’s.”
He followed your voice to where you sat in the passenger seat, feet propped on the dash and a notebook in your lap.
It was the last day of his first senior year that had ended in failure and he had been in a foul mood.
“So you agree that I should quit school all together,” he said in the memory and you rolled your eyes at him before flicking the notebook shut.
“No,” you drawled like it was obvious. “You gotta know when to quit beating yourself up. Don’t you think you’ve had enough? Give yourself a break.”
Memory him scoffed.
“I’m serious. Maybe this is all part of a bigger plan,” you said in a hushed tone.
“What plan is that?”
You hummed and popped a piece of gum in your mouth.
“I don’t know the plan. Maybe you were supposed to fail this year. Maybe it’s all part of your fate,” you said.
“Fate?”
“Yeah. Like maybe this hiccup in the road is keeping you from something else for a reason…”
Eddie frowned and rested his head against the steering wheel as he drowned at the memory.
“I don’t like her,” his girlfriend muttered quietly from where the sat on the couch in Steve’s living room.
“Who?” Eddie asked, genuinely confused because why wouldn’t she like any of his friends.
“Her,” she said, pointing to you.
You looked over at Eddie and smiled, wiggling your cup in the air at him.
Eddie’s brain short circuited.
You were laughing with Robin, minding your own business. He couldn’t possibly think of anything you could have done to make her not like you.
Hell, you two had barely spoken once and that was when he awkwardly introduced you.
“Why not?”
She shrugged, sipping on her drink. Eddie played it off, not thinking anything of it as he drank his own drink and stumbled upstairs with his girl later that night.
Fucking idiot.
“Like I said,” your voice whispered in his ear, “you gotta know when to quit.”
Eddie Munson walked the miles it took to get to the gas station, where he picked up a pay phone and called Wayne to come rescue him.
He didn’t come to you like a knight in shining armor. He didn’t grovel at your feet.
He did the only thing he was brave enough to do, which was go home and lie to his girlfriend about where he was.
And hope that whenever you came home from school he would be able to catch a glimpse of you.
——-
The end .
222 notes · View notes
rebelfell · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media
A li’l self-indulgent bestfriend!eddie fluff. Reader w/ boobies.
Tumblr media
Eddie’s not a total pig, okay?
He can control himself just fine when necessary. He’s fully capable of maintaining a conversation without his brain short circuiting at the sight of something that makes all the tiny Eddie’s in his head run around like chickens with their heads cut off. That is…except for right now.
Because right now there are boobs in front of his face. And not just any boobs. Your boobs.
“Eddie!” You huff loudly and drop your shirt. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
He blinks a few times, reluctantly coming out of his daze to look up at you and the appalled frown on your face. His cheeks burn with his humiliation and his mouth falls open as he stammers through his attempt to recall what you just said.
You roll your eyes, sighing all heavy and petulant as you climb off his bed.
“Hey!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up to really sell the ruse of being offended. “You’re the one whipping out your bits all willy nilly. Can’t exactly expect me to concentrate.”
Over your shoulder you fix him with a glare and snatched up one of his Hellfire figurines to chuck it at him. The freshly painted figure ricocheted off his elbow as he threw his arms up in front of him, fighting back giggles as you scolded him.
“I came to you for advice, not to be ogled!”
Well, that was your first mistake, Eddie thought to himself. Because when it came to you there was no scenario that didn’t involve ogling.
“I’m sorry. Okay? I…I got distracted. But that’s what you’re going for, right? Weren’t you asking if they look good?”
“It’s not about whether they look good, I just…I need to know if they look even.”
Even? Even, how? Even more fucking incredible than normal? Even more mouth-watering? Even better than what Eddie’s been imagining more and more over the last few years.
“Even, how?” he asks.
“Like…normal.” You groan. “He says one of them is way bigger and I thought maybe this one would minimize the problem.”
“Problem?” Eddie snorted. “There’s not a single fucking problem with them.”
You roll your eyes at him again, but it’s not quick enough to hide the smile that started to blossom on your lips when he says that. Eddie’s bed frame squeaks in protest as he hops off the bed and comes to stand in front of you, solemn and serious in a way he almost never is.
“Sweetheart…they’re perfect.”
You’re perfect, he wants to say.
A little pride creeps into your voice as you tilt your head gently and glance briefly down at your own chest before looking back at him.
“Really?”
“Really, really. Literally, maybe, definitely, the greatest ones I’ll ever see in my life.”
A laugh bubbles out of his chest and you honestly feel like you’re going to melt into the carpet under your feet. And suddenly you can’t remember for the life of you why you even bothered with this other guy in the first place.
Because the guy you bought this stupid fancy bra for has never called them, or anything on you for that matter, perfect. And he’s never looked at you the way Eddie is looking at you.
You bit down gently on your bottom lip, absently walking your fingers along the edge of Eddie’s dresser, scratching at the chipped paint.
“Do you, um…do you think you got a good enough look?”
298 notes · View notes
joejoequinnquinn · 9 hours
Text
Head Over Heels
Tumblr media
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5k
Summary: 🔞 18+ ONLY. There do be smut. Friends to Lovers, Jealous Eddie, smutty behaviour in several forms, oral, unprotected p in v (don’t do this!)
Hope you enjoy!
REBLOGS WILL HELP TO HEAL THIS BROKEN LITTLE SOUL BY SHARING THE FIC WITH OTHERS 🙏🏻
•••
•••
Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, head moving closer to the hinges of the closed cubicle door you’re currently hiding behind.
“It’s really not that bad, sweetheart”
“How?” You cry despondently “How is me exposing my ass to half of Hawkins not that bad?”
“Well…” he shrugs, shifting his weight to lean a shoulder against the brickwork “…because you’ve got a great ass”
There’s a solid CRACK as you hurl a shoe at the door with such force it rattles in its frame.
“Eddie! Oh my GOD!”
“What?! It’s true!”
“SHUT UP!”
“Okay okay, I’m sorry…” He’s lucky you can’t see the smirk that spreads across his face, because he knows damn well you’d beat the ever loving shit out of him if you did.
•••
•••
It had seemed a great idea at the time, the seed planting itself firmly in your mind as you dangled your feet into the pool and watched while every scantily girl that sauntered past the life guard tower to the diving board gained the undivided attention of Richie.
Richie had blonde hair just below his jawline that curled into ringlets which could rival any cabbage patch doll. A smattering of freckles were painted over the bridge of his nose, tanned skin under his lifeguard shirt making him look every inch the poster boy for a hot American summer.
As his suitors ascended the metal steps to the board, his gaze followed - even more so as their bodies stretched and elongated when they dove gracefully into the refreshingly cool water of the pool. They’d surface with a giggle, looking over towards him to receive their prize as they exited the pool - a toothy grin and if they were lucky, a wink, from the object of all their desires as they stalked back towards his chair, bodies glistening in the sunlight.
“Hey!” Eddie yelled, hand slapping the surface of the water to gain your attention, spray of cold droplets splattering your thighs “Earth to Miss Space Cadet!”
You shrieked and kicked your ankles, splashing him back furiously until he had to duck under the water to escape the torrent aimed in his direction. He resurfaced in front of you, tattooed chest pressed flush to your knees, arms folded over your thighs and a deep frown etched on his face.
“What do you want, goober?” You giggled, palm pushed to his face where he pretended to try and snap at your fingers with his teeth bared, making you choke on a snort of laughter.
“If you were listening, you’d know I was checking you were still cool to cover my shift next Friday?”
“Huh?” You sighed and glanced back over to Ritchie “oh, right, the store. Friday. No problem”
“Jesus, what’s so interesting over there?” Eddie turned and pressed his back flat against the edge of the pool, craning his neck so he could see what was stealing your attention.
“Oh god, you too? Him?!” He balked “You’re ignoring me for that guy?”
Eddie knew Ritchie from back in high school, didn’t like him then and doesn’t like him now - especially when you couldn’t stop staring that way when you were meant to be listening to him.
“Shut up, idiot!” you hissed “And I wasn’t ignoring you, I promise - but if you’ll excuse me real quick, I do have something I need to do…”
Scooping your feet out of the water, you tossed your sunglasses on top of your towel, straightened the straps of your two-piece bathing suit and decided to shoot your shot.
“Where are you go_”
Eddie huffed and watched dumbfounded as you set your sights on Ritchie, walking towards the lifeguard tower as if you were auditioning to be a catwalk model. He positively scowled as you lingered at the bottom of the station, and nearly spat burning flames of rage when he watched Ritchie do a double take, smirk at you and hop down off his perch, leaning right into your space.
Not just because you were his best friend and he hated seeing you turn into some doe-eyed, love sick fool at the hands of a cookie-cutter rich boy jock - but because you were his best friend and he was so utterly, hopelessly in love with you it made him despise himself.
Watching you bat your eyelashes and push your chest out that little bit more just for Ritchie’s benefit made Eddie want to vomit. Your head tipped back with a forced laugh, hand reaching to squeeze at his upper arm.
“Oh Ritchie, tsk tsk, I thought you worked out?” Eddie mimicked your voice to fill in his own version of a conversation he couldn’t hear.
“Sure that’s what i tell all you girls, but the truth is I suffer from a terrible condition called butthead-itis”
“Well, goodness, what does that mean?”
“Means you can squeeze this little bicep all you like honey, I’ll never be able to lift weights and build any decent muscle. Hell, I’m too weak to even hold a guitar - not like that super awesome musician friend of yours”
“You mean Eddie?”
“Yeah, hear he shreds guitar like a machine. Far better guy than I’ll ever be.”
“Hmm, now you mention it, he IS kinda cute, maybe i should just__oh shit, where the hell is she going?”
Eddie straightened up when he saw you walk away, looking back over your shoulder to Ritchie as you took the metal steps of the high dive one by one. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. You’re afraid of heights, they make you dizzy.
He hopped out of the pool but it was too late, all Eddie could do was watch through his fingers as you shuffled forward and made the terrible mistake of looking down. He saw the moment your legs gave way as you reached the end of the board, losing your footing and sending you toppling to the water below in the least elegant way possible. Shoulders down, arms flailing, ass up. Worse, still, was how the force of the impact to the water had pushed the bottoms of your two-piece bathing suit right down the tops of your thighs - exposing your very bare ass quite explicitly to absolutely everyone nearby.
Your faced had flamed with embarrassment even while still under the water, scrambling to cover yourself as you burst back through the surface a gasping, spluttering mess - a cacophony of raucous laughter ringing cruelly in your ears. It felt like that time you’d worn white pants to school and spilled grape juice on yourself at lunch, the whole cafeteria pointing and giggling. You would never live this down. Your shot with Ritchie had been well and truly blown.
Hot tears prickled at your eyes, blood whooshing in your ears as you barrelled towards the changing cubicles - registering Eddie only long enough to snatch your bundled up towel from his outstretched hands before slamming the door behind you.
•••
•••
Eddie has his back to the door now, towel hanging low at his waist, tucked around his hips. Eyes closed against the early evening sun, he tips his head back to soak up the last of the heat. Hearing footsteps scuff along the concrete, one eye squints open to see Jeff approaching with a knowing smile.
Jeff’s uncle runs the pool, so he’s trusted with the keys to lock up the premises once all the stragglers have finally vacated their sun loungers. The bundle jangles loudly as he spins them on one finger and launches them towards Eddie, everyone else flocking past to head home for the evening.
“She ever going to come outta there?” He nods to the door and Eddie shakes his head with a quiet chuckle.
“I’ll be honest with you, Jeff - it’s not looking good”
The pair exchange mischievous grins, both stepping close to the door.
“We might have to call the fire service to come knock the door down, she can’t stay in there, my uncle’s very strict about people being here after hours, Eddie.”
“I know, man, I know. Shit, we don’t want any trouble…hey, I might have a better idea - hand me that ‘in case of emergency’ axe over there, I’ll bust her out myself.”
“I can HEAR you both, you know!” You yell, belligerent as ever.
“We KNOW!” Their faces crack, laughter bursting from their chests and bleeding into your space under the small gap at the bottom of the door.
“Well…good!” Your arms cross over your chest, huffing in frustration “Because I’m not leaving this cubicle. Like, ever.”
Jeff rolls his eyes and pats Eddie on the shoulder, reminding him to double lock the gates when he finally leaves.
•••
Another half hour passes, sun shifting lower in the sky, now a sinking red ball bathing the empty poolside in pink and orange hues. Eddie’s ass cheeks are going numb where he sits on the ground, having failed in all previous attempts to convince your incredibly stubborn self to exit the cubicle.
“Alright, enough is enough.” He groans slightly as he gets to his feet, rattling the keys loudly to get your attention “If you’re not gonna come out, sweetheart, then i’m just gonna have to let myself in”
“I wish you luck with that!” You call, too cocky for your own good “Door’s locked, remember?”
“I have the master keys from Jeff. His uncle runs this place, remember?”
He smiles as he hears you curse, sifting through the keys until he finds the one he’s after. It clinks as he inserts the metal to the casing, forcing the lock open so he can swing the door open and step inside with an irritated huff of air leaving his nostrils.
“Don’t just come bursting in - I’m not decent!”
You’re sat on the wooden bench against the back wall, still in your swimsuit, small towel wrapped around your body preserving the rest of your dignity. Eddie’s eyes flit up and down as he glances at you. It truly is nothing he hasn’t seen before, but you can’t know how grateful he is that his towel is covering the area of his body that all blood flow has been redirected to.
“Y’look pretty decent to me”
He shrugs, winking at you deliberately.
“Stop doing that” You grumble, moving over to make a space for Eddie without him needing to ask.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to make me feel better about humiliating myself.”
Eddie snorts in disgust as he sits down, knee bumping your thigh in the cramped space.
“You still hung up on Ritchie? That guy is not worth shutting yourself away for, sweetheart, I mean it. He’s a fuckin’ ass.”
“Yeah yeah, you already said.”
Your eyes shine with a fresh wave of mortification, nails picking at the skin of your thumb the way they always do when you’re anxious. Eddie let’s out an exasperated sigh.
“Look, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, angel, but as soon as his shift was over he walked right out of here without a second thought. Had that god awful Kimberley on his arm - or was it Stephanie? Either way…that waste of oxygen wasn’t sticking around to check on you.”
“Alright, Eddie” you bristle, tugging the towel tighter around yourself “I get it - you don’t like him. You don’t like any of the guys that show an interest in me”
“Well, that’s not entirely true”
“If you say so…”
“It’s not.” He insists, elbows resting on his knees, turning his face closer as he makes a steeple with his fingers under his chin “Remember Gregory? I kinda liked Gregory…”
“Ahh - dear Gregory” you reminisce “My first real boyfriend. Dude never even had the guts to kiss me…”
“And that’s why he was my favourite.”
You snort out a laugh and nudge him hard in the ribs with your elbow. Eddie clambers to his feet, faking being mortally wounded as he staggers to the door claiming to need fresh air to heal his wounds, turning at the last moment to reach a hand back for you in dramatic fashion.
With a roll of your eyes, you gather your things and let the tips of your fingers be gripped by his big hand as he tugs you over the threshold of your safety net for the last few hours.
•••
Eddie follows behind you on the steps of the high dive, forcing himself not to stare directly at your ass cheeks as they hover inches from his face. His chest bumps into your back as you halt at the top, body curving around your shoulders as he reaches forward to grab the handrails.
“What’s the hold up, princess?”
“This was a really dumb idea…” you mutter, trying to back up but finding your path blocked by his solid frame, skin still warm from the day’s sun. You turn, finding yourself surrounded by Eddie in all directions, it catches you off guard - words dissolving on your tongue as coffee coloured eyes keep you rooted to the spot.
“No, it’s an excellent idea” his hands grasp your shoulders to spin you back round “…gotta exorcise those pool demons and get back on this board. C’mon, there’s no one to see you jump but me. And I don’t give two shits how you dive off this thing, as long as you fucking do it.”
“Eddie,” you plead “I can’t.”
“Want me to go first?” He drops his voice, chin resting next to your ear “Show you how it’s done?”
You can’t help but take a deep breath and give a silent nod of affirmation. Next thing you know, hands are splayed on your hips as he skilfully manoeuvres his body past yours to take a running leap off the board, cannonballing into the still water below with an epic splash.
“Your turn, no take backs!” He yells gleefully as he comes up for air, dimples visible even in the rapidly fading light.
Shaking your head, you screech as you run as fast as your legs will go until your body is plummeting through the air. There’s just time to tuck your legs in close as your body twists and you land flat on your back with a loud slap, water engulfing you entirely. You hear Eddie guffaw through your spluttering as you resurface.
“Well, maybe third time’s the charm, huh sweetheart?”
“Fuck you, Munson.” You cough, paddling to the pool edge and hauling yourself back out with a wince of pain “Told you it was a shitty idea.”
Eddie ignores you and clambers out of the water, dripping his way over to the storage near Ritchie’s lifeguard chair and forcing it open, returning with an armful of t-shirts. He systematically ties them in a ball and proceeds to hurl them into the deep end of the pool, much to your amusement. When he’s finished, he jumps back in and dunks them under again for good measure.
“Why do you hate him so much?” You muse, legs swishing back and forth while you watch the water’s surface ripple outwards.
Eddie stops what he’s doing to look back over his shoulder, hair flicking across his jaw with expression suggesting you’ve asked the dumbest question on Earth.
“You really need me to spell it out for you?”
“Yep” you pop the ‘p’ sound and slide into the water, flopping onto your back so you can float on the surface like a starfish.
“Besides being a rich jock who got an easy ride at school because of his Daddy, and made the lives of people like me more miserable than they deserved to be?”
“Besides that, yeah, ‘cause that description covers a lot of idiots we knew back then, Eddie. Why does Ritchie still make your nostrils flair every time you look at him?”
“Not every time” he mutters.
“Eddie…”
“Because”
“Because why?” With a splash, you stand upright and flick water in his direction. It hits him right between the eyes.
“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you’re like a dog with a fucking bone. You wanna know why? Fine.” He grits out, swiping a hand over his wet face in frustration “Because he gets everything he wants handed to him on a plate, always has - and I know that sounds like I’m just a bitter, jealous idiot…but he’s never had to work hard for a damn thing in his life, ever! Not his grades, not friends, not a job, not…girls”
There it is.
Your head tilts, interest piqued.
“Ooh. Which girls?”
“Does it matter?”
Shimmying your way through the pool, you close the distance until you’re close enough to see the faint pink flush that creeps across his chest.
“Which girls, Munson?”
He clears his throat and starts to reel off a list, counting names on his fingers. Girls he’d thought the sun had shone for but who’d never even look at him twice, yet fell at the feet of lover boy Ritchie time and time again.
“Amy Rodriguez, Sara Shakespear, Jessica Morrison, Sophia Hartman - and…”
“And…?” You urge, reaching to prod the flesh of his arm.
Eddie stops talking, eyes shifting to look up and over your shoulder with his jaw set. You follow his gaze, fixed on the diving board - and a sudden, crushing realisation punches the air from your lungs.
“…and me?” You whisper, turning back as he tilts his face to the sky, puffing out his cheeks and blowing out a long breath before lowering his head to meet your searching eyes.
“Yeah, sweetheart.” Hands on hips, he swallows hard “And you.”
“W-why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Honestly? I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t wanna screw things up, I guess.”
What happens next catches him completely off guard.
You start to laugh.
A loud, obnoxious cackle that starts from deep in your belly and bubbles up out of your chest like hot fudge sauce.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Why are you laughing?” He bristles, hurt by your reaction.
Hands covering your mouth, you compose yourself, swallowing the shock and moving closer through the water, hands reaching up to move damp curls off Eddie’s face with a tenderness that makes his chest ache with longing.
“What would you say if I told you that I really don’t enjoy swimming?”
Eddie frowns, tripped up by the sudden change of subject.
“I, uh…guess I’d ask why the hell you forced me to drive you here several times a week for the entire summer - and if you say it was just to drool over Ritchie, I swear to god_”
“Not Ritchie.”
“No?”
“No.”
You hold your breath, taking a final step forward and letting your fingers fall to trace over the ink on his chest.
“I only made you come here because I stupidly thought if I wore a new two-piece, maybe it might finally get you to look at me as more than just your weirdo friend. When you never even seemed to notice, I figured you just weren’t interested.”
It’s Eddie’s turn to snort out a laugh, round and full like his heart clattering against his ribs.
“You’re shitting me, right?”
You shake your head, smile shyly and crinkle your nose.
“You wore that…” he gestures enthusiastically between your bodies “…for me?”
Nervous teeth bite down on your bottom lip as you nod your head, feelings well and truly exposed.
“So, you won’t go running for the hills when I kiss you?”
“Only one way to find ou—“
Wet lips cut you off, pressing hungrily against yours. The chlorine from his skin is what you taste first, making way for the hint of tobacco and lingering sweet hit of the pack of twizzlers you shared earlier. The inviting warmth of his mouth takes over as Eddie gently coaxes your lips open with his tongue, desperate to explore.
Strong hands walk you backwards, caging you in against the poolside, heart thundering in your chest as you feel Eddie slot his thigh between yours - propping you up that little bit higher. He inhales your whimper and hums like he’s waited his entire life to taste you.
“I meant what I said earlier, you know” he mumbles against your lips “you really do have a great ass.”
“Jesus Christ, Eddie” you break away with a laugh, only for his hand to cup your jaw and guide your mouth back to his where he swallows your throaty groan without a second’s hesitation.
Eddie feels like someone shook a bottle of fizzy soda and buried it deep inside his chest - anticipation and heat bubbling uncontrollably, bursting their way to the surface at ferocious speed.
You lean into him, mewling as Eddie wraps one arm around your waist, the other sliding up between your shoulder blades, grip firm at the back of your neck while his tongue rolls over yours, licking his way around your mouth like he’s always belonged there. He kisses you until your head starts to spin from lack of oxygen, dizzying buzz heightening the thrill of having your legs wrapped tight around his hips, tugging his heat into yours beneath the water.
A flash of red and blue lights accompanied by the short burst of a siren is enough to tear you away from each other, ducking quickly below the surface as a patrol car coasts by. The last thing Eddie needs right now is Hopper messing up the chance he never thought he’d get with you.
“Come on” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple as he lifts himself out of the water and reaches back to urge you to follow him.
Warm summer air kisses at your skin while you find yourself led by the hand back towards the safety of the changing cubicles. Night is pulling a blanket of cooler air across the sky, but the heat between you and Eddie is far from diminished as he ushers you into the dimly lit area.
You turn, seeing Eddie’s rest his back against the now closed door, watching you as his hand comes up slowly to turn the lock. The sound of metal sliding against metal and clicking into place, shutting you away, has you biting on your lip so hard you nearly draw blood.
Eddie’s chest heaves, inked skin moving in hypnotic waves and drawing you closer. Pupils blown wide, he looks like he wants to tear you apart - feral and unhinged. It sparks the flame in your abdomen, heat gnawing at the spot between your legs again, trembling under his ravenous gaze.
You don’t have to think when he steps forward, letting his body slam into yours - you crave the contact. Eddie’s tongue licks across your bottom lip and you open for him immediately as he continues his exploration. Hands tangle in his hair to keep him close, feeling goosebumps prickle his skin from your touch. Warm palms grab at whatever part of you he can reach, fingers digging into your flesh in a way that makes you moan into his mouth for more. There’s barely time to register him undoing and removing the top of your swimsuit, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your bottoms seconds later encouraging you to wiggle free.
Eddie groans his approval - walking you backwards to the little bench, your legs buckling as they hit the wood. He slides down with you, mouthing hungrily at your neck until his knees rest on the floor, shoulder nudging your thighs open for him, hands pinning you in place with a growl so possessive it has you pulsing at your core.
“Shit, baby. Look at you.” His voice like gravel against your skin has you shivering in anticipation.
Eddie takes his time- warm lips pressing kisses up the inside of your thighs, nose pushed into the crease of your hip as he inhales every breath of you. Eyes closed when he savours the whimper you make at the way his tongue drags along your abdomen, circling your navel, chin grazing lower, lower until he holds your gaze and lays the softest of kisses directly to your clit.
The way his name stutters from your throat, raw and pleading, has Eddie moaning into your heat, vibrations knocking the air from your lungs. He gives in, then, the flat of his tongue tasting all of you he can reach - hot mouth devouring everything you offer. He teases your swollen bud mercilessly until your thighs begin to tremble and only then does he suckle at your clit like it’s his sole purpose in life - lips caressing and rolling, letting the pressure build until the dam is about to burst. Fingers desperately scrape against his scalp as you begin to fall apart, a few well timed shakes of his head making you choke on a string of cursed sobs.
Urging him back up between your thighs, you capture his mouth, stealing the taste of yourself from his tongue as you attempt to catch your breath.
“God, Munson, you’re good at that…”
“Not gonna lie, I’ve fantasised about doing that with you for so damn long I think I created some kind of muscle memory”
Eddie feels your fingers tuck into the waistband of his swim shorts, tugging them down and dragging him forward to sit on the bench, a comical ‘oof’ leaving him as he lands, such is your enthusiasm.
“My turn” You grin, eagerly licking your lips as your mouth fills with saliva from the sight of his dick springing free from its confines.
“Sweetheart, I really don’t know if I can have your mouth on me without exploding, and I have some standards to uphold here.”
Clicking your tongue off your teeth in disapproval, you shake your head and pout as you settle between his legs.
“Are you really going to deny me one little taste?”
A groan rumbles from deep in his chest.
“You’re gonna fucking kill me, angel, you know that?”
Eddie fists his aching cock for some relief, watching slack jawed as you plant your palms on his thighs, holding his gaze determinedly while leaning down to run your warm tongue over his leaking slit with a contented hum that ripples through every cell of his body.
“Fucking Christ…”
You feel yourself being grasped firmly under each arm, pulled up and forward into his lap with a squeak until you’re sat straddled over his thighs. Eddie’s dick sits flush to his stomach as he tugs you hard into him by the flesh of your ass, pussy throbbing as you grind against him with a whine.
Tender hands cup your jaw, bringing your lips together - open kisses and panting breaths. Eddie’s mouth attaches to the sweet spot on your neck, back arching into him as he sucks a purple bruise into your skin, soothing the spot with the flat of his warm tongue.
“Eddie…Eddie, please…”
“Take what you need, princess” he mumbles into your shoulder “I’m all yours”
“All mine?” You whine and shift your hips, sinking down with a whimper as Eddie stretches you in a way that sends tingles fizzing through your limbs.
A guttural moan leaves Eddie as you suck him in and squeeze him tight, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs so hard you know the marks are going to last into next week. You can’t move.
“G-give me a second” he begs, desperate to enjoy the consuming warmth of you just a little longer before he loses what little sanity he has left. You nod, dipping your chin to kiss him sweetly on the lips, pressing affectionate pecks to the corners of his mouth before gently tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth.
Eddie groans, and you begin to slowly roll your hips, savouring the way you can feel him everywhere from this angle. The way his cock strokes you in all the right places as you move quickly has you panting into his open mouth. Strong hands bring your waist down repeatedly to meet his upward thrusts, he’s bouncing you on his lap like it’s nothing and chanting your name like a whispered prayer. The air is thick with humidity, skin slick with sweat making you sticky, the friction heightening every tiny movement.
You’re close, so fucking close.
Eddie watches awestruck as gentle fingers stroke their way down your chest, pinching at your nipples, trailing your light touch down, down until you’re pressing soft circles to your clit - helping the coil tighten, free hand clinging to his shoulder as you start to writhe against him while you chase your high, walls pulsing as the strings snap and pleasure floods your body with a silent scream.
“That’s so fucking hot. Jesus, baby. Oh my god…shitshitshit”
His head falls back against the wall with a soft thud as he throbs uncontrollably and releases all he has inside of you with a moan you’d only ever dreamt of being able to pull from him.
Your face buries in the crook of Eddie’s neck, his curls sticking to your clammy forehead as your breathing comes fast and shallow. Lips rest on the skin of his neck, enjoying the tang of his sweat as the tip of your tongue licks gently below his ear. He doesn’t say anything, just holds you close and strokes the flat of his palm up and down your spine until his soul returns to his body.
“Hey” he murmurs, urging you backwards slightly so he can run his knuckles along your jaw.
“Hey…” you grin widely, endorphins making you giddy.
A lazy smirk curves his mouth, dimple revealing itself adorably.
“If I’d known you flashing your ass to everyone was going to lead to this, I’d have thrown you off the high dive myself weeks ago…”
“Fuck you, Munson” You laugh, high pitched and gleeful.
“Okay, fine, if you insist” He shrugs, mouthing at your still hard nipples “But I’m gonna need a minute to recover first…”
•••
•••
THANK YOU READING 🥰
Tagging some people who might possibly be interested? @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @trashmouth-richie @tomtomslongdong @songforeddiemunson @mrsjellymunson @josephfakingquinn @josephquinnsfreckles @guardurtongue @flawiette @mmunson86 @bettyfrommars @liminalpebble @ali-r3n @tlclick73 @powderblueblood @squigglebottom @eddiesxangel @harrywavycurly
260 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
I like to think Eddie is the type of person who will remember the tiniest little details about you all the time that you'll share when you think no one is really paying much attention. Yet he is all the time, and it catches you off guard. Out everyone in your life he always remembered.
He hands you a baggy full of just red and purple skittles. "I picked all of your favorite ones out— I know you said these were the only flavors you liked."
"Ed, I said that like a month ago... when we were all hanging out at Steve's."
Eddie shrugged "yeah so?" He shook the bag of candy in your face, "you gonna take'em or what?"
Tumblr media
230 notes · View notes
reysorigins · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media
daddy!eddie munson x reader (gn) ⟡ 18+ mdni !!
✦ daddy kink, piss kink, frottage, eddie holds reader ;
Tumblr media
Daddy!Eddie holding you late one night, tired after an evening get-together with friends. He carries you around like his little koala, your legs hitched over his waist, soft cheeks snuggled into his shoulder. You were sleeping so soundly, now suddenly restless, unable to sit still as he waves goodbye to Steve.
“Hey, angel,” Eddie coos, stepping onto the street beside the van. “You ready to go home? Tuck you in and read a story?”
You sigh, wishing you were in bed with him now, his soft voice soothing you to sleep with Lord of the Rings. You clench the back of his T-shirt, balling it tight in your little fist.
“Please, Daddy.”
“Oh, such good manners,” Eddie sings, tucking his smile in the curl of your hair. “You doin’ okay, baby? Jus’ tired?”
You can’t keep your eyes open, fidgeting slow on his narrow hips. “Gotta pee,” you admit, cheeks burning hot through his shirt in the slick summer heat.
Eddie stills, propping you up against the van, and cups your neck to press you closer. Rubbing his hips further into you, you feel his cock stir in his jeans, raising to life at the sound of your voice.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. You can piss on Daddy,” Eddie hums, rolling his hips on your cunt. “Daddy’s gotta go, too.”
You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his sweet curls, and moan soft in his ear. “Daddy…” You whine, nipples pert against his beating chest.
In the backlit view of the quiet street, you release your golden stream onto his slim, black jeans, letting him hike up your skirt to piss into your panties. Eddie rubs and rubs and rubs ’til you’re a squirming, creaming mess, giving all your icky fluids to Daddy.
“Thas’ a good baby,” he praises, rearing back to kiss your lips. He rises to full height, letting you stand on your own two feet as he unbuckles his crotch.
“Now go lay in the van,” Eddie pats your sweet pussy. “Daddy’s gonna clean you up.”
185 notes · View notes
corroded-hellfire · 9 hours
Text
The Bunny and the Hair - Eddie Munson x Reader
Tumblr media
Summary: All you want is a cute photo of your daughter in her bunny costume and a photo of the whole Munson family together. But nothing is simple when the children of Eddie Munson are involved
Note: Happy Easter! Thank you to my darlings @munson-blurbs and @offensiunculaee for helping me brainstorm ideas when the only thing in my head was Eliza dressed as a bunny 💕
Words: 1.2k
[As You Wish masterlist]
Tumblr media
“Aww, come on sweet pea. Give me a smile.”
Your five-month-old daughter does the very opposite of that. It seems that Eliza Munson has somehow perfected the art of giving a piercing glare before mastering sitting up on her own without being a little wobbly. 
The fuzzy white bunny suit she’s in, hood with ears and all, paints the most adorable picture you’ve ever seen. It would be even cuter if she would flash a brief look of glee for a single photo. This Easter is warmer than it’s been in the last few years and it’s easy to understand that she’s getting hot, which is making her cranky. But you just want one good picture. 
“Just one little smile for Mommy? Please?” You raise the small silver camera to your eye before remembering that this new fancy one has a digital screen where you can see what the picture will look like without squinting through a little hole. 
Deciding to start snapping shots and see what happens, your forefinger presses the small shiny button that makes a soft click after click. A giggle bubbles out of you as you notice your baby getting grumpier and grumpier with each shot. A flipbook would be a perfect place to put these photos and flip through them to see Eliza Hulk-out in real time. 
She is getting officially fed up now. 
“Boys?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder to where your husband and sons stand, watching your attempt at an infant photo shoot. “Can you make her smile so I can get one good shot? Then I’ll get her out of that.”
If anything can make Eliza laugh, it’s her brothers. Particularly Luke, he likes to remind people. 
“Sure,” Ryan says, looking around for any prop to assist him. His brown eyes snag on the eggs on the coffee table, the ones you and the boys had been in the middle of preparing to be dyed before Eddie came out with Eliza in all her fluffy glory. “Hey! Liza! Watch this!” He catches the baby’s eye and picks up one of the boiled eggs and jumps up, pretending to crack it over Eddie’s head. It brings a small smile out of your daughter. 
“Hey, hey!” Luke says, waving his arms to attract his little sister’s attention. “Eliza, look!” The younger Munson boy grabs an egg and props one socked foot on the edge of the coffee table to leverage himself up high enough to copy Ryan’s actions.
“Oh, Luke, that one wasn’t–”
Your warning comes too late. The ten-year-old had picked up one of the eggs that had yet to be boiled in preparation for decorating. This comes to light when Luke crushes the egg over his father’s head and runny yolk and gooey egg whites plop down onto Eddie’s hair and drip down his frizzy curls. 
The air feels as if it’s been sucked out of the room. All eyes are on Eddie as his shoulders bunch up towards his ears and his jaw drops open, a small dollop of yellow yolk falling onto his salt-and-pepper scruff. It’s hard to tell how long the room is frozen, silent until—
Furious giggles come from behind you and it breaks the tension that kept the four of you rooted to your spots. You whip your head around to see Eliza laughing so hard that she loses her balance and flops down onto her side, unable to remain sitting up straight on her own. Quickly, you’re able to set her up right again and grab the camera getting a few shots of her, giddy as can be in her bunny suit. 
Relieved that’s taken care of, you now turn back to look back at your husband, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Neither has Luke. 
It’s obvious to you by the look on Eddie’s face that he can tell that it was an accident, but your son is wide-eyed in fear, clearly not getting the same sense. 
“E-Eliza, say bye-bye to Luke cause Dad is gonna kill me,” Luke says softly, never taking his bright blue eyes from his father’s egg-covered form. 
Eddie takes a step towards Luke slowly, clearly wanting to keep Luke in suspense until the last second, before he wipes a large glob of the sticky egg goo from his own hair and rubs it into the little boy’s messy curls. A maniacal laugh erupts from deep within Eddie as he tugs Luke against his chest, not letting his son get away as he squirms and squeals, trying to escape the shared messiness. Despite his protests, when Luke pulls back and looks up at his dad, he’s laughing. 
Watching the two of them in amusement, you put your hands on your hips and shake your head. Never a dull moment with the Munson men. The two of them continue to rub egg on one another as you turn towards the only clean boy in the house.
“Ryan, can you go get Eliza out of her costume? Last thing we need is her overheating.”
“Yeah, you get cranky enough already,” Ryan tells his baby sister as he scoops her up. Eliza gives a little harumph, but you think that’s more from the way the twelve-year-old holds onto her tightly than offense at his words. 
You set the camera down on the coffee table, making sure it isn’t near any of the eggs.
“Damn,” you say. “Forgot to get a family picture.”
“We’ll take one when Ry and Eliza come back out,” Eddie says, dodging Luke’s sticky fingers. 
“That’s gonna look great with you two looking like you fell in a vat of slime,” you say with a laugh. 
Your husband and his mini me only continue to get messier until you hear Ryan’s footsteps coming back down the hall toward the living room. The moment your eyes land on your daughter’s new ensemble, you have to do a double take. Eliza is beaming in her brother’s arms, wearing her bright pink bathing suit covered in large, white polka dots. 
Left speechless, your eyes widen and you’re only able to gesture with your hands towards the swimsuit.
Ryan shrugs as he hefts his sister up on his hip. “She grabbed it when I opened her drawer. And you said you didn't want her overheating.”
Your gaze slides from Eliza, over to Luke and Eddie, then back to Ryan.
“You and I are going to be the ones who stick out in the Easter picture,” you tell your oldest. “We look normal.”
“You mean we don’t look normal?” Luke asks, jumping on his dad’s back and scrunching up the man’s eggy curls. 
Sighing and shaking your head in amusement, you snatch up the camera and fiddle with it until you set the timer for three minutes. The entertainment unit is the perfect height to rest the camera so it can get a good shot of the whole family. You set it on the shelf right above the television and nod your family over toward where the lens is facing.
Eddie, still sporting Luke as a backpack, walks over and stands on your right. Ryan, carrying a still-beaming Eliza tucks into your left side. It’s impossible not to look over the gang around you, letting out a laugh as you take in the chaotic bunch.
“Smile!” Luke instructs everyone.
Eddie slips his hand around your waist and pulls your side flush up against his, squishing some of the egg whites against you, causing you to let out a squeal of laughter just as the flash of the camera goes off. Your husband grins and presses a big wet kiss on your cheek
“Now that picture’s gonna be a keeper,” he says. 
Tumblr media
165 notes · View notes
munson-blurbs · 3 days
Text
Tumblr media
Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)
♫ Summary: What started as a quest to prove Eddie's 'manhood' ended with a gesture that had you hurtling towards your future--ready or not. (5.4k words)
♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, lots of bees, mention of parental illness, brief mention of sex work, finally some actual physical contact between them, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)
♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult
chapter five: float like a butterfly
For the first time since you’d started working nights, you didn’t dread the sound of your alarm ringing. You’d always appreciated its stillness, with only city noises and the occasional guest puncturing the perfect silence. There were some nights where you didn’t speak a word for the full eight hours of your shift; you just read or wrote or daydreamed until the clock struck six.
Except for last night, of course, when you’d passed the time by talking with Eddie and minimally contributed to wallpaper removal. Your mind flickered back to the way he’d placed his hand on yours. The sensation of his palm, calloused but warm, lingering a beat longer than necessary. 
The whole moment could have been deemed unnecessary, in theory. Surely he could have modeled the action on his own and then handed you the tool so you could imitate him. Was it truly to show you how to scrape off glue, or did he have a more gratuitous intention?
Shaking your head, you eschewed the idea almost as quickly as you’d considered it. He was just being polite, a rarity among most of your male guests. Maybe that's why you were so hyper-focused on it; years of clipped conversations and crude comments had you mistaking kindness for something more flirtatious.
Speak of the Devil…
Eddie stood in the lobby, his guitar case slung across his back. He kept one elbow perched on the desk as he spoke to your mom. Whatever he said was making her laugh, a genuine one that brought a light to her eyes. She noticed you first, and when she waved you over, Eddie turned around to see what caught her attention. His smile shifted from open-mouth to close-lipped, more thoughtful and discreet without losing any of its charm.
Slinging your bag off of your shoulder next to the desk, you feigned a casual demeanor and asked, “What did I miss? Serenading my mom?” You nodded towards the guitar case, biting back a smile.
Eddie shook his head, his curls falling in his face. “Tried to make a couple bucks down at the subway station.” He shrugged, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Not enough for a ticket home, but it’s a start.”
Home. Obviously he was going home. New York had nothing for him, had chewed him up and spit him out like he left a bitter taste in its mouth. He had no reason to stay.
Oblivious to your disappointment, Mom laughed again. “Mr. Munson–”
“Eddie. Mr. Munson is my uncle.”
“Eddie,” Mom quickly amended, “was just telling me about the time he ripped his pants while he was on stage.” 
Rosy red seeped into Eddie’s cheeks, evidently not expecting your mom to share that information with you. “And that was the last time I wore leather pants,” he said. “Lesson learned.”
Deeming this conclusion insufficient, you inquired further. “How exactly does one rip leather pants?” You stifled a giggle, just imagining him feeling a sudden breeze mid-concert.
“Well, ya see,” he started, crossing his arms over his faded Metallica t-shirt and smirking, “I’m what’s known as an enthusiastic performer. And as such, one might find that leather can be quite restricting.”
“So…you got really sweaty and they ripped.”
Eddie hid his face behind a curtain of curls, all but confirming your suspicions. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Heiress,” he warned with a smile, cocking his pointer finger in your direction.
Mom took that as her cue to leave, quickly clasping your hand and excusing herself. Thick tension set in without her there as a buffer. Her presence prevented any conversation from dipping too deep into flirtation; now, there was nothing stopping it. 
Except, of course, the looming fact that he was a guest. And like all guests, he was a temporary fixture in your life. 
“The new wallpaper didn’t come in yet,” you blurted out. Dad had insisted on ordering it from a family friend, saving money but forgoing the promises of timely delivery afforded by bigger suppliers. 
Eddie shrugged, unbothered by the information. “I know.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and held out the pack in offering, but you shook your head. Without missing a beat, he put his own cigarette back and returned the box to his pocket. “Your mom was saying how excited she is for you to finish your classes and take over the motel.”
Panic flooded your lungs and constricted your breathing at the potential crisis he might have inadvertently caused. Did Mom seem upset? Her usual signs were noticeably absent: narrowed eyes, set jaw, lips painfully taut in a silent roar: we’ll discuss this later. 
There was none of that. She was laughing. Happy. Not a hint of disappointment. Yet anxiety still hooked its claws into your skin, a stinging reminder of the anvil dangling over your head. 
“You didn’t say—”
“Not a word.” Eddie waved away the thought. “Just smiled and nodded.”
Your chest went concave with relief, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him into a hug. His arms held a surprising strength, as evidenced by his wallpaper removal abilities, and you wondered how they would feel wrapped around your waist. Did he hug tightly, not letting go until all of the air had been squeezed from your lungs? Or did he prefer a softer, lazier embrace, one with a hand free to stroke up and down your back?
Why did it matter?
“Is there a reason you haven’t told them?” he asked. The sound of his voice invaded your senses, pulling you back to reality in an instant. “I mean, they seem nice enough.”
Stooping down to grab your notebook, you nodded in agreement. “That’s part of the problem, I guess.” Your teeth scraped along your tongue as you considered your words. “If they were shitty, I wouldn’t feel so bad about letting them down.”
“Letting them down?”
You nodded, feeling that familiar pit that formed in your stomach whenever this subject arose. “Yeah. I can’t be a social worker and run the motel. And if I don’t stick around, they’ll have to close this place for good.”
Eddie breathes out with a low whistle. “Pretty high stakes.”
“You can say that again.” Resting your elbows on the desk, you buried your head in your hands. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a rockstar?” you asked, your voice slightly muffled. 
He took so long to respond that you looked up, wondering if he’d up and left while you weren’t watching. 
“My dad’s, um, not in the picture, and my mom died when I was a kid,” he finally said, using his left thumbnail to pick at the right. 
“I’m sorry.” And you were: for his loss and for prying into his history. Mortification bloomed and prickled sweat under your arms, and you clenched them to your sides in a feeble attempt to hide any forming stains.
“S’okay. I mean, you didn’t know, so…” his shoulders moved up and down, his mouth drawn into a forgiving half-smile, “now you know.”
Now you know. A little slice of him, presented to you like one of the cakes the local bakery kept locked behind a pane of refrigerated glass. The ones you admired as a kid, reveling in their perfectly smooth icing and intricately piped pastel flowers. They’d always seemed too delicate to touch, so you’d skipped over them in favor of sprinkle-laden cookies.
Logically, you know that the cakes were made for consumption. All you needed to do was ask for a taste. But you could never bring yourself to ruin their beauty. Not then, and not now.
And so, as always, you stepped away and chose the easier path instead.   
“Did you really rip your pants on stage?”
Eddie’s nose wrinkled at the sudden subject change, but he recovered quickly. “Sure did. Split right down the seam.” He puffed out a short laugh through his nose. “Poor Gareth got an eyeful that night.”
“Are you sure that isn’t the real reason you left the band?” Picking up the nearest pen, you poked the capped end into his forearm. 
He play-winced, rubbing the spot the cap touched, and shook his head. “Nah, this was my high school band. Corroded Coffin.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Oh, yeah. We were terrifying.” Eddie widened his eyes in mock-horror. “The backbone of Indiana’s satanic panic, actually.”
You raised your brows. “Impressive.”
“Mhm. We only broke up because our bassist went to college out of state. Princeton.” He lowered his voice at the name as though relaying confidential information. 
“Not the Ivy Leagues!” You pressed your hand to your heart, clutching metaphorical pearls. 
Eddie grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”
“I’ve heard Princeton is known for their demonic studies program, so that tracks.”
This is nice. This is easy. No mention of schoolwork, or the motel, or parents—or lack thereof. You could do this all night. 
A throat clearing followed by a hacking cough took you both by surprise. Peering over Eddie’s shoulder, you found Phyllis standing in the lobby doorway. 
“There’s a wasp nest outside my window,” she said, tugging up one drooping shirt sleeve. The odor of stale cigarettes grew stronger as she walked closer to you and Eddie; even if she quit smoking today, the pungency would always cling to her. 
Uncapping your pen, you reached into the desk drawer and grabbed the stack of Post-Its. “I’ll make a note to get some insecticide spray tomorrow,” you promised, poorly curbing your exasperation. 
If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. 
The older woman didn’t put up any argument, but Eddie was obviously displeased. “Like hell you will.” He glanced around, pent-up energy overflowing as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “You got a baseball bat around here?”
Your “Uh, no,” overlapped with Phyllis’s nonchalant, “Yeah, of course,” and she left to fetch it.
A sigh escaped you, hinting at your mounting irritation. “Eddie, absolutely not,” you insisted. “Just wait till I get the spray and you can do it then.”
He clicked his tongue with a note of condescension that you didn’t particularly appreciate. “Don’t worry about it, Heiress. I’m from the Midwest; our wasps are like your rats. This’ll be nothing.” When you remained unconvinced, he adopted a teasing grin. “I don’t tell you how to do your nerd stuff, do I? So leave me to my man stuff in peace.”
You nearly choked on your own saliva. “Your man stuff?”
“Yes. Very strong and burly.” He flexed a bicep for emphasis and you threw your hands up in defeat, trying to ignore the soft fluttering in your stomach at the vein bulging through his skin.
Phyllis returned with the bat, the wooden neck clenched between arthritic fingers. “It’s right around the side,” she told Eddie. “Just look for the giant nest. And don’t forget to give this back when you’re done; I’m working tonight.” She thrust the bat into Eddie’s hand and padded back to her room, slippers thwacking against the linoleum. 
Eddie twirled the bat, threading it through his fingers and catching it smoothly. He smiled, unable to camouflage his pride. “See? I got this.” His grasp was determined without a hint of tenderness, a stark contrast to the way he’d held your hand the night prior. Tucking it underneath a denim-clad arm, he took a deep breath and pushed through the front door like he was preparing for battle.
You watched him leave, shaking your head. Evidently, he had a point to prove, but you doubted the chances of his success. Part of you wished you could leave the desk to watch him in action. Another part was relieved that you had the excuse to avoid witnessing this disaster as it unfolded.
As you predicted, not even half a minute had passed before you heard Eddie yelping, his footsteps thudding towards the motel’s entrance. He flung the door open with enough force that it smacked against the wall, scrambling to slam it shut behind him. His chest heaved under his jacket as he tried to catch his breath. 
“Shit, shit, shit.” He swatted around his head at some lingering wasps. “Son of a bitch!”  
Sucking your tongue to your front teeth, you bit back an I-told-you-so. “How’s your ‘manhood’ or whatever?” 
Maybe that wasn’t much better than outright gloating, but you couldn’t help yourself. 
Eddie made a closed fist with only his middle finger sticking up, and he winced almost immediately. “I think one of those little fuckers got me.” He cradled one hand in the other as you walked towards him for a closer inspection. 
Sure enough, a stinger was poking out from the side of his forefinger.
Phyllis came shuffling back from her room, pink lipsticked mouth pursed in concern. “Jesus, kid. Were you trying to piss them off?” The loose skin under her neck wobbled when she chortled. “You swung at that nest like you were Babe Ruth!”
Through a tense smile, you asked her to get a soapy washcloth so you could clean out the wound before it could spark an allergic reaction. “Unless, of course, that interferes with your man stuff,” you said to Eddie, all-too happy to throw his words back in his face.
“Fuck off.” A traitorous chuckle broke through his stoic exterior despite his very real pain. His eyes followed your movements as you grabbed the first aid kit.
You took his warm palm in yours, gently turning it to assess the afflicted finger. The stinger was lodged under his skin, already turning the surrounding area an angry red. 
“Oof, he really stung you good, huh?” Your tone was all sympathy; you figured he’d gotten enough jabs from the wasps. 
Eddie gritted his teeth as you gingerly scraped at the stinger with the edge of your notebook, taking care not to squeeze out any of the venom. You tightened your grip to keep his hand in place, feeling the soft but steady thrum of his heartbeat between his wrist and his thumb’s tendon. It had a melody of its own. 
Slowly, meticulously, you eased the stinger out from where it was wedged.
“Sorry,” you said softly, noting the way his eyes clamped shut as you drew out the stinger and brushed it onto the desk. 
“S’okay.” He managed a small smile, one you returned without hesitation.
The night was still for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft but eager. 
“Tell me more about Izzy.”
Apparently, you weren’t the only one with a penchant for rapid subject changes. 
At once, your head was filled with memories of her: the pigtails held in place with thick rubber bands, the popsicle juice-stained pink t-shirt, the giggles that melted away your stress from a succession of ungrateful customers. He said something else, but you were too engrossed in your own thoughts for the words to register. 
“Hmm?”
“The little girl you helped.” Eddie cocked a quizzical brow, suddenly worried that he’d remembered incorrectly. “That was her name, right?”
You nodded. “She was only there that one day. I didn’t see her again.”
Her mother was probably too embarrassed to stay any longer and found another motel. If you could go back in time, you would have reassured her, maybe even offered to watch after Izzy while she worked. You might have informed her of programs where she could find a job that didn’t put her or Izzy in harm’s way. 
Eddie continued talking, for some reason persistent in his quest for answers. “But you said she talked to you while she was drawing. About her favorite stuff?”
Phyllis returned with cloth before you could answer him, and she rested it on the desk with a sigh. “I’m gonna head out,” she said, pointing at Eddie, “but my bat better be in my room before I get back, Yogi Berra.”
He nodded, absently massaging the nape of his neck. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” One burgundy-painted fingertip pointed at Eddie, then at you. “I like this kid.”
How do you even respond to that? An honest, ‘me, too’? An overly sarcastic, ‘he’s alright’? 
You opted for a small, unassuming smile and the reminder to be safe, which was absurd when you really thought about it. Phyllis had been doing this, as she put it, “since my tits were above my belly button,” yet you were telling her about safety. 
Bringing your attention back to the sting, you clutched the sopping wet washcloth. Phyllis apparently hadn’t wrung it out; water dripped down the side of your fingers and splashed onto the floor in an uneven plop-plop-plop. 
With an abundance of care, you swiped the cloth over the sting site. It was already starting to swell, the skin raised and angry. 
Eddie reflexively pulled away, the tension evident from the way his front teeth formed grooves in his lower lip. 
“Fuck, that hurts.” His free fist pounded into the desktop with so much force that, for a split second, you worried that he might leave a dent. 
“I know, but we have to clean it out,” you said. 
He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath; you weren't sure you even wanted to know what he said. “Yeah, yeah.” He winced as the frayed fibers grazed him again. “So…Izzy?”
“There isn’t much to say,” you answer honestly. “I mean, she just told me she loved McDonalds french fries and Muppet Babies. Especially baby Fozzie Bear.”
“Anything else?”
You thought back for a moment. “Her favorite animal was dogs, but only the little ones. She said the big ones scared her because they barked too loud. Oh, and her favorite color was light purple.”
The memory is bittersweet, bathing you in both comfort and a dull ache. It was almost six years ago but the little girl had made herself at home in your mind. You thought about her on a daily basis, wondering if she and her mom were still bouncing from motel to motel, or if they’d found a permanent place to settle. Every ounce of optimism you possessed worked to help you believe that they were safe and that she didn’t remember when safety wasn’t guaranteed.
“I knew it.”
You looked up from applying calamine lotion, dabbing the pink-stained cotton ball over any excess dripping off of his finger. “Knew what?” 
“I knew you’d remember everything she told you.” His thumb relaxed and fluttered down until it rested on yours, the pad of his finger on your knuckle.
You reached for a Band-Aid before realizing that opening it required two hands. With more hesitation that you anticipated, you let go of him. “And what makes you say that?” You wrapped the bandage around his finger, careful not to press too tightly around the sting. “There. Good as new.”
Eddie smiled his appreciation. “I, um, had a similar experience when I was a kid.” He swallowed, picking at the Band-Aid until the adhesive side began to bunch up. When he allowed himself to glance at you, he saw you looking back at him, silently encouraging him to tell his story. 
“My mom got sick when I was in kindergarten. The treatment made her tired and nauseous, like, all the time; when she wasn’t sleeping, she was throwing up.” His eyes clouded over and his voice cracked slightly; he cleared his throat and continued. “I was at school one day, and the social worker asked me if I had anyone at home who washed my clothes for me. And when I told her no, she asked me to bring any clothes I needed cleaned with me the next day. So I did, and after school let out, she took me to the Laundromat.” 
If you told him that he didn’t have to keep talking, he'd stop. He’d wipe away any residual tears and excuse himself, and you’d once again spend your shift alone. And so you didn’t say anything, just stood there as his gears turned in recollection.
“She had this game: she’d hold up a piece of clothing and ask if it goes in the ‘lights’ or ‘darks’ pile, and she would get faster and faster until I was laughing too hard to answer.” Eddie exhaled a short laugh and swiped his tongue over his top teeth. “The whole time, I’m thinking that it’s all fun, that this is a normal thing that every kid did. I didn’t realize until years later that it was because my clothes smelled, y’know?” 
Sheepishness colored Eddie’s face in pink splotches as he shifted from man to boy and then back again. 
“Anyway, your story about Izzy kinda reminded me of that. And she might not remember your name or even what you talked about, but she’ll remember someone being there for her. Someone who didn’t act like she was a bother or a charity case. Just a kid who wanted to play.”
His words left you without any of your own. There was so much to digest; chiefly, your newfound glimpse into Eddie’s past. And though you’d only ever known him as an adult, you were still picturing him as a child. He sat atop a counter where others folded their clothes, his brown eyes–looking even bigger than they did presently, given his small stature–gazing up at the woman in wonderment as he giddily sorted his laundry. 
And then, of course, there was the delicately embedded compliment. The reassurance that you had been a positive force in Izzy’s life, even through one brief encounter. 
It was the only part that you could elaborate on without intruding on his privacy. He’d shared something so personal, and while you were desperate to learn more about him, you didn’t want to barge past the boundaries he had so carefully constructed.  
“Yeah, I…just wanted her to feel safe, I guess.” You’d devised a plan while you drew flowers and Care Bears in case no one showed up to find her. Everything had to be done so that she remained in the dark about the situation’s severity; you’d have Mom or Dad check the room, only calling the authorities if Izzy’s mom was unresponsive—or worse. 
In the end, there was no need for you to worry. Her mother was alert and Izzy herself was none the wiser that anything was wrong. You hadn’t even told your parents about the situation despite their potential involvement. Eddie, of all people, was the only other person who knew. 
He nodded and reached over, giving your hand a subtle, tender squeeze. 
“You did.”
Reassurance drifted through the air and clung to you like the sharp scent of tobacco on his jacket. Receiving compliments wasn’t your strongest suit, so you pivoted topics to avoid stretching the ensuing awkward silence any further. 
“The calamine lotion should help with the itching, but you can take some Benadryl if it’s still bad.” Rummaging through the first aid kit, you searched for the medication but only managed to scrounge up a bottle of expired ibuprofen. “There’s a pharmacy a few blocks down. They’ll have some there.” A little mom and pop shop that sold candy and cheap wine in addition to different over-the-counter medicines, it had been a community staple since before you were born.
The corners of Eddie’s eyes crinkled, lips turning upwards in amusement. “An heiress, a social worker, and a nurse? What can’t you do?”
That was a loaded question, and you were relieved that it was rhetorical so you wouldn’t have to list all of your shortcomings. You settled for flipping him off with an accompanying smile of your own.
“I should probably get that bat before she gets back,” he said, glancing towards the older woman’s room. He lowered his voice and continued. “She kinda scares me.”
“Oh, I definitely would not get on her bad side,” you agreed. “Phyllis’s wrath will make that wasp sting feel like a walk in the park.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” His laugh was music that stirred up a desire to dance, to be carried by the melody like a strong gust of wind, and then he was out the door.
Immediately, you were inclined to find something new to talk about when he walked back in. You’d had two days of companionship and had been spoiled by it; the thought of another night in solitude suddenly seemed lonely.
You couldn’t ask about his parents or the social worker who’d taken him to the Laundromat; that was too personal, too soon. Same with his old band. But music–his favorite songs, musicians, albums–that might be safe enough to explore.
The door opened and brought with it a cool evening breeze. Eddie returned much more confidently than he had the last time, Phyllis’s bat slung over his shoulder. 
“Apparently, I actually managed to knock the nest down,” he reported, sounding as surprised as you felt. 
He stifled a yawn, denim creasing at the elbow when he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. It was then that you noticed the way sleep tugged at his eyelids, dashing any remaining hope of having a conversational partner this evening. Asking him to stay awake for you was just selfish. 
“I’ll see you around, Heiress. Let me know if there’s any more man stuff you need from me.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice in quick succession and started towards his room. 
“Night, Eddie.”
Opportunity slipped through your fingers as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps eventually too muted to hear. You shoved your disappointment beneath the surface. Eddie wasn’t your friend; he was a guest who happened to be friendly. Asking him to stick around and chat would be unprofessional. 
If he happened to stop by the desk while you worked, you could make small talk. Otherwise, it would be business as usual. 
Minutes were hours and hours were days. Another trucker needed a room for the night, and you checked him in around four o’clock. 
You thought about the certainty in Eddie’s assurance that Izzy had felt safe with you. He didn’t know her; he barely knew you, and he wasn’t even there when it all happened. Yet his approval illuminated from the inside out and you replay it over and over. 
You did. You did. You did. 
Izzy was safe with you and she knew it. If you swallowed your fears and forged your own path, you could help other kids just like her. But it would come at a steep cost unless your parents could somehow miraculously afford to hire a new employee.
Your stomach turns just imagining the motel’s windows shuttered, a For Sale sign propped up in the door, ready to be snapped up by a major hotel chain for a mediocre sum that would barely pay off the overdue bills. It haunted you.
How long could you do this? How long could you push off your own dreams in favor of your parents’? At what point did you cross that fine line between selflessness and martyrdom?
Exhaustion crushed your body, strong enough to overpower the churning anxiety. Still, your sleep was fitful, and you woke up before your alarm feeling wholly unrested. Achiness radiated through your bones as you dragged yourself out of bed.
You knew what you had to do.
Tumblr media
Dad noticed your earlier departure, so used to you leaving at 1:45 every day like clockwork. His brows pinched with perplexity as he determined whether he’d forgotten about a change in your schedule.
“Just running an errand before class.”
His confusion faded, replaced with a grin. “Thought I was losing my mind.” The way he stood under the lighting accentuated the gray flecks in his hair and mustache and solidified that he was, in fact, aging. His eventual retirement loomed closer, more of a when than an if with each passing day.
“Can’t lose what you never had,” you teased weakly. Dad met your joke with a wink; if he had picked up on the falter in your voice, he was gracious enough to ignore it.
You took a slight deviation from your usual route, walking past the bus stop and turning the corner until you reached the mailbox. It beckoned you, taunted you, sneered at your cowardice. The stamped envelope mocked you tenfold; innocuous on the surface but held the weight of betrayal.
It contained your admissions letter to NYU with the “accept” box marked and a deposit check that nearly drained your savings, ready to go.
The mailbox hinge creaked open so loudly that it seemed to echo. All you had to do was drop the envelope down the chute and pray that you made the right choice.
Regret surged through your veins the moment the envelope left your fingertips. You acted on instinct, shoving your hand back down the box to reclaim your letter, but you knew it was a fruitless effort before you’d even failed. It was already lost in a sea of bills and birthday cards. 
“Shit!” Yanking your arm out before someone accused you of mail theft, you tilted your head back in an attempt to stop the impending tears.
With one stupid decision, you’d heaved a shovel into the dirt and begun digging a grave for the family business.
What the hell were you thinking? 
As though it had a mind of its own, your foot swung out and smacked against the tin drum with all of your might. It took a beat for the pain to hit, the throbbing in your toes matching the reverberating metal.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You didn’t care who saw, who heard. Anger and self-loathing bubbled over like boiling water and scalded you in shame. Everything was so far out of your control, and you couldn’t rein it in. The world kept spinning fast, faster, too fast—
“Kicking it won’t make the mailman show up, y’know. ‘S not like rubbing a genie’s lamp.” 
Eddie stood on the other side of the mailbox. A plastic bag dangled from his hand, the box of drugstore brand antihistamine peeking through its translucence. His playfulness morphed into concern when he noted your dewy lashes. “Heiress? You okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” You swiped at your cheeks and sniffed back the mucus that collected in your nostrils. You probably should have been embarrassed that he’d caught you in such a state of distress; maybe you would be once the dust settled. 
He wrinkled his nose dubiously. You couldn’t blame him; why would he be convinced when you were assaulting mailboxes and swearing at the air?
“Seriously. Just having a bad day.” And it was going to get even worse if you missed your bus—again. “Thanks for asking, though.” You managed a grateful smile to prove your sincerity.
Grabbing your backpack from its spot on the ground, you zipped it back up and hoisted it over your shoulder before starting back towards the stop. 
“Hey, wait a sec.” Eddie called out to you, shuffling over until he was by your side. “You, uh, your makeup…” He trailed off bashfully, raising his thumb but stopping before it touched your skin. “May I?”
You nodded, breath hitching as the pad of his finger grazed just below your eye. He gently rubbed, tongue poking between his lips while he focused on removing the smudge without hurting you. 
He was close, almost too close for comfort. There was a small cut on his chin where he must have nicked himself shaving, and you forced yourself to stare at that instead of his wide eyes. 
“There…we…go.” He held up a mascara-stained thumb as evidence. Without thinking, you pressed your own thumb to it. The knuckles of your remaining four fingers slotted between his until you pulled away. 
Eddie laughed, apparently amused by the odd gesture. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” He wiped the residue on his shirt, not caring if it left a mark. “Don’t miss the bus; wouldn’t want you to be late for your nerd stuff again.”
“Mhm.”
You harnessed all of your strength to unglue your feet from the sidewalk. Your body operated on autopilot to its destination while your mind only thought of the heat that leapt from his thumb to yours, or maybe yours to his. 
It was cyclical, you surmised as the bus approached, with no clear beginning or end.
--
taglist (now closed ♥):
@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin
189 notes · View notes
localemofreak · 1 day
Text
Got That Kinda Look To Make Me Freak.
(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Based on the song:
Emo Boy - Ayesha Erotica
—————————————
‼️Warnings‼️: use of y/n, slight smut ahead, also kinda fluffy, Eddie is a slightly awkward mf, etc. (if I forgot anything please tell me!)
—————————————
It was a nice Saturday day- and you had decided to head off to the mall, thinking it would be nice to walk around and shop at some of your favorite stores.
As you walked around the mall- that’s when you saw him.
You watched this stranger from a slight distance- he was in a cute little candle shop (wayne probably forced him to get a candle- nasty ass 💀) but he stood out like a sore thumb in there as he stood by the front window of the store.
You watched as he just picked random candles up, sniffing them before quickly placing them back down.
He had long brown wavy hair, he was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, ripped black jeans, a leather jacket with a denim vest on top of it, the denim vest had a bunch of different pins and patches- honestly bad ass, and he also had some white Reebok's on.
You couldn't forget the million accessories on him, which you noticed first when he grabbed a candle- those rings on his fingers, they looked so cool- they definitely weren't normal rings you could buy in a Walmart.
But one thing that you knew for sure- man, was he hot..
After a moment of standing there, gawking at the random young man, you decided to walk into the candle shop while also starting a small argument with yourself in your head.
You just glanced around, looking at different candles before you finally grew some balls to head over to where the mystery metalhead was standing, looking confused as fuck while scanning through different candles.
"Need some help?-" you offered with a small giggle, he just turned his head- his eyes widened slightly as he saw you, it was obvious he was little taken away by you.
"Oh, uh, yeah- I just, don't know which one is the best.." he said, stumbling around with his words while holding a candle in his hand- you just giggled at his slight awkwardness, it was cute.
"Well- if you don't want your room to smell all girly and like flowers I suggest not the one in your hand." You giggled, pointing to the 'rose and lavender' candle he was holding in his hand.
He just looked down at the candle for a second and quickly put it back, his cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment.
"Oh shit- sorry.." he mumbled, giving a slight awkward chuckle as you shook your head and giggled a little bit more, deciding to pick up a candle that smelt like apple pie.
"No need to apologize- here, this one looks like it would fit you." You said, handing him the candle with a small smile on your face.
He picked his head up to reveal his brown doe eyes and the blush on his cheeks.
Oh god he was so dreamy.
"thanks.." he said, slowly taking the candle from you- his fingers also brushing against yours which caused a slight shiver to run down your spine.
"I'm y/n." You said- you decided to introduce yourself, thinking it would be nice- he just smiled softly and nodded his head, holding the candle in his hand.
"Eddie. Nice to meet you." He said, offering his hand out to shake- you glanced down at his hands and ring covered fingers for a small moment before shaking his hand.
Even after you shook it, you two just held hands for a good second while looking into each other eyes.
-TIME SKIP-
It felt like so much happened in just the matter of seconds, even though it was hours.
Currently, you were in Eddie's trailer- the candle you gave him that he bought was now lit on his messy bedside table.
And you and him?- you were both laying in his bed, naked, his mouth was attached to yours as he hovered over you and made out with you.
His lips muffled the moans that fell from your lips as he thrusted into you with such ease, and god weren't you enjoying every second of it.
Some crazy shit must have happened at the mall for the rest of your day to end up like this- having sex with the town's local freak in his bed.
He continued to sloppily make out with you, his thrusts sloppily and deep that indicated he was getting closer- and you were too.
Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist- his body was covered in sweat but it was hot.
Your nails dug into his back, leaving behind marks as you felt your stomach tighten before you finally released- causing you to let out the most gut wrenching, intense moan into his mouth.
He quickly followed behind you, thrusting faster and deeper until he came inside you- his head fell into your neck as he let out a loud moan, his voice cracking as he let it out but that just made it even hotter.
His sweat covered body collapsed on top of you as you and him just laid there, collecting your thoughts real quick- you swore you were seeing stars the second you opened your eyes.
Finally, he slowly pulled out of you and slowly got up, grabbing a random piece of clothing off his messy bedroom floor to clean you up with before he collapsed next to you, pulling the covers over you and him.
His bangs were attached to his forehead thanks to the sweat and his tattoos glistened slightly- you just slowly turned your numb body to lay against his chest, his arm wrapping around you.
"That candle smells nice." He mumbled, a tired chuckle escaping his lips as you just playfully rolled your eyes and dug your head into the crook of his neck to hide your giggle.
122 notes · View notes
lis-likes-fics · 2 days
Text
Princess II
Pairings: Eddie Munson x rich!Reader Word Count: 18k words Warnings: Slow burn, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, strangers to best friends to lovers... A/N: This was so much fun to write. It took like....over a year to finish this two-parted but it's done and I love them so much. They're literally idiots. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you! (And a special thanks to my beta reader, you're amazing!)
Tumblr media
The months pass smoothly, and soon you've been incorporated into aspects of Eddie's life that you've dreamt of for years.
It started with you ditching the cheerleading squad at lunch to go sit with Eddie and his friends. They were so sweet to you, if not a little flirty. Dustin was always eager to see you at lunch, showing off his intelligence or quick-wit any chance he got. He was all smiles, treating you like his cool aunt who got him just about anything he asked for because you liked to spoil him.
Mike was also excited, but he was also a little more open to accepting gifts and things from you. But he was the middle child in his family, so you kind of expected it.
Gareth, Fred, and Jeff all had similar reactions. Though Fred was more skeptical of having a girl like you in the group, you were easy to warm up to. Gareth and Fred constantly flirted with you, but you suspect they did it more for Eddie's annoyance than yours. You warmed up to them.
But Eddie.
The first day you went to sit with them, he'd made one of his buddies get up and move so you could sit next to him. It was a complete change in fondness, like his comfortability to you had skyrocketed to the other end of his kindness.
He included you in every chat, asked questions that weren't awkward but let him and the group get to know you. You really felt comfortable there, like one of them. You expected to feel a little off, but you didn't. They were so kind.
Everyone sneered for a while. The first couple of days were full of glares and snickers from those of other tables. But the longer you sat there, the less people cared. Whatever. You could do what you want, you're the princess. Eddie's comments on how people pick on him and his friends dwindled, though it never fully disappeared.
The squad wasn't so happy, not that you cared. They talked about it to your face and behind your back. It always got back to you of course, Chrissy kept you updated.
You actually managed to pull Chrissy a couple of times to sit with you and Eddie. She enjoyed it just as much as you.
Soon you started joining them during their campaigns. You just sat out and watched at first, serving as their cheerleader, until Eddie pulled you in by your waist, sat you down next to him like you always do now, and let you join in as any character of your choosing. You were an orc named Bill.
The longer you were friends with Eddie, the closer you got, and you loved every second. You went from sitting at his lunch table to playing campaigns with him to regularly going to his house (to the point where you could walk in and Wayne would wave and point down the hall where Eddie sat in his room) to spending just about every day glued to his side, his inseparable friend.
Eddie had always wanted a friend like that, though he'd never admit it, adamant on maintaining his reputation as a freakish outsider who didn't need anyone, who adopted all the other losers into his band of rejects.
He'd always wanted someone who loved spending that much time with him. He's way more happy than he'd like to admit that you haven't gotten tired of him yet.
Spring break comes and goes. You spend the whole of it with Eddie, except for the one day your parents decided to take you to one of the charity events in town. You spent the whole of it with Chrissy in a pretty dress that Eddie said he liked—considering she was in the same class as you and your parents were close friends.
You learned a lot of things over the time you spent as Eddie's friend.
You learned that every time he's asked what his favorite color is, he says black or red just to be edgy when, really, it's baby blue.
You learned that he loves pizza, he could finish an entire pie by himself in under ten minutes. Then he'd smile at you with his face covered in pizza sauce and you'd feel like you were going to puke, you're so in love.
He claims to be ambidextrous, but you've seen his left-handed penmanship and there's nothing ambidextrous about it. He likes loud, thundering music, but you've seen him turn into a softy from the slow, quiet kinds you never thought he'd be into. He lifts sometimes, revealing to you how lean he actually was when you walked in on him shirtless in his room once with weights in his hands.
You'd left the room to recuperate. He'd teased you about it for weeks.
He's terrible at math but he's a decent writer, he's a nice singer—and you melt every time you hear him sing, no matter the genre—he can draw, he can read three different books in one week, he cannot cook, but he can boil the hell out of some water. Wayne was very happy when you showed up in Eddie's life and started cooking for them.
You watched him learn the entirety of Metallica's new song, Master of Puppets, in under a month.
Choosing to become Eddie's friend was a terrible decision in only one way: every single day, he gives you more and more reason to fall deeper in love with him. Your heart is so full, you think you'll die.
You don't know if Eddie knowing that you like him is better or worse. On one hand, he knows he definitely has the option if he really wants it. On the other, he doesn't know just how much you have fallen and him being him tears you apart from the inside out.
But if this is the closest you'll get to him, you'll gladly burn inside just to get the chance to hold his hand.
~
After pulling up in front of your house, Eddie opens your door like a gentleman so you can make him study for a test he had that you knew he wouldn't do otherwise. He slung your bag over one shoulder, grabbing his own to do on the other side.
"Wait!" you tell him as he's slamming the door. You rush inside, smiling wide as you disappear into the house. Eddie follows you, taking his sweet time about it. You're already running down the stairs as he reaches the door after finally walking the length of your huge driveway.
You come out with your hands behind your back, smiling too big for your face as you look at him. He raises a brow, dropping both your backpacks inside by the door and leaning to the side. His knee pops out, making him look as sassy as he probably feels.
"Another gift?" he asks, almost exasperated as he recognizes that sticky sweet smile on your face. He loves it but the amount of gifts you shower him with is insane sometimes.
"Are you trying to buy my love or something?" he teases. "Is this a bribe, Princess?" He lifts his brow ridiculously high and lowers his voice ridiculously low, as if talking in secret.
You roll your eyes at his theatrics. "Don't be ridiculous," you shake your head. "It's a gift."
He shrugs a shoulder. "Same difference."
You scoff. "Shut up and close your eyes." He makes a teasing snort but does as he's told. You bite the very tip of your lip. "Hold out your hands." He does it.
You pull the long, yellow envelope from behind your back, tied with a thin white ribbon to make the most exaggerated bow he'd ever see. You watch his brows change at the feeling of the paper in his hands, curiosity leaking out.
"Now open."
He does. Looking down at the envelope, he raises a brow and stares at it, as though it would open on command. He fingers the glued down flap of the letter and glances at you with hesitant eyes. "What is this?"
He pulls the glue free and begins to pull out two, just as long, slips of laminated paper. Looking up at you, he can see how bubbly you were with the excitement to show him your latest gifts. Or "bribes", as he liked to call them—all out of good fun!... you think.
The words pour from your lips. "Two backstage tickets to Metallica next week!" You bring it back once the biggest part of the reveal was said. "They're on tour, and I know you like them."
He stares at you with wide eyes, but he doesn't smile. You wait for his grateful reply for a while before what you are met with is a loud, "What?"
Your excitement turns to shivering fear as you stare, worried. "Is it the wrong band?" Suddenly, all the worst scenarios you worried about come to mind. "Shit, did I mess up?" You start mumbling to yourself. "I know I checked and then double checked. Maybe the tickets are wrong. Fuck, what did I do—?"
He stops you with his heavy hands on your shoulders, weighing you down but also providing a lot of comforting warmth as he looks you in the eye with the same level of intensity. "You got me V.I.P. tickets to see Metallica perform?"
"In Indianapolis, yes."
He stares at you a moment longer before he's shoving you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you flush against his body. The hug is warm and enveloping and much too close for friendship, and you hug him back just as closely, almost feeling as though you could cry of how wonderful it felt to have his scent all around you, his arms around your waist, his crazy hair tickling your face and shoulders.
After a beat too long, he's hoisting you off your feet and spinning you in a circle that has your body flying for a moment. He sets you down as you're both giggling, and when he pulls back to see you, his lips are set in the biggest smile you have ever seen. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you stare wide-eyed at him, and whatever was left slips out when his thumbs smooth circles along your sides as his hands stay set on your waist.
"You are fucking amazing," he says too fondly.
You gaze warmly at him, feeling your heart skipping too many beats. You need to go to the hospital.
Then his whole demeanor changes once more as his face drops into near frustration. "And extravagant," he adds suddenly. "Why the fuck did you get these for me?"
You honestly expected his hands to leave you by now, but they stayed at your sides with the envelope held between his fingers. You set your hands on his arms, shrugging as you smile earnestly.
"For us," you say, hoping not to scare him away with that. "Because I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it."
Eddie doesn't know what he's done to deserve something as special as this, but he just smiles down at it with the joy of a little boy getting a dog he's been wanting all his life for his birthday. You hear him curse under his breath.
"I gotta go tell Wayne," he beams. He scoops you into his arms again, squeezing tighter this time as he laughs happily, his elation infecting you. He sets you down, looking over your face. He's moving and speaking faster than you think he thinks he is, but it just makes you smile some more.
"Ah, I fuckin' love you. I'll see you later!" He tears away from you, turning around and sprinting toward his van to drive haphazardly down the road to get back to his uncle. He's waving at you through the window as he pulls away.
Meanwhile, you stand at the door with wide eyes and stilled breath, frozen on the porch. His words replay in your head like a mantra, like a prayer that you've been waiting for as you smile a little.
"He loves me," you sigh. Then you shake your head, hoping not to be as delusional as you feel. "Just a figure of speech..." you chew your lip, "probably..." you furrow your brows, "most likely."
You sigh as you shake and bow your head. "I'm talking to myself again."
You turn on your heel and set a course down the sidewalk, walking a few houses down with fast feet and an even quicker beating heart. Four doors down, you come up the path to Chrissy's house and start repeatedly pounding on the door, because it was more dramatic than letting yourself in.
You hear her as she approaches the door because she yells, "Y/N, I'm coming!"
The door opens and Chrissy stands on the other side with a raised brow and a sigh. She sees you standing there with your conflicted look as she furrows her brow. "What happened?"
You walk past her, venturing into the house and walking right up the stairs as she follows behind you, unphased as she closes the door. "I gave the tickets to Eddie."
"And?" she asks as she follows you up the stairs.
"He loved them," you say over your shoulder, shrugging. "He was, like, super excited."
She smiles wide, her whole face lights up. "That's great!"
You get to the top of the stairs on your way to her room, stopping at one of the doors prior and knocking gently before pushing it open. "Hi, Carter."
The boy looks at you and smiles wide, waving his hand as he returns his greeting. You smile back and close the door, instantly falling back into your contemplation as you burst into Chrissy's room and plopped down at the edge of her bed.
"So," she prompts. "Is it a date?"
You furrow your brow, granting her a confused look. "What? No, don't be ridiculous."
She rolls her eyes, "Right..."
"But he..." you trail off, chewing on your lower lip as you keep thinking to yourself, replaying the moment over and over and over again with the over-analysis of a skilled theorist.
"What?" she asks, urging you to finally spit it out.
"He, like," you look at her and release your lip in favor of speaking as you try and fail not to smile at the memory—as though it was a cherished thing that had been living in your brain for years. She follows the loose narration your hands give as you speak. "He picked me up and spun me around and said something about telling his uncle, and then..."
You hesitate to say it, hiding your face a little behind your hands. Chrissy sighs heavily, playfully impatient with your slowly developing, weird relationship with Eddie. "What? What did he do?"
You blush and smile too wide. Your face hurts. "He said 'I fuckin' love you', and then drove off." You're suddenly really giddy. "He said he fuckin' loves me!" You beam at Chrissy before quickly backtracking. "I know it was probably just a figure of speech or something, right? Like, he doesn't actually love me, he was just super happy. Heat of the moment. Right?"
This left your mouth as a word vomit and, honestly, Chrissy just watched you with a wide range of emotions crossing her face. Confusion, joy, passive frustration, hints of awaiting sarcasm...
She shrugs a shoulder, sitting next to you on the bed and attempting to soothe your scorching nerves. "I mean, probably, but you spend so much time together... who knows," she smiled wide suddenly, "maybe he's coming around."
Your grin is hopeful, your eyes glisten as you smile at her and she smiles wider and chuckles at the look. "You think so?"
"Sure!" she exclaims, eager to get you to the optimistic side of things.
"Maybe you're right," you nod to assure yourself, hoping that saying it out loud will bring it into existence. "Maybe you're right." You breathe in and out and sit up straight, nodding once more before you turn your gaze to Chrissy again. You take her hands in yours and squeeze gently. "The concert's next week, I need you to help me get ready."
"Absolutely," she beams. "You couldn't pay me not to help."
You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her into a bone-crushing hug. Chrissy, a native to your affection, takes it with an excited laugh and no acknowledgement to your strength.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Of course," she smiles, before pulling out of your arms and waving a playfully scolding finger at your face. "But you owe me."
You shrug. "I always do." You think for a moment. "We'll get lunch and go to the mall. Check out that store you like. An outfit of your choice, my treat."
"Deal," she said immediately. Rolling her eyes and smiling, she sighs dreamily. "I love leeching off rich people."
You roll your own eyes, not as dreamily. "You're also rich, Chris."
She shrugs, letting her shoulders sag lazily at her sides like a ragdoll. "I know, but you're my bitch."
You gasp dramatically. "Christina Elizabeth Cunningham! You watch your language."
She snorts. "Bitch, please."
You shove her back onto the bed and start for her kitchen. You're hungry and you're sure she hasn't eaten yet...
~
You close your locker with a snap. As you look up, you notice Tommy H on the other side, staring you down with an unimpressed look upon his face. You can see the rest of his group surrounding his locker to peer into the conversation, looking like a flock of pigeons—all bulgy eyes and flicking heads.
You sigh internally and turn to him, smiling as sweetly as you always do. "Hey, Tommy." You check your watch quickly.
"Hi," he says back, feeling slick.
You move your bag from your side to place your science books in, glancing at him as you do it. "Is there something I can help you with? I gotta get to class."
He leans his shoulder against the wall, crossing one leg over the other and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his lettermen. He shrugs his shoulders heavily, and your eyes fall on his Class of '85 patch—where it should now read '86 after an unfortunate grade point average in his last, slacked off year.
"You're hanging out with Munson now?" He raises a brow.
You sling your bag back over your shoulder. "Yeah?" You raised your brow, failing to see his point. "Is that supposed to be a problem or something?"
"I mean..." he trails off, laughing lightly like it's obvious. You just stare at him, almost looking clueless as he stumbles over his words to try and come up with an argument. He shrugs, "It's Munson."
You make a face. He scoffs.
"I mean, you seriously blew off a game for him?"
Oh. That makes more sense.
You've been hanging out with Eddie for months, and they haven't commented that much because you could do whatever you wanted because you... well, you're you.
But you did kiss the game last night. It wasn't a really serious one—at least, you don't think it was—and Eddie had a huge campaign he practically begged you to go to, and you accepted because you loved his campaigns way more than a stupid game (that, and the fact that you're head over heels in love with him). You told Chrissy, she covered for you.
You shrug. "We lost the game."
He scrambled for a comeback. "Yeah? Well, maybe we wouldn't have if you had been there. It's called moral support sweetheart."
You straighten your back and try not to make a face, continuing to remain friendly as you close your eyes. "First of all, don't call me that." He shrugs. "Second, there will be more games and more hangouts and whatever else. I'm hanging out with Eddie Munson, so what? He's my friend."
He scowls. "He's Eddie Munson."
You make a face, confusion raising your brow and lip. You pause, waiting for a follow-up. "You say that like it's supposed to prove a point."
Tommy scoffs. "Okay, how about this?" He towers over you, his elbow propped high up on your locker in an attempt to intimidate you. His red-freckled face is stern. "He's a freak."
He nearly spits the word in your face, and he smirks when he does it.
You tilt your head and smile.
"How about this..." You clear your throat and brush imaginary lint from his lettermen. "If you call Eddie a freak one more time," you look up at his face again, smiling a little sweeter and speaking a little slower, "I will personally see to it that my parents stop inviting yours to our parties."
His face pales.
"You'll be moved to our blacklist. From there, people will stop respecting you. And, by then, you'll be scrambling to get back in with us, and you'll look desperate doing it." Your eyes darken but your smile is perfectly intact as you watch his fear overcome him.
"I'll work you so far to the bottom that even the name Munson will hold less disdain in this town than Hagan." Your smile drops. You look cold.
"Do I make myself clear?"
He swallows thickly, finding his voice again after cracking on his first attempt. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "Yes."
"Great!" You clap once as you smile brightly once more. The warning bell cracks loudly, echoing through the halls with a shrill screech. Both you and the bell startle him as he flinches, sighing heavily as you pat your shoulder twice. "Thank you. Don't be late for class."
He hesitates, shaking his head and walking away to rejoin his posse pretending to not have been listening in to the conversation. "Yeah," he mumbles as you watch him leave.
"That was scary."
You turn and smile wide when you see Eddie, leaning on the lockers with an impressed look. "I can be very scary," you joke.
"Tell me about it." He rolls his eyes, and you lightly smack his shoulder at the insinuation. You both start walking down the hall to your shared science class. "What was that about?"
You glance over your shoulder to where Tommy and his friends are walking away, throwing half-hearted scowls at Eddie over their shoulders.
"Oh," you say, smiling to yourself almost maliciously. You shock Eddie for a moment with the brief look. "Just a little... nudge in the right direction."
His whole demeanor changes as he turns his body to face you, walking still as his feet side step to keep up with you. "Did you just threaten Tommy H for me?"
"'Course," you smile. "We're friends, Eddie, and I protect my friends... even if that means destroying social lives forever."
He sighs a laugh. "Startin' to think you like destroying social lives."
You both walk into class together just as the bell rings, moving to your seats as you lean in and whisper dramatically. "Only when they're assholes."
He gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. "Has her majesty just spoiled her tongue with the dirty language of the peasants?" he exclaims quietly in his best posh, British accent.
"I'm afraid she has," you play along in an accent of your own, though it's not as perfect as his. He's got an impeccable accent. "It can be quite hard to keep one's tongue guarded when met with the incompetence of the lower class, or even that of the upper."
He snorted, "Then, forgive me, my liege. I shall do my best to keep you away from the clutches of the incompetent."
You both laugh quietly amongst yourselves.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he snorts again, shaking his head with a seeking shudder.
You wink at him. "Never get on my bad side."
You direct your attention to the teacher. Eddie watches the side of your face and laughs again, shaking his head and readjusting after spending too much time taking in the sight of the side of your face.
You're pretty. He hopes he never gets on your bad side.
~
With Chrissy out with Jason, you have no one to calm your nerves as the time for Eddie to come pick you up grows closer. You've already dressed in the clothes you both picked out, she'd done your makeup before she had to leave, and you're walking around your room in your heels as you await his arrival.
You check yourself in the mirror one last time before the sound of your doorbell echoes through the house. You grab your stuff faster than you've ever done anything in your life, rushing down the stairs dangerously fast in your heels and throwing the front door open before your father's hand can even brush the handle.
Upon seeing you answer, he decides to walk away. Whatever you want...
You open the door and smile wide at Eddie, ignoring how nervous you feel at the sight of yourself. You feel sort of...out of place. This isn't your vibe but you are hoping he likes it anyway.
Eddie's eyes bulge and his mouth drops open.
He takes you in. Dressed head to toe in leather, he eyes your little red skirt and your black bustier top decorated with red roses. It looks so tight, he wonders how you're still able to breathe. You've got a garter belt wrapped tightly around your thigh, just peeking out from under your skirt, in more black leather. In knee high platforms, you've gone up a couple more inches in height. Even your makeup, with sharp wings, a tiny eyeliner heart on the apple of your cheek, and red lipstick a dark shade of blood.
Eddie feels like he just fell fifty feet and smacked his face on concrete, knocking all the air from his lungs and making it impossible to breathe. You are drop dead gorgeous.
"Wow."
You don't take it as well as he expected, nerves sinking in as you look over yourself quickly, wiping your hands down the skirt. "Too much?"
He shakes his head. "You look..." he trails off, lost in thought before shaking his head to bring himself back, "great. Really great."
You take it for what it is and smile. "Thanks," you blush. "Chrissy helped. You don't look half bad yourself."
And you mean it. He's in nearly as much leather as you. With black leather pants that cling to his body like chains, lacing running up the sides that seem to make them even tighter, he looks like a rockstar in his old Metallica muscle tee (the one where the logo is so faded, you can hardly see it).
You're not surprised to see his leather jacket and his battle vest, nor are you to see him wearing his own eyeliner, an extra edge you've seen during his concerts at the Hideout—though yours is admittedly done better. His hair is frizzier than ever, a look you tried to copy as well as you could but believe you fell short on (Eddie thinks your aces).
Eddie shakes his head. "Wow," he mumbles again, more breathless this time.
"You said that already."
"My bad," he says, not meaning it.
You shake your head and smile sweetly. "No, it's nice."
After staring again for too long, he clears his throat and smiles again, returning to his stupid antics that make you laugh constantly, like you've gone insane.
"You ready to go?" he asks.
"Yeah." You turn and yell into the house, cupping your hands around your mouth as you do it. "Bye, Daddy! Bye, Mom!"
Your mother's voice calls back, "Be back by sundown."
"What your mother said," says your father.
You close the door and walk with Eddie. "Uhm," he says. "We will not be back by sundown."
"It doesn't matter," your shrug. "They say it more as a courtesy. They'll forget I'm even gone."
"Ah," he mutters, though you don't seem too fazed by it. Almost like this is the norm for you. Maybe it is...
He takes you to his van, opening your door like a gentleman and loading you in. He hops into his own seat, slamming his door extra hard because it's been pretty stubborn lately.
As soon as he starts the engine, his music blares through the speakers, "Holy Diver" by Dio. You flinch, shocked by the sound but not upset. He immediately goes to turn it down, and once he's dialed it one way, you dial it the other.
Eddie looks over at you, your head already banging to the music as you rock enthusiastically in your seat. He stares at you, his parted lips curling in a grin. He thinks you're amazing.
"Are we going?" you ask half-jokingly when you catch him staring, speaking so loud you nearly blow your vocal chords trying speak over the music. You poke his side.
He over-exaggerates, recoiling in on himself and flailing back against his window like he'd been shot. You roll your eyes. And he lays there for a while, really dragging it out until you lightly smack his shoulder. The music blares.
"Eddie!"
"Ow– Hey!" he exclaims, even though you barely touched him.
You shake your head. "Drive."
"Okay, bossy," he says. He turns the music down just a bit and starts down the road. It's still loud, and your parents might get a complaint, but it's unlikely because the neighbors would be too afraid of offending them.
He nods lightly to the music, turning it down another smudge to ask, "You hungry?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes. He's going to give you a hernia.
"Not much," you shrug. "You?"
He also shrugs, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the wheel. He leans on his right arm rest, glancing over at you. "I'm always down for food," he winks. "But we could probably wait 'til we get there."
"If you wanna eat, we can."
He shakes his head. "Nag, we'll have a shit ton of free time. We'll be, like," he checks the time, "three hours early."
You snort. He's usually three hours late.
"Okay," you nod. You turn to him, smiling. "Oh, we could check out this new place my parent's friend's daughter told me about."
He laughs lightly, "Is she not your friend?"
You shrug a shoulder. As far as your friendships go, you recognize you don't really have many. Chrissy is the love of your life, as you tell her constantly, but she's the only person you've held close to your heart for years.
But your parents are rich. Their friends' kids are supposed to be your friends, but you've never acclimated to that thinking.
"Eh," you mumble. "We don't really consider ourselves friends, we just know each other." Her parents are also rich, and she's within the same category as you.
He hums. "Yeah, we can check it out." He sets his hand closer to yours, his pinky brushing yours. To avoid seeming too intimate, not wanting to complicate the friendship you've created, he wraps his pinky with yours and shakes it around.
Not intimate, just friendly.
"Is it fancy?"
You shake your head. "Not really." I squeeze his finger, grabbing his hand in both yours and forming his to lace your fingers together. "My parents and their rich friends spoil me with expensive stuff all the time, so I like the cheaper stuff a little more."
You purse your lips, looking away from your hands to look at his face. "But I don't like telling people that because I feel like I sound bratty."
He shakes his head. "Nah, you're not bratty." He lets go of your hand and lightly nudges the side of your face with his palm. You snort, swatting his hand away. "You're just bossy."
"Shut up," you laugh.
His face lights up at the proof of him being right. "See?" he laughs. "You're bossy. You're so bossy!"
You roll your eyes at him, "If you weren't driving, I'd hit you."
His eyes widen. "You're violent," he accuses. "You're violent now!"
You groan loudly, turning away from him with the most exaggeration you can manage. He laughs loudly. It's a ridiculous guffaw, and you feel the van swerve a little. You're so used to his driving by now, though, that it doesn't faze you.
When his laughter dies down and you're urge to burst into your own fit of giggles eases with it, he sighs dramatically to announce the end of his joke. "So," he hums, "if I gave you the choice to go someplace fancy with the best steak in town or a McDonald's," he leans toward you, tearing his eyes from the road at a stoplight to look at you, "what are you picking?"
You let a slow smile spread across your lips as you look at his stupid face with his stupid eyes and his stupid nose, and his stupid lips. You chuckle lightly, taking him in some more. "Well, you can't beat those nuggets."
He laughs again, still just as loud and dramatic as the first one. You love it, and you can't help but to laugh with him this time.
"No, you can't." He smiles at you, staring at your face a little longer than he probably should.
Eddie jumps when a loud honk interrupts his examination. Turning to the light, he sees that it is a very bright green. "Shit," he curses under his breath as he steps on the gas.
The van jolts, but your gaze lingered on him too long to notice. A slip of anxiety creeps up on you as a thought flashes behind your eyes. You hook your finger through one of the holes in your fishnets. You lean on your armrest. "Was that your way of asking me out, or am I dreaming?" You say it with enough amusement coloring your voice that it gives you the option to back out of it as a joke as soon as it is required.
And it was required.
"Fast asleep, Princess," he smiles, chuckling lightly as his eyes stay on the road in front of him. You ignore the stutter in your heart, covering your disappointment with a chuckle of your own and roll your eyes.
"Playing hard to get, huh?" you joke, trying not to be too sad about his lack of falling in love with you. You've still got him, even if you don't have him in your arms.
Eddie's fingers reach for the dashboard as he turns up the radio, turning the heavy rock up louder and louder. "What?" he shouts over the music, drowning your giggles in the song (though he can still hear them because he's listening very specifically for them). "I can't hear you over the music. What did you say?"
You smack his shoulder, giddy with his jokes. "Asshole!" you exclaim, crossing your arms in a faux pout. You both laugh out loud, big and dramatic and happy to be there. And as he turns down the radio before he blows your precious eardrums, he finds himself oddly tender with the sound of your joy. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he has to breathe a little more to steady his traitor of a heart.
~
You're nearly late, despite arriving there a whole hour early. Eddie had found a McDonald's and got so caught up in taking you that you both lost the time. You were in the middle of wiping Sweet N Sour sauce off his face when you realized it on the hands of your watch.
You almost got pulled over twice.
But you get there just as the lights are dimming. It's a huge opener—guitars and drums and screaming vocals, fans cheering and crying, headbanging and jumping and a couple of already too-drunk patrons puking in the back.
Eddie is ecstatic. He loves every part of it—the screaming, the crying, the puking. He takes it all in stride and stands really close to you as he does it.
He keeps looking at your face. Through the haze of flashing lights and so much excitement his heart might stop, he keeps looking at your face. You're really pretty, dressed in his style, smiling like a maniac, dancing to his music.
He was so scared you would hate it, this scene, his scene. He was scared you were going to show up and stand uncomfortably, smile in that people-pleasing way and bear through it until it was over.
But you don't.
You're beautiful. You glow under the lights, you're wonderful as you dance and sway and headbang to hell.
You keep smiling at him. You keep grabbing his hands and jumping to the beat of the music, and he jumps with you and he holds your hands. He can't help but adore you.
Part of him hopes it doesn't stick. He's not sure he could handle his heart beating this fast.
By the time the concert is over, you're both sweaty and hyped and tired but so happy. You both flash your VIP passes—you more confidently than him—and rush backstage with all the other VIPs.
He's buzzing with excitement as his sweaty hand shakes that of each member of the band. He does it wide-eyed, gleaming and entirely unbelieving. If his other hand was gripping yours, he'd think this was a dream.
A really freaky, amazing dream.
You both get shirts, personal autographs, and a lifelong experience that you load into his van with buzzing and heavy limbs. He helps you in, closing your door like a gentleman, and you slump against your seat.
Eddie gets in, slamming his door shut because it's a little stubborn. He starts the engine and turns the radio down all the way to a gentle background hum.
He doesn't turn his eyes toward you until he's pulled out of the insanity that is leaving the parking lot. When he glances over at you, you're asleep.
He'd wanted to thank you.
You're really pretty like this: eyes delicately closed, lips slightly parted. Granted, you're always pretty.
He has to look away before his chest starts hurting again.
Fuck.
He looks away from you quickly, gripping the wheel to get a handle on himself. He didn't mean to do this, to like you. Being friends was one thing, becoming best friends was another...
But actually starting to like you...
He isn't supposed to. You don't live in his world. He doesn't live in yours. More than that...
Actually, he's not sure. He just knows that... he wasn't supposed to begin liking you. His feelings for you were supposed to remain platonic.
But now he's not so sure.
There are a couple things he's sure of though.
You're beautiful, dressed like a metalhead or a cheerleader, you're beautiful. And he adores you, inside and out. And he wants you to know that.
~
"Hey, Princess."
You turn, giving Eddie a wide smile as he walks up to your locker. He's got his hand behind his back in an obvious, and you laugh at that as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. "Hi, Eddie."
He leans on your locker, nervous and proud at the same time as he smiles. His hair is freshly washed—still damp and curly with conditioner. It'll be fully frizzed by the end of the day, you know it.
"I got you something. Well, I made you something," he says. "Close your eyes." You do as you're told, smiling as you do. "Give me your hand."
You're almost giddy as you lift it, presenting it to him. He sets something in your palm. It's light, your brows furrow.
"Okay, open."
You do, looking at your palm. Your smile falls a little as you look at it. A bracelet made with black leather, braided together with a few little silver beads woven in. You look at the silver charm. A skull with a crown on it.
He made this himself.
"Eddie..." You swallow thickly, blinking quickly so you aren't crying your mascara off. People don't do things like this for you—no one but Chrissy.
"Do you hate it?" There's an anxiety there that kick-starts your heart. He braces himself for a 'yes' before you have to remind him that you're you, and you're deeply in love with him.
"I love it," you urge him, using your best smile to convince him of that fact. "It's beautiful."
Hope sparks in his eyes. He smiles a bit. "Really?"
"Yeah!" you promise. "I'll wear it forever."
You shove it in his hand, and he immediately understands your request without you even having to ask. You hold out your wrist as he fastens the bracelet on. It's a perfect fit.
You coo as you look at it. "I really love this, Eddie..." Then suddenly, "Oh! This reminds me. I got this for you–"
"No, no," he stops you, holding out a hand as you reach into your locker. "This was a gift. I'm gifting this to you."
You slump slightly, your smile falling into a confused frown as you sigh. "But..." you fiddle with the charm, "I wanna pay you back."
He shakes his head, not unkindly. "No need. I technically owe you a lot, I'm sure those tickets were expensive as hell."
You're feeling a little...nervous. No one refuses gifts from you, ever—except Chrissy, when they're really excessive. But this isn't. It's just an Iron Maiden vinyl record, one of those limited addition ones you have to really look for.
Your parents had bought it a while back at an auction because a lot of people were bidding on it. But it just sits in a case in the living room collecting dust—they don't listen to that kind of music. They only got it because a lot of people wanted it.
Eddie would like it. He'd appreciate it...
"But–"
"No buts," he says, his tone final. "Let me do this for you."
You pull your hand away from your locker, sighing. You nod slowly, offering a weak smile. "Okay..."
This isn't the last time that happens. Through the next few weeks, Eddie keeps declining your gifts. You try to give him the record, but before you can even get the words "I got you something" past your lips, he's telling you that you don't need to get him anything and giving you his own gift instead.
You feel like you've done something wrong.
He's giving you a lot of gifts. It's becoming harder and harder to accept them, but you couldn't stand refusing one of the presents he's made specially or used hard-earned money on for you. You couldn't do that to him, it would break his heart. But...
It's a lot of gifts. And he isn't even letting you repay the favor to make it even.
There's a problem. You just don't know what. So you do the only thing you can do.
You ask Chrissy.
You walk up the steps to Chrissy's house, pushing the door open and heading straight up the stairs.
"Hello, Y/N," Chrissy's father calls, not lifting his eyes from his newspaper.
"Hi, Mr. Cunningham." You go down the hall, barging through Chrissy's door and closing it tightly behind you. She steps out of her closet, her brows furrowed as she looks at you. Though she's unsurprised.
She does this to you almost as often as you do to her, though you have admittedly more drama than her. You're more radioactive than she is.
"We have a crisis." You plop down on her bed.
She leans on the frame of her closet door, crossing her arms over her chest. "What crisis?"
You lay down, covering your face with your hands and, in doing so, muffling your words. "I think Eddie's mad at me."
She understands you perfectly. "Why?" she asks as she walks over and sets her hands on your thighs, leaning over you. You look at her. "What happened?"
"He's not taking any of my gifts anymore!" You sit up on your hands, but she doesn't move. "I'm trying to give him stuff 'cause he keeps getting me stuff. I mean, whenever I'm mad at my parents, and they try to bribe me to get over it, I just don't accept their gifts."
She shrugs. "Okay," she thinks. She moves off of you, walking back to her closet. "But why would he give you things if he was mad at you?" She disappears inside. "Besides, what have you done?"
You stand, following her in. She's sifting through her wardrobe, looking for her outfit for tomorrow. She does it every day, usually with your help.
"I don't know!" you sigh, looking through her choice of skirts. "That's why I'm worried. I don't know what I've done, and guys are weird."
She holds up two skirts to show you: one short and flowy pale blue and one bright pink two sizes too small. You hum, picking the blue. The pink doesn't suit her skin anyway.
"Or maybe," you continue, "maybe he thinks I'm mad at him, and that's why he keeps giving me stuff."
She shakes her head. "I think you're reading too much into this, babe."
Your head shake is far more intense than hers. "I am reading perfectly into this. I show my love by buying people things, I gift give! I'm basically Santa as a teenage girl. Here." You pass her a white shirt, long sleeved and pretty.
She takes it. "Thanks." Then she hums. "Interesting analogy."
You shrug, sitting on the little stool in her closet with a sigh. "I mean, how would Santa feel if kids just...stopped taking his gifts and started giving him a whole bunch of them?"
Probably special, Chrissy thinks.
"He'd be frantic!"
Chrissy can't help but giggle lightly at that. She loves you, but you're a little ridiculous sometimes. She shakes her head and turns to you and picks up two pairs of shoes. She holds them up as she kneels in front of you, showing them off. "Have you tried talking to him?"
You choose the white sneakers over the black flats. "I don't want to say something bad and mess this up." You rest your chin in your hand. "We were doing so well."
She sighs, setting both pairs down. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."
You sigh. "You're right." And then you stand. "It's worse."
She stands and places her hands on your shoulders, making you sit again. "Okay, maybe you're exaggerating this a little bit."
Your shoulders slump. "Am I?"
"Yes." She laughs lightly to take the weight off it. She breathes in slowly. "Take a breath. Calm down."
She takes your head and takes you back into her bedroom, making you sit on the bed. She sits across from her, her legs crossed as she sways some hair behind her ear. She takes your hands.
"Eddie is not rich, he doesn't have a lot of money like your family," she begins to explain. "People who are not rich don't always enjoy accepting gifts because it makes them feel like they're inconveniencing you."
Your brows pull together, and you frown. "He's not an inconvenience."
"I know," she smiles. It looks beautiful on her. "He's already gotten so much stuff from you, plus those tickets? I'm not surprised he's trying to pay you back. He's not going to let you give him anything else until he feels like he has."
You assume the worst, looking down at your joined hands and sighing. "So that we're even, and he can stop feeling obligated to be friends with me."
"No," she urges. "So he can stop thinking that you might think he's using you for your money." She shrugs, "He probably just feels bad."
You think about her reasoning. Her explanation actually makes way more sense than your own.
"Yeah," she says. "Just talk to him. I'm sure it's just that."
You sigh, covering your face. "This is so weird."
She takes your wrists, pulling them away. Her voice takes on an annoyed tone. You can practically hear her eye rolls. "Because most of the people who are 'friends' with you are only friends because you buy them nice things."
You nod. "Yeah."
"Except for me, of course," she smiles, almost proudly.
You chuckle. "Except for you."
She sighs, letting go of you and shoving you to stand. "Go talk to Eddie."
You take a breath. "Okay..." You give her your best smile. "Thanks, Chris. You're the best." You kiss her cheek on the way out as you turn toward the door.
"I know," she says matter-of-factly. "Love you."
You open her door, peering your head in. You kiss at her. "Love you back."
She begins to stand. "Also," she looks back at you, tilting her head, "tell your bitch mom to stop shrinking your clothes so she can loosen them. She's an ugly old hag–"
"Y/N!"
"–and you're beautiful and perfect, and I love you. I'm serious, I'll beat her ass."
"Leave!" She closes the door in your face, but you know she's laughing on the other side, grateful for your comments.
~
Eddie is sitting on the porch with his acoustic when you drive up. The engine halts when you pull out your key, standing and closing the door behind you. He likes your car. It's sleek and beautiful. Very expensive because your parents bought it for you when you first got your license.
He keeps strumming his guitar as you make your way up the stairs. "Hey, Princess," he greets you.
"Hey," you mutter, the nerves grabbing at your throat as you come to stand next to him. You fidget with your fingers, sitting next to him on the bench.
"Eds, can we talk?"
He hums, still strumming. "About what?" When you don't respond, he looks up at you. He stops, moving his guitar off his lap with furrowed brows.
"Woah," he says, noticing your worried face. "What's wrong?"
You take a moment to think, sighing as you try to figure out what you were going to say. You rehearsed it in the car, thoroughly, and it's all blanking staring at his wide eyes, brown as coffee.
"Are you mad at me?"
He looks confused. "Why would you think that?" He grabs your hand, and you don't know if you're imagining his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
"Because you aren't letting me gift you things."
He doesn't do what you expect—though you're not entirely sure what you were expecting. Eddie smiles, a wide thing that splits his face in two. His eyes almost look like they're shining as he looks at you. You don't feel patronized when he does it, either. It's oddly warming.
"You think I'm mad at you because I'm not letting you gift me things?" he clarifies, almost shocked, though he knows he shouldn't be.
So he's not mad at you? That makes you feel a little better...
"Well," you sigh. "When my parents and I argue, they buy me things to make me feel better. I always say no."
He softens, smiling gently and taking your hand between his. "Sweetheart," he says slowly, "I'm not mad at you. I just don't want you to think I only like you for your money, especially after that concert. That's a huge gesture for someone you only started hanging out with two months ago."
You sigh, looking away from his eyes to think. Chrissy was right, he feels guilty for accepting your gifts. This whole thing is new to you. You're so used up from serving everybody else. Now someone is trying to serve you, and you completely mistook it for anger...
"I'm not used to that," you admit.
"To what?"
You shrug, "People not accepting gifts from me... other than Chrissy." You smile a little, but it falls quickly. Sighing, you look back up at him, squeezing his hands just a slight. "Most of my friends are friends because I bought them their prom tickets last year or invited them to a party or something."
Eddie smiles again. He seems to scoot closer to you, both your thighs squishing together and leaving no space between your bodies. He nudges your shoulder and then pushes you away a bit because he's too affectionate. "I don't like you because you have money and buy me nice things." He chuckles lightly. "Actually, the reason I didn't like you in the first place was because you have money and buy people nice things."
You smile a little and Eddie feels like the special-est person on Earth. He knows it's silly and too affectionate but he can't help it. Eddie's crooked finger hooks underneath your chin and lifts it to look right at him. "I like you for you."
It's moments like these when your love for Eddie can't be measured. It's moments like these when your love for Eddie feels more mature than a schoolgirl crush. It's that moment when you're imagining more than parties or prom or dates or celebrations, when your mind is full of thoughts of sitting quietly in the living room or watching a movie at three o'clock in the afternoon because it's a stay-at-home-day or fixing dinner as he wraps his arms around your waist and sets his chin on your shoulder or reading a book while he scratches his head and files taxes at the kitchen table.
You smile fondly, and Eddie thinks you're the strongest whiskey because he gets dizzy at the sight of you.
"Really?" you mumble, your voice soft and sweet.
"Yeah," he nods. "You're awesome, sweetheart."
You love when Eddie calls you 'Princess' in that funny, affectionate way, but when he calls you 'sweetheart; you lose all your senses in the blink of an eye.
"Really?" It's the only thing you can think to say.
"Absolutely."
"Okay..."
Then you get brave—as brave as you can get. Licking your bottom lip, you look down at your lap and smile nervously. To have to gather the courage to look him in the eye as you smile gently at him. "You know how you can repay me for the concert?"
He laughs, shaking his head. "How?"
You bite the inside of your cheek, another breath for courage—"Go to prom with me?"
Eddie's smile falls. "I-"
"You don't have to go as my date. I just don't want to go alone," you say quickly, trying not to trap him or manipulate him or make him think you're trying to do either. "Chrissy's going with Jason, and I don't want to be a third wheel..." You sigh, looking him in the eyes and feeling your heart palpitating.
"Please?"
You're going to kill him one day, he's sure of it. The way his heart kicks at the sight of your pleading eyes is fatal, and he knows it because he can feel it in his chest. He sighs. It's his own fault. He let you be friends, and now he's head over heels...
"...Sure," he agrees. When you beam at him, the largest grin he's ever seen in his life, it's all worth it, his stupidity. "We'll go together."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says. "Just two friends...going to prom."
You'll take that. You would take a million "just two friends" over "we don't talk anymore". You'd do anything for him. "Yeah," you smile. "Thanks, Eds."
It's all worth it to see you smile. "No problem."
~
Eddie's nervous. You can tell in the way he keeps bumping into you. You would dismiss it as just the way the place is crowded, stocked to the brim with sweaty bodies, some already drunk in the first hour and others high.
Eddie's been to parties before, obviously. He's done senior year three times, of course he's been to parties.
But he's not used to being around so many people and not being stared at. Almost no one is looking at him.
"Why are we going to this thing again?" he'd asked as you were getting ready.
You shrugged. "It's pre-prom."
"But there's actual prom."
You smoothed out your lipstick before you turned to him. "Yeah, but actual prom is kinda boring 'cause of the family-friendly rules. Pre-prom is hosted by students with no real adult supervision, so...less boring." You shrugged again, turning away to fix a stray hair. "Besides, I have to make an appearance. Me and Chrissy since we're in the running for Prom Queen. Otherwise, we get no votes."
"People'll vote for you anyway," he smiled.
"I always just want a drink or two."
He laughed a little. "We can just go to my place then." When you shook your head and laughed at him, he did the same. "Why am I going?"
"Because you have to. 'Cause you're my date." You turned quickly, eyes wide and hands out, "My plus one." You think about it for a moment. "My friend-date."
"Your date," he agrees, nodding and laughing and hoping you don't freak out because he called himself your date when you're just going as friends. Just friends.
"Yeah, I'll go with you, Princess." He sighs dramatically so he doesn't sound too wistful.
But now he wishes he'd convinced you to just go to his place and lounge on his couch, watching stupid movies and eating popcorn and then throwing popcorn at the screen when they do something stupid.
He holds your hand. You squeeze it, pulling him further inside with you and comforting him with all you have.
It becomes easier when you find Chrissy. Chrissy is very welcoming and helps you help Eddie settle because she's sweet and you're sweet and he loves you—your sweetness—he loves your sweetness.
When he has a beer in his hand—his only beer tonight, he's decided—and your hand in his other, he's laughing and letting you dance around him. Some people get upset with him when he accidentally bumps into them, and others give him dirty looks for the sake of giving dirty looks, but under the light in your eyes, he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice.
He watches your nose scrunch up in that adorable way that means you're truly happy. He keeps looking at you with the fondest eyes and the gentlest touches and the most wonderful smiles. You can't take it—he's so pretty with his doe eyes and smile lines and long lashes and his big nose and crazy hair and plump lips.
"Quit smiling at me," you giggle, pulling on his hand in yours. "I can't focus when you look at me like that."
"Like what?" he laughs. Then he makes a face, his eyes going wide and his smile showing all his teeth and his brows pulling together goofily. "Like this?"
"No, not like that," you laugh, smacking his shoulder lightly. He hears a squeak in your giggle and is thrown into his own fit. All your best laughs have squeaks in them. "Go back to how you were!"
You're both too sweet on each other, and he laces your fingers together to make sure you can't go away—even though you'd never.
"Oh, so now you want me to look at you?" he hums.
"Just not like a crazy person." He pulls you in so you're flat against his chest, and you don't have time to let your breath hitch until he's spinning you out again.
"How does a crazy person look?" He sets his beer down, pushing his hands into his hair and shaking it up. It sticks out all kinds of ways, a total mess.
"Like that," you nod dramatically.
"Like that?"
"Yeah." You add to the madness, your fingers carding through his hair. "Certified insane. It's a good look on you."
He snorts, fixing his hair again, "Yeah, I think so, too." When it's only in slight disarray, he sighs and looks down at you.
Eddie thinks you're beautiful. He likes your hair and your face and your soft hands and your pretty lips and bright eyes. He wants to hug you, but he'll settle for taking your hand when he realizes he's been staring at you for too long.
He starts pulling you with him as he walks. "Come on. I–"
A surprised gasp forces its way from your chest. You don't have time to process what's happening until after it's done. All you know is that it gets really cold and wet, and now your white dress is stained a bright red.
A round of snickering is heard above you. You look up to see a group of boys laughing obnoxiously over the stairs, a large bowl once filled with punch braced in their hands as they do. Everyone stands in shock, all talk ceasing when they see the sight of you drenched in red and these boys cracking up from it. It takes them a moment to catch wise...
Eddie is the first one to snap out of the shock, ignoring his hand, sleeve, and shoes just as wet. He mumbles something under his breath. Even in the relative silence, you don't make out the tiny "baby" that slips from his lips.
He sees your bottom lip tremble, your lashes already clumped with punch now clumping with the oncoming tears. The sudden urge to make everything okay again fills every inch of his bones. And as he looks up at these boys who'd hurt you, he wants nothing more than to let his fist meet pompous cheekbones.
"Tommy?" Your voice is meek, wavering with a brimming sorrow.
The other boys stop laughing immediately, looking down at you as their eyes fill with shock...and even fear. Tommy H, the main culprit, isn't so quick. When he notices their sudden change, he looks down as well.
That was meant for Eddie. Not you.
Now he knows fear.
Eddie watches your face contort even more until you're crying, tears falling down your cheeks and adding to the mess. He reaches out for your face, but you don't seem to notice as you rush past him, sniffles and all.
Eddie doesn't even get to shoot Tommy a threatening glare. He completely forgets about him for the moment in favor of following you through the house and out of the door, his shoes squeak-squeaking behind him.
He guesses you notice him following, because you reach a hand out behind you and catch his as you continue running out. Everyone parts ways, letting you pass without trouble. Eddie hears shouting behind him but keeps after you without a second thought.
You make it all the way to his van, parked outside in the crowded mess of cars and trucks. He opens the back doors for you so you can sit properly. You do, dropping your face in your hands as your chest heaves and you sob.
"Are you okay?" he asks, almost frantically. He runs his hands through your hair and gets you to look up at him so he can see your face clearly. It's covered in tears and punch and running mascara.
That same silent "oh, baby," passes his lips again, but you can hardly see the movement of it through your tears, so it's lost on you once more. Eddie's hands move to cradle your face. You keep sniffling, letting your body shake with shuddering breaths.
A horrible feeling curls in his chest. "Jesus," he mutters ruefully. "I should go back there and beat his ass."
He looks in the direction of the house, but you're already stopping him. "No, wait," you sniff. "It's okay."
But he's pissed. "No, it definitely is not okay–"
He's cut off by the sound of the front door opening forcefully. You both turn to see what's happening. As soon as you see Tommy H's freckled face, you hide in Eddie's chest. His gentle hands keep you there, rubbing and comforting you.
Tommy's running. He and the friends who hadn't escaped bolt from the house faster than Eddie thinks he's ever seen anyone run.
Someone hollers inside, and suddenly the entire football team is chasing after the boys, shouting and whooping and out for blood in the cover of street lamps in the night.
Directly behind them, Chrissy, Steve Harrington, and some brown-haired girl, stand by the door. They look after the boys but ultimately turn toward you. Chrissy doesn't look at all worried.
Eddie's attention is caught by a shouting voice.
"Y/N!" Jason Carver yells. "Do you need a ride home?"
You look up from Eddie's chest, wipe your face a little, and shake your head. "No. Eddie's taking me." You sniffle pitifully, "But thank you, Jason."
He nods, "No problem." Turning to Eddie, he raises his finger in a harsh point. "Take her home safe, Munson, or I'll skin you like a cat." He turns in the direction they're running, still in sight. He shouts loudly. "You better fucking run, you son of a bitch!"
"Hey, it's okay," you say, "You can let Tommy go." Eddie looks at you, obviously disagreeing, but says nothing.
Jason makes a face. "Why would I do that?" Then he's off again, shouting after the team and the runners.
You look toward the figures walking toward you and Eddie. Chrissy shakes her head gently, seemingly amused (only to you) but not smiling. Steve's expression is completely different, as he looks genuinely concerned but ultimately sympathetic. The other girl looks worried.
"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks, setting his hands on his hips and leaning.
You nod, wiping your nose and rubbing your hands on your wet clothes. It's not coming out. "Yeah..." you mumble, squeezing a couple tears out.
He sighs, "Tommy's way outta line for that one. I'm sorry, princess."
Eddie gets jealous for a moment that he's called you by his name for you before he remembers... Everyone calls you princess. It's basically your name.
"S'okay."
You glance at the girl, who gives a small nervous smile. She mouths silently, "I'm Robin." You give her the best smile you can manage. "Hope you're okay," she says gently.
Chrissy nods gently to herself. She shoots you a look, "Don't catch a cold." She looks at Eddie. "Get home safe. Both of you. Bye, babe."
You wave at her, a tiny lift of your hand from your lap. Another tear slips down your cheek.
"Come on, sweetheart."
Eddie braces a hand behind your back and eases you to stand. You do, taking his hand and letting him lead you. Steve pats his back gently before he's stepping away. Eddie closes the back door and opens your own like a gentleman. The three wave their goodbyes and start back toward the house.
He closes your door and goes to his side. The engine roars to life after having to twist the key a couple times. He starts driving. You're really quiet.
Eddie reaches a hand down and sets it gently on your knee, hoping it's not weird but also too worried about you to care. "Are you okay, Princess?"
You nod. "Yeah." You take in a large breath.
He shakes his head, his hand flexing on the wheel. "Why would you want them to let him go?" He hates the idea of someone hurting you and getting away with it. You deserve so much more.
"Hm?" You look at him, wiping the tears in your eyes. "Oh, I don't." You clear your throat and sniff. As you lick your lips, your face scrunches at the taste of alcoholic punch and lipstick. Eddie watches you try to wipe your face clean as best you can with your hands.
Your face scrunches. "Shit, I'm all sticky now."
Eddie's going to get whiplash.
"What?"
"Hm?" you look at him again. All evidence of your crying is gone. Your teary eyes are now only slightly watering, with your face kind of clean, no new fresh tears take their place. The sadness is wiped clean. You look back at him with the least amount of sorrow he's ever seen on you.
When you feel the van turning, you say his name and it swerves back in place. He puts his other hand back on the wheel.
"You were faking it?"
Suddenly, you smile. Eddie can't stand you.
"Of course," you say, shrugging. "It's just punch."
He sighs, feeling a little stupid but mostly just...amused. And really fucking relieved. He hates seeing you cry. You deserve so much more.
"I thought you were upset."
You laugh and he no longer has any reason to be upset. "No," you chuckle, "but Tommy's not happy."
He shakes his head. "I'm so confused."
You smile and sigh gently. "Thomas Hagan just poured a whole punch bowl on me—" you make doe eyes, "—the sweet, innocent princess of Hawkins—and then laughed his ass off like it was the funniest shit in the world." You shake your head, not at all upset. "He's not coming back from that."
Eddie smiles slowly. You're enjoying this. "You little–"
"He'll be blacklisted. No more hangouts, no more parties. He's done."
Eddie can't believe you. "Manipulative."
You pinch your fingers slightly and smile as you look through them. "Just a little."
"You're seriously not upset?" he wonders.
You're drenched head to toe, your hair is clumpy, your skin is sticky, your makeup is running all over your face, and your dress is forever ruined. But you're smiling like all is well with the world.
Again, you shrug. "I'll have to take a long shower now, but I'm okay."
He snorts lightly. "I bet."
You lean in slowly, smirking and bobbing your brows. "Never get on my bad side." A reminder. The one he asked for the last time Tommy had done something unbecoming.
And Eddie laughs. Not because he doesn't take you seriously, but because he just likes you so much. You are... everything to him.
Doing his best to keep his eyes on the road, he laughs loudly and fills the van with the sound of it. You get giddy at accomplishing such a feat and can't help but laugh with him. It's loud and obnoxious and just what you both needed. Warmth blooms in your chest, despite the cold shivers coming in, and you couldn't be happier.
~
Eddie pulls up on the curb, opening your door—like a gentleman—and helping you out. You mumble a quick apology about his sticky seats, to which he replies that those seats have seen worse. You don't know what he means, but you're hoping your idea is wrong.
In the driveway, yours and your dad's cars are parked and idle. Your mother is gone on a business trip—her boss' secretary—so he's probably home alone.
"Play it cool," you whisper to Eddie as you get to the door, messing with your sticky hair to make it look worse than it is. "How do I look?"
"Terrible," he lies.
"Great," you beam. You let your face fall immediately, and you look pitifully pretty.
You take Eddie's hand and let him open the door for you. As he's closing it, you glance around. "Daddy?"
"Yes, honey." You hear his footsteps as he enters the foyer. He turns the corner, "I thought you would be out longer–"
He looks up, stopping abruptly as he realizes what a mess you are. He furrows his brows, walking closer. "What happened to you?" He goes in to hug you, pausing when he sniffs. "Why do you smell like that?"
"Just..." you sniffle and Eddie watches a tear slip down your cheek. He thinks you're ridiculous, and he loves every moment of it. "Something happened at the party."
He picks up your hands and holds them in his palms. "What happened?"
You shake your head, looking down at the buttons of his shirt. Eddie stands close behind you, a hand on your back for support. It's warm, and you like the feeling of it. "Nothing."
"No," your father hums, tilting your chin up to look at him, "tell me."
You take in a big breath and let it out in a sigh. Your bottom lip trembles. "Tommy H," you confess. "He poured punch over my head on top of the stairs." You will more tears from your eyes. Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, "I'm sure it was an accident... He probably didn't mean to do it."
Technically, he didn't. It was meant for Eddie. But that's no better. You did warn him.
He raises a brow. "It looks like he spilled the whole bowl on you." He looks at his hand, red fruit punch staining his palm now.
You nod, a slow up and down that has him frowning deeper.
"Hey," he hums. "He won't mess with you anymore."
"Really?"
He nods, holding your chin. "Of course. No one messes with my little girl and gets away with it. We're cutting him off."
Bingo.
You shake your head, "It's okay. You don't have to do that."
He smiles gently, "But I will." He nudges your chin gently before letting you go. "Go get washed up."
He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and begins wiping his hands clean. "Thank you, Daddy." You would hug him, but you're still sticky. You're sure he wouldn't mind, but you'd rather avoid the mess anyway.
"Of course, honey." You kiss his cheek as you turn toward the stairs with Eddie's hand in yours. As his foot lands on the first stair, your father stops him.
"Hey."
Eddie turns.
"Did you drive her home?"
"Yes, sir."
He grunts. "Did you beat that Tommy kid up?"
Eddie shakes his head. "No, sir. Jockeys had him," he looks at you, spying a gleam in your eyes and smiling a bit. "I was just trying to get her home."
There's a short silence as your father smiles. He gives a firm nod, "Good man."
Relief fills his chest as he nods back. "Thank you, sir." You pull him up the stairs. He takes off his jacket.
You close the door behind him, your smile returning as you kick off your shoes. "Not only did we blacklist Tommy," you turn back to him, "but my dad also loves you now. Congrats."
Eddie furrows his brow as he heads toward your bathroom. "He does?" He turns on the sink, washing his sticky hands.
You nod. "Yeah." You disappear into your closet, coming back a moment later with a towel on your arm. "That's fatherly approval. You defended my honor, my knight in shining armor."
You take his arm and kiss his cheek as you walk past him. He feels giddy. "At least someone's parents love me." He starts taking off his shoes, setting them next to yours. Eddie sits at the edge of your bed.
You snort. "I'm gonna take a shower. Don't be a perv."
He kicks the floor playfully and sighs. "Ruined my whole night."
You point at him threateningly. "I'll tell my dad on you."
"I'll take pictures with me then. To remember you by." He winks.
You return the wink. "I'll make sure to pose for you."
You disappear into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Eddie sits in your room, smiling pathetically, so happy that you're okay and he's okay and he's your knight in shining armor.
Here he is, smiling like an idiot, surrounded by the scent of you in your room with all your pictures and all your knick-knacks. He slides onto the floor, resting his head back on the mattress. God, he's in trouble.
He's flipping through one of the books on your shelves when you come out, a cloud of steam following you as you dry your hair. He looks over your outfit, smiling but offering you a confused look.
"Is that mine?"
You look down at your shirt, one of his band tees that you'd taken a couple weeks ago. He'd been looking for that. You can keep it.
"Yeah," you nod. "I stole it from your room."
He chuckles. "Well, finders, keepers, I guess."
You smile, walking toward your drawer stocked with VHS tapes. "You wanna watch a movie? I can go make popcorn."
"Sure." He raises his brows. "Can I take a shower? I don't wanna get spiked punch everywhere."
You snort. "Course. There are towels in there, and some of your clothes are in my closet."
He tilts his head, sighing. "How many of my clothes have you stolen?"
You raise your hands in defense. "Just a few shirts and like...one pair of sweatpants."
He shakes his head at you as he goes to get a pair. He closes the bathroom door softly behind him.
He likes your bathroom. It's clean and mostly organized. It smells like lavender and rose, pearly whites and pale blues. He almost expected pink.
~
Eddie appreciated the weight of your body against his as you lean into his side. Labyrinth plays on the TV as the minutes tick by into the night.
He keeps looking at you, your heavy eyes drooping as you struggle to stay awake. It's late. You should be sleeping, but you're staying awake for him. It takes a lot not to turn his head and kiss the top of your own.
"You're warm," you mumble.
He smiles a little. "Yeah?" With the arm thrown over your shoulders, his fingers play with your hair. "You gettin' sleepy?" He knows the answer.
You nod, a sluggish movement against his arm. "Mhm."
He picks up the remote slowly, turning down the TV just a little more. "You should go to sleep then."
Your body becomes a little heavier against him. He takes all your weight, proud to. "Mmm," you slur. "Finish the movie."
A very light chuckle, as light as he can make it, eases from his chest. "We can finish it another time," he says so, so softly.
"No...Watch it now."
He does kiss your hairline this time, leaning his cheek on the top of your head. "Go to sleep, bossy."
He's not sure if you mean to say it, he's not even sure if you know you've said it. But when you whisper that little "love you", he loses his mind.
He smiles so wide, he feels his whole face start to hurt. He hadn't realized it would make him so happy to hear that, to hear your little confession spoken gently into the warmth of his chest. He turns his head so his words go into your hair. "Yeah?"
"Mmm."
He opens his mouth, thinks, and smiles. "I love you, too, baby."
You hum, and then he feels you slump. He doesn't mind. He doesn't mind the way he can't move his arm, he doesn't mind the way your hair gets in his face. He turns off the TV, leans back as slowly as he can, and lays the both of you down against your pillow to sleep.
You love him.
~
The entire day consists of Chrissy at your place getting ready for prom. The music doesn't stop and neither does the energy. You keep her happy and entertained and well-fed and then distracted again with more excitement so she doesn't get self-conscious and start panicking.
You also spend a lot of time keeping all the parents from the room. Your mothers keep trying to "help", and you keep having to kick them out because they're both annoying and overbearing.
Eddie keeps calling you. The walky-talky Dustin gave you both goes off regularly, at least once an hour to ask a question you'd had answered for days now.
"It is red, right? Not blue? It can't be blue; Chrissy's wearing blue." "Which knot are we doing on the bowtie? Wayne only knows the simple one but he's got a magazine with the other ones." "Am I leaving my hair down?" "I drive to your place, and then we take your car, right?"
"Yes, it's red. The whole outfit we picked is right." "Try the simple one. I can fix it if it looks weird, but it shouldn't. I trust you." "Do what makes you comfortable. I'll love it either way." "That's right. I know you really want to drive it." "Eddie, everything's gonna be fine. Don't worry."
"I know," he sighs. "I just don't wanna mess this up for you. I know you've been looking forward to it."
You giggle a bit. "As long as I get to spend time with you, Eds, tonight will be great."
"Such a charmer," he teases.
"It's my natural talent."
You set the device down, taking your spot across from Chrissy once more. She's smiling at you, albeit nervously.
"Are you sure I look okay?"
You smile, pinching her chin before reclaiming the small brush and finishing off the short, sleek wing of her eyeliner, all while holding your breath so you don't accidentally screw up. You draw a tiny heart just above the apple of her cheek.
"You are," you set the eyeliner down, "absolutely beautiful. You always are."
"Are you sure?" she says, a telling hand creeping to her belly.
You take her face in your hands, careful not to screw up her freshly done makeup. "Chrissy," you whisper, "you're perfect. Always, all the time, no matter what. I will never lie to you, and I'll never sugarcoat it. You're amazing, and I love you."
She takes a slow breath in and nods, smiling prettily. "Love you, too." You kiss her forehead.
"Now do my eyes," you smile, handing her a makeup brush. She giggles as she takes it.
And later on, as the night gets closer and the sun is beginning its descent, you and Chrissy are walking down the steps, holding each other's hands.
All the parents are gathered downstairs, smiling as your mothers cling to your fathers' sides. Your father smiles as you come down. "You both look like royalty," he declares, holding his arms open for you. Your mother moves to give you the space.
"Thank you, Daddy," you hum.
He pulls you back to see your face. "Anything for you, princess." He kisses your forehead.
Chrissy's sharing her own hug with her father. "I trust they were the dresses you wanted," he says.
She nods. "They were. Thank you, Daddy."
"Whatever you want, angel." He kisses her cheek.
Your father pats him on the back as they both wander into the kitchen, your mother follows behind them.
You try not to grimace when Laura stays back, looking her daughter up and down with a grimace of her own.
"I still think I should have loosened that dress up a little more." She moves forward, placing her hands on Chrissy's waist and trying to adjust the fabric.
Chrissy tries to smile through her discomfort. She puts a hand over her stomach and you retire your hard side-eye to come to her side. You weave your arm around her as you give her a reassuring grin.
"Well, I think you look beautiful." You nudge her chin, she smiles. "I envy you."
"I don't know," she tsks. "She's a little too big for her dress. Especially around the hips..."
You smile, turning to the side as you mumble under your breath. "Funny how you barely fit in that large sized dress."
Her brows shot up. "What was that?"
"Hm?" you ask, turning back to her. "Nothing. I was just saying you didn't need to stress."
She huffs, "You said something about a large."
Chrissy's head dips, attempting to cover a grin as you loop your arm through her elbow. "I was just...admiring your large heel."
There's silence as she stares at the both of you. Chrissy tries not to laugh at your dangerous idiocy whilst also struggling with not shrinking under her mother's terrible gaze. You have no issue in staring her right back down, your head tilting and your cordial smile held strong on your lips.
"You mean...'high' heel?" she corrects.
The tension in the air is thick. Chrissy finds it difficult to stand still as she shifts from foot to foot, staring down at the floor or the wall or her bracelet. Anything to avoid looking her mother in the eye—or you, for that matter, in fear that she would burst with laughter and build herself her own grave.
You hum and nod. "Of course. High horse—heel. My apologies."
Her hand raises to her chest, seemingly shocked by the blatant 'disrespect'. "You are being very disrespectful, young lady."
You were trying to be subtle but something about Chrissy's mother rips all the subtlety from you as you furrow your brows but continue to smile. "Oh, I wasn't aware decency was considered disrespectful."
Chrissy nudges your side gently, whispering your name in an urgent reprimanding. "What? What did I say?" you wonder.
Laura isn't having it. "Why, I should go tell your mother about your unpleasant behavior."
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You try to look regretful, but you're sure you're missing the mark by a few hairs. "Oh, forgive me, Ms. Cunningham."
She huffs. "Missus, young lady."
"Right," you nod. "Mrs. Cunningham. I apologize." You tighten your grip on Chrissy's arm just a slight, making it harder for her to keep it together. She loves you, and she thinks you're hilarious. "It's unbecoming of a lady—such as myself—to behave in such a way."
"Yes, it is," she agrees. "One would think a girl like you would behave more appropriately."
You nod firmly. "Of course. I should respect my elders—I apologize, my superiors."
You could gag at the idea of it.
But she can't stand your "disrespect" any more as she huffs and shakes her head, making a various amount of scoffing noises as she begins walking away. "The nerve of children these days."
She leaves the both of you alone. Once you're sure she's out of earshot, Chrissy bends over laughing, covering her mouth and shaking her head to keep quiet.
"You're gonna get in trouble," she whisper-yells. Instead of shoving you away, she tightens her grip to pull you closer. Your foreheads practically touch as the two of you form a conspiring huddle.
You scoff. "I'm Daddy's angel. Doesn't matter what she tells my mom—who will tell my dad—Daddy's angel knows no wrong." It's a truth you repeat often, but it's one of those truths that have always been indisputable.
"Daddy's princess," she corrects you. "I'm the angel."
You shrug, humming. "You're technically the queen."
It's funny. You probably have a higher social standing than Chrissy does, but she was always the Queen of Hawkins while you were simply the princess—not that you minded, you would always support her.
Neither of you are quite sure why that is, but you think it may be because she became a cheerleader before you and then started dating Jason Carver. It doesn't matter. As long as you have her by your side, you would accept being the jester in this high school court of a kingdom.
Chrissy smiles, another giggle rattling her body. "So strange how you don't listen to me then."
You gasp dramatically. "I do! Otherwise I'd be out of the business, Your Highness. We both know I'm a little too dramatic to process common sense sometimes." She rolls her eyes playfully at you. "Exhibit A, Eddie."
She snorts. "Yeah, you were a little confused a couple times there.*
You gasp again, pretending to elbow her in the side. "You're mean!" She giggles again as you call out. "Daddy! Time for pictures."
"Coming, princess," he calls from the kitchen.
Chrissy whispers to you, "You're crazy."
You wink. "Crazy for you."
She rolls her eyes.
All the parents return with a camera. There are a multitude of flashes as they get every possible picture they could need—you and Chrissy, you and your parents, you and your dad, Chrissy and her parents, Chrissy and her dad, Chrissy and her mom (because her mother is insistent). More pictures will be taken when the boyfriends show up.
Jason is the first of the two to show up. As you predicted, there are more pictures. And as soon as those pictures are done, he and Chrissy leave, but not without a pink kiss to your cheek.
Then Eddie shows—without blaring his music through his speakers tonight. He isn't late, in fact he's perfectly on time.
As he walks up the steps to the house, he behaves like a gentleman the whole way. He rings the doorbell, you answer it before your father can, and you give Eddie your best smile.
He looks so handsome. He's in a black tux with a red dress shirt. His black bowtie is perfect, and you're sure it's because he didn't stop until it was. You would have thought he would keep his hair down, but he wants to impress you. His hair is shiny with product and so, so curly. He's got it pulled back in a half-up man bun.
And, of course, his rings are still in place. Shiny, freshly polished. Jesus, you loved him.
"Wow," he sighs at the sight of you. His doe eyes are wide, and his plump lips are parted. He looks starstruck.
"Do you hate it?" you worry, looking down at your dress. The theme is royalty in yours and Chrissy's honors. So, as intended, you look like a princess.
He shakes his head. "No."
You try not to mess with your hair by running your hands through it. "Is it too much?"
Eddie grabs your hand, smiling as he squeezes it gently. "You look fuckin' beautiful."
Your eyes seem to shine, and Eddie thinks you're trying to kill him. "Really?" you smile.
"You look like a princess," he promises, looking at you too closely. You're so, so pretty.
Something hits him, not literally. "Oo!" he exclaims, taking a step back. He turns on his heel with no explanation and rushes back to his van. You watch him, thinking that he's a total dork and that you wanna kiss him silly. There's something about being dressed up like this and being his not-date to prom that makes your feelings for him just that much more potent.
Usually you can get through the first five minutes without imagining your faces squished together in a too-affectionate kiss, but you can't help right now but to be riddled with the fantasy.
He comes back with something uselessly hidden behind his back. "I have this. Close your eyes."
You do as you're told because you trust him, and you would hold a ticking bomb in your palms if he asked you to. You feel him place something on your head—a tiara, you presume.
"Shit," he huffs breathlessly.
You peak your eyes open, raising your hands to feel the tiara with happy fingers. You want to burst. You're so much of a princess to him that he needed to give you a tiara. You're proper royalty now.
"Too much?" you ask.
"Never," he's quick to say. He smiles. "You're perfect."
You don't know what compelled you to say it. "Shit, you might as well kiss me now."
"Huh?" he wonders, as though he wasn't paying attention. You don't think he was.
He was. He definitely was.
"Nothing," you say anyway, covering your words with a grin as you take his hand and pull him inside. "Come on, my mom wants a picture."
He raises a brow, pointing to himself like a dummy. "With me?"
"'Course." You thread your hand through his elbow, and he gladly allows it.
"Seriously?" he asks.
"Yeah," you giggle. "We'll give some to Wayne, too. I'm sure he'd like a picture."
"Yeah," he mutters, fully agreeing but also slightly confused. You like him confused, he's sweet either way.
~
Eddie is a gentleman. As soon as you get to the party, he rushes out of the car just to open your door for you—as he always does. He takes your hand in the crook of his elbow and leads you inside. You smile the whole way, and he tells you that you're pretty when you smile. Your face hurts from smiling so much.
When you're inside, the music is already pounding in the floors and a lot of people are dancing. There are also, however, plenty of people sitting at the sidelines, watching others enjoy their time. People with no dates, people with dates ignoring them, people in friend groups. You notice Tommy H's freckled face hasn't shown up yet. A sly smirk threatens to overtake your warm smile.
You and Eddie spend the first hour dealing with everyone coming up to compliment you. You both expected this. The party's just started, you're running for queen, and...you look beautiful. Eddie does his best to swat away any of the vultures. When you spy Chrissy, you stick next to her and brave the vultures together.
Until Jason pulls her away for punch. She kisses your cheek as she goes, allowing her boyfriend to drag her away again. You don't mind, it gives you time with Eddie and his excited affection.
"Sup, Harrington," he calls when he spots Steve and—the girl you've come to know as—Robin Buckley. "I thought they didn't let old men in here."
Steve rolls his eyes as his palm smacks Eddie's. "You're older than me, Munson."
Eddie shrugs that heavy shouldered shrug and snorts. "By, like, a year."
Steve shakes his head and turns away from him, setting his eyes upon you. With a warm smile, he greets you. "You look great, Y/N."
"Like, drop dead gorgeous. You are stunning," Robin spews, taking in your outfit with plenty of appreciation for your style. A tiny squeal escapes her as she does.
"Thank you," you answer genuinely. You've grown to really like Robin in a short span of time. She's so sweet and geeky, and you love getting to hang out with her and Chrissy on the days where you've kicked the boys out. "You look beautiful, Bobby."
She seems to blush, looking down at her dress and nodding. It's probably too dressy for her, but your compliment makes her feel better. "Yeah, thanks."
She nudges Steve in the side hard enough for him to bring a hand to it and mutter a weak, "Ow."
"Steve wishes he had a date. He couldn't score one," she teases.
The three of you laugh as he rolls his eyes at the abuse. He'd hoped you would at least be nice to him, but it seems you've followed in Eddie's cruel footsteps. "Har, har. Laugh it up."
Robin takes his arm then, her giggles melting into her words as she smiles wide. "Anyway, we should go check out the punch. I heard someone spiked it and now we've got booze!"
Robin starts walking away with Steve, but when he pauses, she doesn't stop to wait for him. Steve sidles up to Eddie, leaning down to whisper in his ear and keep away from your prying ones. "It's now or never, dude. Don't keep making us listen to your gross pining."
Eddie grumbles, masking his anxiety with annoyance as he rolls his eyes. "I don't pine."
Steve scoffs. "Yeah, right."
Eddie pushes him away, to which Steve raises his hands in mock defense as he goes to catch up with Robin. He waves at you on his way. As if on cue, the music changes to something slow and steady, something romantic, and Eddie thinks the world is mocking him. When Eddie turns back to you, you're smiling at a couple who'd come up to say hi. He waits patiently for them to leave before he holds his kind of shaky hand out to you.
"D'you wanna dance?" he asks after clearing his throat a couple times.
You smile that drop-dead smile at him and he finds it a little harder to breathe. You slip your hand into his palm, and he hopes his isn't sweaty. "Yeah," you mumble fondly, standing close as you let him guide you to a spot within the dancing couples. Your heart beats so fast, drowning on his nervous fondness.
He holds you with timid hands, one in your hand and one on your side. You're just familiar enough that his touch does not feel as awkward as you feel. You try not to melt against him, to lay your head upon his chest and close your eyes, to let him sway you with the gentleness he feels swelling in his chest and tingling in his fingers.
He stares at your face, and it feels natural for him to do so. Your hand on his shoulder slides further to wrap around the back of his neck. He smiles at the soft glow in your eyes, the little sparkle of life that erupts every time you look at him.
"You're really pretty," he whispers as his eyes look over all the glorious features of your face: your soft lips, your kind eyes, your plush cheeks, your adorable nose, your fluttering lashes he wants to feel lay little butterfly kisses on his face.
You look down from his eyes momentarily, hoping the warmth in your cheeks and the shortness of your breath isn't too evident. "This dress was really expensive, so I'm glad you think so–"
He doesn't mean to cut you off, but he does. "I'm not talking about the dress." He can't help it when his hand strays from your hand to hold the side of your face, his thumb brushing the gentlest touch against the apple of your cheek. "You're pretty without the dress."
You stare at him with the biggest, shiniest eyes. He loves when you look at him like this.
Then he realizes maybe he weirded you out.
"N-Not, like, naked! I just meant, y'know, even without the fancy dress, just in regular clothes, too. You're just..." he clears his throat pathetically, "you're really pretty."
You tip your head back to laugh sweetly, the one with the squeaks—the one he really likes because of its sincerity. His hand wraps farther around your waist. You respond—seemingly unconsciously—by setting your other arm on his shoulder. He secures both hands at your waist.
"I know what you meant, Eddie," you giggle, giving him one last squeak just to please him—though he knows you didn't do it on purpose.
He nods, letting his own giddy laugh escape him. "Cool."
A chuckle, one of the ones that goes through your nose as you stifle a grin. You move slowly, like you're trying not to startle an animal, as you set your head on his chest. You step just a slight closer, and he graciously lets his hands wrap tighter around you. His head rests against the top of your heart.
It's close and warm and it makes you both smile. He smells nice, familiar, like the cologne you bought him, deodorant, and cigarettes. Under the music and the sound of his clothes brushing your ear, you can hear the faintest beat of his heart. It's quick, heavy. You can feel it against your cheek if you really focus.
You chuckle so lightly. "Eddie, calm down. Your heart is, like, super fast."
He clears his throat, speaking through his fond haze. "My bad."
He's so nervous. Steve's words play over and over again in his mind. "It's now or never, it's now or never, it's now or never, it's now–" and he is so afraid to pick now that all he does is sway and breathe the scent of your soft perfume, and under that, your—supposedly—scentless lotion.
He's so afraid that he's missed his chance. He knows you love him, but he's stuck on the possibility that you don't love him like you did. Maybe now, after having waited so long, you love him like a best friend, you love him like a brother. Maybe now that he's finally fallen for you, you don't have the capacity to stay low with him.
He's so afraid.
You both sway to the music, moving so slowly. There's a pause, it feels like. You feel like something is supposed to be said or done but...no one is doing it. The music changes again, but neither of you have stopped your slow dance. You rue the moment you have to tear away from him.
But there was a pause.
"Do you want to stop?" you ask gently, hoping against hope that he says no.
And he answers your prayer better than you could have asked for. It's a quick, "absolutely not," that leaves no time for any conceived hesitation.
You're so relieved. "Okay..."
His response is just as immediate. "I like you."
You look up at him, smiling gently. The sight of him warms your heart, all the softness in his big features, all the gleaming in his dark eyes. "I like you, too."
"No, like..." he sighs, struggling to say what he wants to say as his hands find firmer purchase at your waist out of nerves. "I really like you."
You're confused as to how to respond. Smiling strangely and furrowing a brow, you chuckle, "Thank you?"
Not quite. "I mean–"
"Eddie," you pause, donning a playful voice. "You're being weird again."
He wants to laugh but his ears are burning. "What I mean to say is..." now or never, "I fuckin' love you."
Your heart leaps to your throat, and you almost choke on it. It's beating so fast, you feel it in every pulse in your body. "Like..." you think quickly, though your thoughts are jumbled. "Like a friend? Like Steve and Robin."
"Not at all."
You shake your head, thinking his not platonic love for you is too good to be true. "I'm confused."
He's already said it, there's no use in being shy. He chuckles, and then takes a deep breath, and then blows it out. You stare up at him, eyes gleaming and lips parted so delicately. He wants to kiss you.
"I'm..." Breathe. "I'm in love with you, Princess." And then your heart stops. You're surprised you haven't fallen in the middle of the dance floor. He holds you up with all the fondness in his heart. "I was trying not to fall for you, I wasn't going to–" he says it with the same resolve as picking up candy at the gas station, like loving you is such an easy thing to do, "–but then we started hanging out, and you ended up being really, really cool. Then, I sort of just..." He sighs, trying to find the words. "I started really liking you. Then I picked you up for that concert, and you were so gorgeous—you always are. And I picked you up tonight and saw you in this...fuckin' awesome dress, and I couldn't breathe because you're just... You're so beautiful, and–"
You shut him up with a kiss. You sit here and listen to his compliments forever, but you couldn't wait any longer to feel his lips on yours. You've wanted this for so long, craved this kind of intimacy with him since you first saw him and thought he was super weird. And he was, you were right. You often are.
His lips are soft and warm, and you love the feeling of kissing him. It sways in your chest and warms the pit of your stomach, and it tingles in your fingers and ears and you just...lean into it like it's such a natural thing. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, tangling in his hair to pull him closer. His hands tighten around your waist and pull you flush against him. Happy hands hold the other, an innocent desperation to be near.
Fuck, you love him and his stupid anxiety. You love him in all his strangeness, his eccentricities, his eager hands and giddy eyes. Kissing him is one of the best decisions you've made, and it's one you hope you can continue to make forever and ever and ever.
When your lips pull apart and you're breathing each other's air, you keep your eyes closed as your lashes flutter. "I love you, too," you whisper, pulling him even closer. Your affection for him had only grown over the last few months, from a swelling warmth to a bursting excitement that grows still with every Eddie-ism.
"Sorry it took so long," he replies, your lips brushing with his words as his hand raises to brush your cheek.
You shrug lazily. "I'm glad it happened at all," you're still so close. You forget the music is still playing, you forget people are dancing to something fast and loud, you forget people are probably staring and talking and laughing and dancing and carrying on while you and Eddie are stuck in your own world, confessing and kissing and loving.
You chuckle, resting your head on his chest for a moment before lifting up again. "Chrissy'll be ecstatic."
He laughs, his hand splayed along your lower back as he rubs the spot affectionately. "Yeah, well... They certainly are."
You look over to where he motions with his head, giggling when you see Steve and Robin beaming and throwing thumbs up at the two of you, as though they were being subtle in their celebration. If you look over just a bit, you can see Chrissy smiling like it was her being kissed and loved on so sweetly. She pulls Jason with her as she joins the other two in your success—which is, in turn, their success.
You snort. "You have weird friends."
"Correction: we have weird friends."
What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine. You're okay with that.
You get giddy all over again looking at his face. "I'm so fuckin' happy right now." You lift up on your toes and kiss him again, drinking in his loving affection. When you pull away, you smile wide.
"Do you wanna go to the movies with me?" he asks, bringing an eager hand up to cup your chin.
You smile, containing your laugh. "You won't stand me up?"
He laughs, a big one that rumbles in his entire body and spreads to your own. "No, I won't stand you up," he says. "I'll open your door like a gentleman, I'll buy your snacks, I'll drive you back home and give you a goodnight kiss."
Your voice is soft, though the music shouldn't permit it to be. "Can we go back to your place?"
"Mine?" he wonders. Yours is probably better, he thinks.
"Yours is better." It's like you've read his mind, and you need to prove him wrong with his own phrasing.
He shrugs, "It's small."
You respond with your own shrug, holding him a little longer. Your thumb rubs against the back of his neck. "It feels like a home."
He hums. "Not very gentlemanly, taking you back to my place."
You snort. "Not like my parents'll notice." The way you say it makes his heart hurt. They wouldn't realize I was gone. "Your house is lived in," you say with a new gentleness. "I want to be with you." And then you get shy, shrugging one shoulder and slanting your chin down to meet it. "And maybe I just want to make out with my boyfriend."
Eddie blushes all over at the word, like he's a school boy flirting with his playground crush. "Right?" you ask quickly. "I can call you that?"
"Please do."
You purse your lips and giggle at his eagerness. You can't help it, you kiss him again. You love the way he kisses, full of smiles and warmth and a hint of desperation.
You pull back, your hand on his chest. "Does this mean you'll let me buy you gifts again?"
He rolls his eyes and laughs lightly, shaking his head before conceding with a grin. "Within reason." He couldn't say no to you, especially not now.
Your hands sit fondly at either side of his face. Your thumbs brush his skin. "I can deal with that."
And this time, he kisses you.
Tumblr media
Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom
Tumblr media
105 notes · View notes
trashmouth-richie · 12 hours
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
eddie x reader ; a very light hint of steve x reader
a follow up to this which is a follow up of this
tw 18+ content, tied up, temperature play, steve is baby girl himbo in this very s3 coded, eddie is jealous + mean.
“that tickles, wow, cold— ow, very very cold— shit, shit!”
You slap a hand over his mouth, wide eyes staring into yours as if he is scared beyond belief.
“Shhhhh..” you press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. 
Your body was pressed in his, an ice cube held limply in your fingers as you traced it along his veiny shaft. Leaving goosebumps on his summer tanned skin. 
“Eddie is home, do you want him to know that we’re fooling around? Cause I prefer to keep my bedroom adventures private.”
“No, no! You’re right, it’s just— really cold, when you said you wanted to get freaky I thought maybe you had a friend or something to go up my ass? I don’t know!” 
You stare at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding but it never came. You sit up, the ice melting on your fingers dripping onto his sack, little whimpers from his mouth. 
“Alright… King Steve is curious about assplay, noted. We can unpack that another time— for now, it’s either the ice or nothing, you choose.” 
You kiss his chest, waiting for him to decide. He’s mumbling to himself, and you work your fingers in between the tufts of hair, eyes on him, your nipples skimming over his hot skin. 
“…okay! Okay fine! Can I kiss you maybe?” 
Steve was stretched like a voodoo doll across your bed, large hands tied to each bed post, unable to reach you, his lip in a pout as he attempted to wiggle his wrists free. 
“Keep trying to get out of your restraints and you won’t be kissing me anywhere.”
He huffed, a strand of caramel hair tousling into his forehead, “I mean they’re tight— like really tight, you sure this is normal?”
You rolled your eyes and sat up again to examine the human ken doll that was played by Steve Harrington for the evening. 
His wrists were red, fingers pale… fuck. 
You tug at the knots, trying to wedge your fingers beneath them, and after five minutes of you trying you could see Steve’s hands looking worse.
“Alright— don’t panic!” you announced, sliding from the bed and pushing your arms through the red silk robe hanging from your closet, “and don’t move…. I’ll be…” scissors! “yeah, I’ll be right back!”
“What!? You can’t just leave me like th—!” he hollers your name and you try to muffle his calls of distress by shutting your door quickly.
Eddie was in his room, you could hear him playing his guitar— and he prayed he didn’t hear the muffled pleas from Steve. 
Rifling through the kitchen junk drawer you find everything but the scissors. Chopsticks from too many late night orders of chinese takeout, ketchup packets, pens, a pack of markers, Eddie’s fake ID he had in high school, Wayne’s expired ID he tried to use at the gas station when you were sixteen and more rope. 
The pair of you didn’t own a knife set, never having cooked anything that required culinary skills— you were at a loss— the only option left was to ask Eddie for his pocket knife. Goddamnit.
The walk to his room felt like miles long, and honestly you would have preferred if you never got there. His door was open, the low times of his acoustic guitar filled the air along with a haze of smoke. 
A quick rap on his door and Eddie was looking up at you, cigarette limp from his lips, as he motions to the other side of his room with a nod of his head. 
“…ham & pineapple no pepperonis, cash on the dresser.” 
“What? Oh yeah, sure— forgot it’s Friday. Hey, ummm. I need a favor.” 
Eddie smirks and shakes his head, “I’m not loaning you anymore bud, you already owe you twenty.” 
“No— I’m not here for free weed, I need your knife.” 
His eyebrows quirk and he waits for you to ask his silent “why?”
“It’s an emergency.” 
“Your boss sucks sweetheart, 100%— but you can’t kill him.” 
“Eddie shut up,” you whine, stomping your foot, “I just need to borrow it—I'll give it right back!”
He rolls his eyes, leaning over to grab his knife from his back pocket, “tell me what you need it for.” 
You stare at him, mouth open, “I…can’t.” 
“Okay? and why not?”
Your name is heard in a wail from your room and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. 
“is someone in there?”
Scrubbing your hands down your face you finally admit it, “Yes! Jesus fuck! Now will you please either help me or give me the knife, he’s stuck!”
It takes everything in Eddie to try not to laugh, but he simple hides his lips and nods, thinking to himself what kid. of shit you’d gotten into now, and with who?
He follows you into your room, watching your form move beneath the silk robe, trying to keep his eyes from staring too long or imagining what lie beneath the thin fabric. 
Your eyes are covered when you open the door so you miss the shock on Steve’s face to see his best friend walk into your room. His dick is still out, laying against his hairy thigh, and the only thing he can do is an awkward jock head nod followed by a “sup?”
Thankful that he has a good poker face, Eddie nods back, ears crimson in anger, biting his tongue as he flips the blade out with flare. Behind his dark eyes He was fuming. 
Steve? 
STEVE HARRINGTON?
Of all people you could have tied up in here in some makeshift attempt at whatever you thought you were doing— it had to be him.
Heads would fucking roll when this was over and him and Steve were alone. 
Slicing through the ropes like they were nothing, Eddie simply raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, leaving with his mind grinding like gears on how to stop this from happening again. 
“Thanks for calling Family Video. Our hours are 10-10 Sunday through Saturday, stop in to rent our latest releases, this is St—”
“Harrington.”
“Hey man, hey— thanks for uh, helping me out the other night. I really o—”
“Yeah, you do,” the cord bounces on the floor as Eddie turns the corner, looking back at you in the living room asleep on the couch— walking to his room,  “that’s why whenever she calls… you are going to make up whatever excuse that big hair of yours can..”
“Wait..?”
Eddie grits your name out through clenched teeth. 
“If she calls to hang out, you will find a reason not to, y’ catch my drift, pal?” 
“Ye-yeah, sure thing… what should I say?”
“I don’t care Harrington, make something up… tell her you have a girlfriend, you have the measles, I really don’t give a fuck what it is, as long as I never have to walk into her room and see your dick again.”
Steve narrows his eyes, blurring the neon lights in the video store, “dude, what the hell?” 
“Sarah is single— I’ll give you her numb—”
“Okay? But so is she, why are you acting like an asshole right now?”
You. He was being a dick because of you. Sick and tired of you not willing to admit you both had feelings for eachother, and he was ready to pull out the big guns in order to make it happen. 
“Don’t worry about it.” 
taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r
173 notes · View notes
queenimmadolla · 6 hours
Note
Could you write about the first time Penny or any of the babies reach for Eddie 🥺🥺 like the first time they really obviously want him or are excited to see him?
𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐭! :) 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐢 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞! 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞
Tumblr media
Eddie was exhausted.
  Drained. Worn out. Expended. Zonked. Depleted, just plain tired.
  He was young, not even 23 years old, and today in particular, he felt like was in his late 60s. On a normal schedule, he was fine. Could roll with life and work, but his schedule was no longer a normal one. Not since you’d first found out you were pregnant.
  A baby, while precious, was an impending expense. 
  Eddie had started picking up more shifts at the garage, longer ones. Going in early, staying late.
  It was relatively amusing work, he was good at fixing cars up. Had started at the shop just changing oil and now he worked on the actual bodies, though he preferred engines more than anything; a common problem for most who brought their cars in, and an annoyance for his co-workers, so he always had plenty to do.
  The short time you and Eddie were allotted, pending Penny’s arrival, was spent squirreling money away. You’d have to go on maternity leave, and the desk job as a Lawyer’s receptionist you’d picked up after high school still paid you well on that leave, you’d just still be missing out on a portion of your normal salary since you’d only be getting about 60 to 70% of your check. 
  Regardless of the tighter than even normal budget (the two of you were also saving up to move to a bigger place, the trailer Wayne graciously let you play house in was still a one bedroom and eventually, Penny would need her own room or the two of you would have to move out to the livingroom), the first few months after Penny’s birth had been relatively smooth. She didn’t use up a whole lot of formula then, mostly breastfed or bottle fed with your supply unless the family was out and about, and there was no place for you to feed her (even then, you preferred going back to the van to nurse her solo—Eddie would get anxiety over that after an episode of a true crime documentary show) so she’d need formula.
  Now that you were back at work, standard Monday through Fridays, you couldn’t feed her like you used to, and she relied equally on your milk supply and formula so that was a hit to the budget.
  You and Eddie had worried a bit over childcare, whether you’d have to stay home or not to take care of her since daycares were so expensive. Luckily, Wayne’s girlfriend—another occupant of Forest Hills—had taken a liking to Penny. Her son had recently left the nest, gone off to college, and she craved the presence of a child, someone to need her. Uncle Wayne hadn’t been enough (nor had he been amused when Eddie jested as much), and she got on well with Penny, so she’d offered to watch her while the two of you worked like the absolute angel she was. 
  The Saint refused to take any payment and even thanked the two of you for trusting her with Penny, baffling Eddie since that meant Maude would have to take care of Penny and Wayne, who worked nights and was with her the rest of the time. Wayne, again, hadn’t appreciated the joke.
  Childcare aside, Penny was growing. And she was growing fast. Eddie had emotional and monetary whiplash with the speed of which she was outgrowing all of her clothes and going through diapers. And things like baby jumpers and playpens and strollers and car seats were expensive. The regular bills hadn’t stopped either, so while you’d gone back to work and the two of you could stay on top of everything together—Eddie didn't want to just be getting by anymore. It was fine when it had been the two of you, now he had a baby. A little human entirely dependent on him. 
  And you. She depended on you too, it’s just—maybe it was a machismo thing, Eddie didn’t fuck around with toxic masculinity, couldn’t give a shit, but he desperately wanted to provide for the two of you. Show you that you hadn’t made a mistake dating him, marrying him, having his Oopsie baby. And he didn’t want Penny growing up to worry about finances like he had.
  So, naturally, he put a shit ton of pressure on himself. He’d continued working as much as he had when you were on maternity leave—and he’d crashed. 
  You were there, though. Had talked to him, comforted him, held him through his breakdown. It was one hell of a conversation, and he’d still been stubborn about it despite the fact that he’d made himself sick from burn out, you got through to him. You were a family. Eddie wasn’t to shoulder any responsibility on his own. It was to be shared between the two of you. Your family would be just fine without Eddie working himself into an early grave. 
  You even did the math on paper (and you were bad at math so it amused him to watch you successfully prove your point after he’d had to help you with some fractions and decimals) to reassure him. 
  With his worries put to ease, you’d convinced him to take the day off. It wasn’t technically even a day off, he’d just been going in on his days off for overtime, so he was just staying home. He still could have taken Penny over to Maude’s—Eddie didn’t want to. No point when he could have his little ball of curls and rolls (which were starting to go away as she stretched out, breaking his heart) alllllllll to himself, even if she was being fussy. 
  Maybe Penny was picking up on the vibes he’d been putting out, absorbing his stress because she hadn’t gone down to bed last night without a fight. She’d woken up this morning upset, had been irritated the rest of it, and had given Eddie just as hard of a time putting her down for her afternoon nap, as she had last night.
  Yeah. Eddie was fucking wiped out. It was still better than being at work, he certainly got to relax more, even with his furious baby screaming, so he’d never complain.
  Then, Penny started screeching from her crib and Eddie let out a groan, hands dragging down his face. Sue him, he could complain a little.
  Oh, c’mon! She hadn’t even been asleep for half an hour! 
  And there was no building up to the screeching, it was like she popped those big eyes open and just decided to start wailing. 
  With a sigh, Eddie got up from the couch and rushed to the kitchen to prepare a bottle for her. She’d fought it before her nap when he offered it to her, so she had to be hungry now. With the bottle in hand, the perfect Penny-approved temperature (she was picky), he burst into his bedroom, and her sobbing intensified, mouth wide and face almost turning a different color even as he approached her.
  Her curls were curlier than normal and almost as wet as her face—she was a sleep sweater so they often matted down to her head when she snoozed. Eddie just knew she was gonna hate the sink bath he’d have to give her later if she was still in this mood by then. 
  Penny was sitting up—had recently learned to do that on her own—a constant stream of tears dribbling down both cheeks and she stared up at him, her little eyebrows furrowed in anguish. 
  “Alright, alright. I’ve got what you want, no need to hurt anyone, bitty one.” Eddie leaned down, offering the bottle to quelle her distress. She’d recently learned to hold her own bottles, too.
  Penny’s crying died down for just a few seconds, before her breathing picked back up, breaths stuttering and she let out another shriek as fat tears continued to leak out of her eyes at an even faster rate. She smacked the bottle right out of Eddie’s hand, he hadn’t been expecting it so his grip had been loose and craned her head even farther back to stare up at him, pleading, and Eddie had no idea what for.
  Was she still tired?
  Did she need to be changed? She certainly didn’t smell like it but maybe she had peed. 
  Eddie reached down into the crib to grab the bottle and her wails died down again before picking up the moment he’d pulled back and walked to his dresser to place it pn. 
  “You’re gonna have to help me out here, baby, what do you want? Huh? What does my girl need?”
  Eddie was about to get her out of the crib when Penny did something she hadn’t done before. In between her sobs, with her big, beautiful eyes squinting through her tears, her little arms reached up towards him. The movement made her unstable and she wobbled on her bottom, arms still up, before she fell over onto her side and wailed harder. 
  Penny didn’t stay down for even a couple of seconds, pushing herself back up into sitting position and reaching up for Eddie again as she bawled and Eddie snapped out of his shock (every milestone she accomplished sent him into one) and reached down, hands grasping her soft sides and hoisting her up his chest. 
  Penny immediately smothered her face against his neck, Eddie could feel the wetness from her tears and drool smearing around the skin there and he rocked her gently, one hand supporting her bottom, and the other cradling her sweaty little head.
  She still cried but as he gently shushed her, Penny’s wailing lowered in volume, “Shhhh, it’s okay, baby. You just wanted daddy, huh? Just need some cuddles to make you feel better?” He pressed kiss after kiss to her head and, much to his relief, the wailing died down completely. Penny’s breathing was evening out, still a little rapid and hitching, but she was calming down.
  “Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.” Eddie walked away from the crib, back to the living room, picking up her bottle and her diaper bag on the way, “Daddy’s sorry he’s an idiot and didn’t realize you just wanted him. My little bitty pretty one was crying her eyes out and I have the audacity to try to feed you instead of cuddle you. Ugh. Feel free to bite me when you have teeth, sweet pea.” 
  By the time he was settling on the couch again, he was sure Penny was on the road to recovery, which made this next part worse. He winced as he slowly pulled her away from him. Penny immediately began to protest, breathing picking up as she started grunting while her arms reached for him and the moment Eddie placed her flat on the changing mat, she started wailing again, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open wide to let the world know her daddy had hurt her feelings, again, “I know, I know, daddy’s also so sorry he has to change your diaper so you don’t get a rash on your little toosh.”
  Eddie was quick with it, just as distressed as she was with their lack of contact. Once she had a clean diaper, her extra onesie (and he’d have to remember to put a new one from the dresser into the diaper bag) on, and the soiled diaper was wrapped up and set aside, he hastily picked her up, clutching her to his chest and she curled eagerly into him.
  He held her like that until she calmed again, then he got up to toss the dirty diaper and warm up her bottle again.
  With her—apparently—number one and urgent need satisfied, Eddie spread himself out on the couch with Penny in the crook of his arm, her chunky cheek pressed against his chest. This time when he offered her the bottle, she eagerly pulled it towards her and guzzled it down. 
  Eddie admired her while she drank her milk, his finger stroking over her cheeks to rid them of her tears as she stared up at him through long, wet eyelashes. Had he not been present for her fits, nor had he just wiped away the evidence of her suffering, Eddie wouldn’t have known she was upset at all. There was no resentment clouding those warm, brown eyes. No anger and Eddie’s chest tightened as he recalled just how forgiving babies were. So, innocent and just full of love.
  “You happy now, pretty one?” Eddie cooed, and at his tone, Penny smiled around the rubber nipple in her mouth, letting out her own coo in response. She didn’t stop suckling, but she removed one hand from her bottle to shakily reach up towards Eddie. Her movement was a little unstable, and Eddie watched with pure reverence until her tiny hand was against his jaw, soft palm gently smacking it.
  Then, not so gently smacking it.
  “Owwwuhh!” Eddie whined.
131 notes · View notes
neonghostlights · 11 hours
Text
You Found Me
Part one
It was raining when Eddie went outside for his morning smoke.
It was the few blissful moments he would have before getting Darcy up for preschool.
He loved the days he had his daughter but they wore him out.
Splitting custody with Connie was surprisingly easier than he thought. Coparenting was a breeze compared to their marriage.
He remembered in the final days before they separated he would dread getting up in the morning, dread the arguing and anger.
But now he was happy again.
It was getting close to the time he needed to get Darcy up and he took a few last drags of his cigarette, making a mental checklist of the things he needed to do today to make it run smoothly before he met Connie to drop Darcy off.
Despite the relief of the truce between him and Connie, he felt guilty for Darcy having to split everything between his home and her moms.
He needed to get moving. He had a full schedule at the tattoo shop downtown today but was sure the rain was gonna be a reason for some no shows.
He took a final drag of the cigarette before tossing it down on the cement below him and crushing it with the sole of his boot when a car followed by a moving truck rambled down the street, catching his attention.
He had heard that the house across the street was sold and he hoped that maybe they had a kid around Darcy’s age for her to play with.
He leaned against his porch rail, trying not to be too much of a nosey neighbor as he watched the car door swing open.
Eddie never would have guessed what would happen next, who would show up in his life for the first time in ten years.
Time slowed, his heart dropped to his stomach, and he wondered if he was seeing things correctly when you stepped out of the car and started walking towards the house with a set of keys in your hand.
115 notes · View notes
cacoetheswriting · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media
celebrity skin. (part eight)
pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 5.2k summary: a reconciliation in New York leads to a rediscovery of not-so-hidden feelings and answers to previously avoided questions — plus more.
content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, post-breakup emotional hurt / comfort, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail, & kinda rough smut (unprotected p in v sex) — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!
& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.
celebrity skin. masterlist
Tumblr media
One thing Eddie had been absolutely sure of: Stevie Nicks was right.
The trip to New York City was carried out solely on a whim. A gut feeling that the brunette rockstar could not quite shake. He had to see you, despite the possible consequences, and Eddie was smart enough to know there would be a lot. He acted like an ass and whether you would admit it or not, he knew he broke your heart.
Ever since his rise to fame, the Corroded Coffin frontman felt this bubble around him. A bubble created by his team, his band, his past, and his own disruptive behaviour — don’t do drugs was a warning he witnessed (and ignored) many times on posters too colourful for the subject matter, plastered on the walls of Hawkins High. Seemingly, the bubble protected Eddie from predators. Leeches that wanted to take advantage of his fame. Unfortunately, the bubble also shielded him from love.
Love. 
If the rockstar wasn’t so afraid of the feeling as a result of that bubble, perhaps he would have made different choices in all of his past relationships. Most importantly, perhaps Eddie would have made different choices in the one relationship that’s meant more to him than any other. If he wasn’t so afraid of love, and being in love, perhaps he would’ve fought to be with you a little harder.
And love is definitely how Eddie would describe what he felt towards you. Correction. Feels towards you to this very day. Maybe more, if that was possible considering he hasn’t seen you in months. 
So yes, Stevie Nicks was right. The concept of Silver Springs was right.
Seeing you again only affirmed that belief. Talking to you again, witnessing your smile for the first time in months… Well, Eddie never wanted to be apart from you for longer than he already had been. Unfortunately, that wasn’t up to him. Not for as long as your grandmother had her claw all up in your business and stuck her nose where it did not belong.
“So, what happens now?” The rockstar asks, only slightly afraid of the answer.
You hum under your breath, taking a moment to think, gathering your own thoughts. The sun is slowly rising in the distance, so the first response that comes to mind is that you should go home, and Eddie should go back to his hotel, Max’s place, or wherever the hell he’s been staying, before this place starts crawling with people. That would mean saying goodbye for lord knows how long and you were just starting to get comfortable with being around the rockstar again, although, not like that was insanely hard. Whatever. Simply, you didn’t want to say goodbye.
“We could go get breakfast,” you finally say.
Eddie smirks. “As much as like that idea, sweetheart, I didn’t really mean now in the full sense of the word.”
You laugh softly.
“Okay, hotshot.” Turning your head back to look at Eddie, you raise a brow. “What do you think should happen?”
The rockstar smacks his lips together before resting his elbow on one of his knees and bringing his thumb to his mouth. A nervous tick.
“Putting whatever reason I came here for aside, starting over seems like a bad idea since we’ve done that once before and it didn’t really end the way either of us hoped,” he says after a beat of silence, avoiding your gaze.
“Yeah,” you exhale, “Bad idea. Plus you said so yourself, you’re not the relationship type. Getting back together would be redundant.”
“Right,” Eddie agrees quietly, although he really doesn’t want to.
There’s another moment of silence. Nothing but the sound of morning birds chirping melodically and wind gust hitting the water ahead. In the quiet, there is solace. In the quiet, Eddie doesn't have to answer difficult questions or have conversations neither of you really wants to have. A blissful ignorance of what’s really happening here.
He still loves you. You most likely still love him.
It’s all just terrible timing for two people who are — in his mind, at least — made for eachother, but for one reason or the other, can’t be together. Not in this lifetime. Not with people controlling what they can or cannot do. Not with the whole world watching their every move. It hurt. Hurt that a life you both chose was also the life that’s actively destroying something good.
“We could try being friends?” Eddie offers eventually, looking at you then.
You smile. “Friends. I think I like that.”
-
Holly is the only person you’re fully comfortable talking to about all of this. She listens, actively nodding along as you spew your thoughts and feelings out loud, until the rambles become too hard to follow. Holly, ever the best friend that she’s always been, places her perfectly manicured hands on your shoulders and gives your body one shake to get you back on track when the story becomes a little too convoluted. And this one is all over the place.
There’s the run in at Saks, the meeting with Max, the plan, the date with Steve, all that leads to Eddie Munson banging on your front door until you let him inside. There’s the emotionally heightened conversation that doesn’t really amount to much. The dinner with your family that opened things up to questions from your nosh sisters and scrutiny from your Nana. Then there was Coney Island.
You pause.
It’s messy, for sure, and your feelings are all over the place as you recount each and every minor detail, which leads you to why you invited her over in the first place: what the fuck do you do about Eddie Munson?
Holly usually gives you advice. Parts of which you want to hear and take on board, parts of which you both know will be ignored. This time however, as you do your best to explain what’s been on your mind — and heart — since the rockstar arrived in New York, this time Holly doesn’t know what to say.
“I don’t know if I should forgive him.”
“Jeff says he’s been, like, super sullen all summer long. Locked in that house of his, or at the studio, working on shit he won’t let the band see.”
“That’s supposed to make it easier for me to do what, exactly? He’s secretive, that’s for sure. Hiding stuff from his band, from his sister, from me…”
You reach for the packet of smokes that Holly brought with her and light one, hand shaking ever so slightly.
“I got virtually nothing from him that night in my apartment. Slightly more under the Wonder Wheel, but still not enough to understand why he did what he did,” you exhale a puff of smoke, “Yet I can’t help but think that despite everything, especially ignoring the weeks I spent in bed because of him, we’re like meant for each other, you know?” 
Holly too lights a cigarette. She also doesn’t answer you.
“That’s kinda pathetic, no?”
“I think until you get the entire truth, it won’t matter whether you get back with him or just be his friend, or whatever, ‘cause you’re not going to be fully happy. Not really,” she explains, avoiding your question because there’s close to nothing worse than admitting to your friend that they’ve lost it completely.
“So I should confront him?”
“Jeff says Eddie doesn’t do well with confrontations.”
You groan. Head falling back on the cushioned sofa.
“Maybe I should just fuck him,” you think out loud, “Get all this frustration out and then just move on with my life.”
Holly laughs. “Just don’t let him finish,” she says, “Karma’s a bitch, and whatnot.”
-
New York City is your favourite place on Earth.
Despite your years of extensive travel to tour your various albums or attend different global award shows, New York, your home, has always been top of the list. Elegant, albeit slightly messy. Organised, although a little rowdy. It’s colourful, but dull. Full of people from every corner of the world, which only added to its pre-existing charm. You didn’t really think it was possible to fall in love with it even more until you’ve started to explore it all over again with none other than Eddie Munson — under a new guise of something called friendship.
The rockstar decided to extend his trip. Currently, there is no return date. Exploring New York became the only thing on his agenda. 
The two of you did your best to stay under the radar, away from prying eyes. Although, not like it was necessarily needed as Eddie’s idea of sight seeing involved bar hopping. Old-ish, rather shitty places that have definitely seen better days, but Eddie, he was like a kid in a candy store. With every beer poured and every bowl of peanuts shared, he lit up more and more.
“They remind me of home,” he finally explains, two days into your NYC adventure. “Of Hawkins.” 
You smile at him, but don’t say anything.
“What?” Eddie asks when he notices the look, mouth now full after taking another handful of the perhaps hundredth packet of peanuts the two of you have shared over the last few days.
“I don’t know,” you shrug, swirling the gold-ish liquid inside your beer bottle, “I guess it’s just nice that some small part of my home reminds you of your home.”
Eddie returns the fond expression. Friends is good, he thinks at that moment while catching another peanut with his mouth, not ideal, but good.
“There was this bar,” he says, leaning across the table so that he could be a little closer to you, “The Hideout. Our first venue, outside of Gareth’s garage, and the only place in my crappy hometown where I didn’t feel like an outsider.”
“Places like the Hideout, places like this.” Eddie swirls his finger in the air to show he means your current location, “They’ll always have a special place in my heart, I guess. They’re a part of me. Part of Corroded Coffin history.”
He stares at you for a minute. He’d never share this much with a friend, so perhaps this new concept you’ve both found yourselves in is not as good as the rockstar would like to think. “We could try being friends?” — Eddie’s second guessing his suggestion just as fast as he came up with it.
“We should see more of your home,” he finally states, “As much as I love them, I think we’ve seen all the dingy bars New York has to offer, so I’m open to suggestions.”
You bring the beer bottle to your lips and take a slow sip of the now semi-warm liquid, pondering his request. 
Where could you take Eddie that would represent your love for New York. The Statue of Liberty seems a little basic, as does Times Square — especially since you’ve both performed there in the past. Rockefeller Centre to see the street performers? The Met, even though both of you will most likely be invited next year to the exhibit. In reality, all of the touristy spots like Central Park, for example, would be a little too crowded for either of you to feel safe and remain unseen. 
Then your eyes glisten with an idea.
What’s more homey than a home itself: Cove City Sound Studios.
To any average person, it was just another recording studio found in New York. One of hundreds. To you however, it was heaven on earth. 
Located in Glen Cove, New York, Cove City Sound Studios had been home to many artists before you came along. A lot of albums were recorded here. A lot of number one hits — the list of which you were lucky to join more than once.
You always thought the ambiance of this place fueled your creativity. Often said the reason behind your resounding success was because you got the opportunity to record here. Of course Holly, Val, and especially your Nana, corrected you every time those words had left your lips. “You’re the reason behind your success,” your Nana would affirm, “Not some recording studio.”.
But you knew. Felt it deep within your bones. Cove City Sound Studios was magic.
“Damn,” Eddie mutters under his breath, fingers gently running across the various buttons as his doe-eyes dart across the posters on the wall — one of which features your 1985 album cover (a record once hidden under Eddie’s bed back in Hawkins). 
“Here I thought the place we recorded Honesty in was impressive,” he admits, “This though, this is another level.”
A smile circles your lips.
“Welcome to my home, Eddie Munson.”
The rockstar dips his head, sort of in a way of a little bow, and smiles so wide it makes your insides flutter. Friends, friends, friends. You repeat inside your mind, same thing Eddie is doing, although neither of you are aware. Friends hiding their true feelings.
“I’m honoured, sweetheart.” Eddie adds, placing a ring-clad hand on his heart.
“As you should be,” you tease and walk past him, pushing open a door into the vocal booth. 
The Corroded Coffin frontman follows you with zero to no hesitation. He watches as you slowly circle the small room before standing in front of a microphone, adjusting it to your height.
“I recorded every single one of my songs here apart from Honesty,” you reveal without looking at him. Focusing instead on tightening the metal rod in place. “Hundreds of records that will probably never see the light of day because my label doesn’t think they are good enough.”
Eddie snorts. “As if you could make something that wasn’t deemed good. We wrote shit together, remember? I know how good you are.”
Your lips twist into a timid smile and glance up at him from your lashes. “I appreciate that Eds, but unfortunately the industry doesn’t work that way and you, of all people, should understand.”
“Well, yeah, but doesn’t your grandmother have some sort of special power to get you whatever the fuck you want.”
It’s your turn to snort. “She may be resourceful, but she’s got no control over my management team. Even if she likes to think she does, the only real ability my Nana possesses is tell me what to wear and how to act.”
Eddie nods, taking note of this information. Knowledge he can use to free himself from deceit, blackmail.
Valuable insight into the evil woman that ruined his life since, as you’ve now so beautifully explained, she’s not nearly as formidable as she presented herself to be. A light at the end of the tunnel.
“Perhaps that’s why I can’t bring myself to listen to it,” you say, breaking Eddie away from his thoughts.
“What?”
“Perhaps that’s why I can’t bring myself to listen to Honesty. Because I didn’t record it here.” Nothing to do with the fact that it’s soiled by the memory of the last morning we saw each other, you think, clearly lying to yourself, and him.
Eddie swallows his breath. A twinge of guilt rushes through him. Actually, more than a twinge. A gush, like a waterfall out of control. He’s sure of it now. The two of you could never be just friends. Not until you knew the whole truth about why he did what he did and now that he knew your grandmother had a weakness in her armour, perhaps offering you the truth is something he could do sooner rather than later.
“Then maybe we should change that,” Eddie offers and proceeds to quickly shuffle out of the room, leaving you alone for a second.
You watch through the glass separating the two spaces as he scans the buttons, hands on his hips, tip of his tongue out to indicate he’s thinking. He looks cute and you fail to conceal a smile, so you opt to hang your head and stare at your shoes because you can’t afford to think he’s any sort of desirable. Just friends.
After taking a moment to familiarise himself with a new system, Eddie finds what he’s looking for and switches it on, before hurrying back to stand next to you.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” you affirm while putting a pair of headphones on.
For the next four minutes and twenty-two seconds, you get lost in the chocolate of Eddie’s eyes as you once again sing the song he wrote about you.
“Honestly, you got me fallin’ to my knees
It’s like ecstasy, this feelin’ inside of me
Let’s call it honesty”
Cove City Sound Studios creates magic. You’ve always believed it and now it’s only been affirmed because the way your voice melts with his — no band, no distractions — is nothing short of perfection. 
“You’re a devil in disguise
No, that’s what I want you to be
‘Cause in reality, hon’, you’re a hypnotic dream
An angel for sure
To a non-believer like me
Oh honesty, what have you done to me, honestly”
That’s why the song was a hit in the first place. Now you understand why your management team pushed you to do this collaboration in the first place. Magic. And as Eddie draws the last syllable without breaking eye contact, you’re transported back to the night you met. The night that inspired this song. 
The night that started all of this.
His mind wanders to the same moment, same place, same spot. Friendship is a word that no longer makes sense, but the rockstar doesn’t want to ruin anything (again), so he drops the headphones and exits the booth without saying anything.
You follow him with your gaze. A feeling of longing spreads through you faster than you know what to do with it. It’s unfortunately accompanied by fear because you’re not stupid, far from it. Eddie’s hurt you twice before. Going back in only to get burned a third time would be a grave mistake and you know better than to go down that road again. ‘Cause you do know better, right?
Then this morning’s conversation with Holly enters your mind. Your best friend was right. You could never be happy around him if you didn’t know the truth.
“Eddie, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think if you didn’t end things when you did, we’d still be together? Or do you think we were doomed regardless?”
He takes a moment to answer. Avoiding looking up through the glass to meet your curious gaze, anxious for an answer.
“I already told you.” His deep voice eventually booms through the speakers. “I’m not the relationship type.”
“Bullshit,” you’re quick to state. It comes out harsher than intended.
“Sweetheart—” He’s shaking his head, still without looking at you.
“No, don’t you fucking dare,” you interrupt, suddenly feeling deflated by this whole situation, defeated in the fight against your feelings towards him. “Like I said before, you don’t get to sweetheart me and give me some bullshit vague answer.”
Eddie’s eyes are now closed. He’s hoping if he shows how he wants no part of this conversation — not right now, not before he gets to speak to your management and then offers you up the truth — that you will let it go. Like you did that night in Coney Island and those last few days too. You seemingly let it go and everything was okay. Fucking friends.
“I gave in too quickly. Into your presence. I missed you so much that when you showed up at my door, it didn’t matter how angry or heartbroken I was. All that mattered was seeing you again and being around you again. But I should’ve stood my ground.”
You’re now standing right in front of the glass window. Arms hanging by your side, nails digging into your palms to pump the adrenaline that’s fueling this fight.
“No matter how many times you tell me that you’re not the relationship type, I won’t believe you. I refuse to believe you because that guy I met in an empty kitchen of a Hidden Hills mansion was looking for something more than a random hook up. He may not have said it, but he proved it with his actions,” you continue your reasonings, “He craved something meaningful. I saw it in the way he smiled every time his eyes met mine, and sensed it in the way he held me close.”
Then you exhale.
“That guy, although hiding behind a mask of an arrogant  dickhead, he wanted to be loved and Jesus Christ did I—”
Eddie’s gaze snaps to you then, widening.
“But if I got it all wrong,” you continue after a few seconds, “If I misunderstood that guy and what he really wanted, then all I need is for him to be straight with me,” you conclude, “No bullshit excuses, Eddie. If you simply didn’t like me, if you simply didn’t care, just say that and we can both carry on with our lives as if nothing ever happened.”
The door slams. Eddie stands in front of you in a flash, brown eyes holding onto yours with force. He’s agitated. He runs a hand down his face before reaching for your shoulders, then dropping his arms back by his side just as fast.
“I cared, of course I cared!” He exhales to compose himself before continuing, “I still care.” It’s barely a whisper.
“Then why?”
“I-I… Well, I just…”
His mind is racing to find the right answer. The truth is what you’re after, unfortunately that’s the one thing he can’t give you yet. Not if he wants to continue witnessing your success. Because, at the end of the day, his own fame and fortune is no longer important. He could care less if it burned to the ground. Your fame however, your fortune, that’s not something Eddie’s willing to gamble. So again, until he can speak to your management, get ahead of your grandmother’s scheming, the truth will remain sealed.
At least some part of it.
“There was this girl. Back home.” Eddie begins, voice shaky, “Before you, she was the only girl that ever saw me for who I really was.”
“Chrissy Cunningham,” you say her name.
Eddie nods.
“Yeah, Chrissy,” he repeats the name. It tastes a little foreign on his tongue after all this time. “Seemingly the classic cheerleader type, you know? Blonde, preppy, always fucking smiling. But Chrissy, she uh… she was far from just a cheerleader. Like me, she was a little misunderstood and that’s what initially brought us together.”
“What happened to her?” You ask. “You keep saying ‘was’. Chrissy was, as if she’s no longer—”
“Look, sweetheart,” Eddie interrupts, “I-I don’t really talk about her. I don’t like to. Too many bad memories.”
“Right,” you murmur, nodding slowly.
“Long story short, I cared for her and it didn’t end well, so when my care for you started to surpass that feeling… I just got scared.”
“Then why not tell me about her in the first place?” You query, “We could’ve talked it out. Pumped the brakes on whatever our relationship was starting to become.”
Eddie doesn’t mean to, but he scoffs. “And then what, huh? Just tip-toe around how we’re actually feeling until that builds resentment? Then it just ends anyway, but it hurts a lot more, no?”
He’s running a hand through his wild locks. Frustrated wouldn’t be the right word. Annoyed feels borderline the same. Angry, yes, but not at you. Angry at the world for introducing such a perfect character into his otherwise shitty life because he’d be better off without you. No. You’d be better off without him? Also no. Jesus Christ, he’s fucking confused.
“That’s what you asked. If I didn’t end things, would we still be together. The truth is, sweetheart, I don’t know because I attract bad shit and people get hurt and… And I need you to be happy, with or without me.”
Silence falls upon the two of you. It’s heavy with the half-truths that were just revealed. Heavy with the underlying tones that are telling you Eddie still cares, and telling him that so do you — more than either of you were willing to admit back then, and even less now.
And there’s definitely feelings there. They bubbled up the second you laid your eyes on him again and as your few days together passed without a major blowout, they only grew stronger — something you explained to Holly, who said that Eddie was so unlike you, it only made sense to feel something towards him. Love him, even.
Perhaps the hurt was worth it.
“Oh, fuck.”
“What?” Eddie’s brows string together as you momentarily glance at your feet before settling your gaze back on the rockstar.
“Guess we were never supposed to do this right.”
“What?” Eddie asks again.
“You said that to me. Back in LA after that picture of us was leaked to the press, remember?”
“Vaguely,” he answers.
“What if you were right?” You ask, tone a little quieter than seconds prior.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not sure I’m following.”
Decided on your next move, in what you want to happen, you take a step towards the Corroded Coffin frontman so that the tips of your heels are touching his loosely tied Converse. You then place a hand on his chest, albeit hesitantly, and Eddie inhales a sharp breath (loud enough for you to hear).
“What if all of this, everything that happened between us, is because we were never meant to do this right in the first place, Eds?” 
A timid smile circles your lips as the question you asked settles in the air. Loaded full of uncertainty for the future and everything that time ahead holds for the two of you. Your Nana would say that a person of your stature shouldn’t give into uncertainty, something that in Eddie’s case was often repeated by Marianne. Everything is always meticulously planned. No room for error because uncertainty leads to mistakes and those are a nightmare for your respective PR teams. Unfortunately for those teams, uncertainty is what drew you to each other in the first place.
That, and insane fucking attraction.
“I did come here because I regret my decision,” he says while you say, “I miss you.” Both come out at the same time. Mumbled, jumbled together. It registers though.
Without giving it a second thought, Eddie dips his head lower while his hands reach for your face, ring-clad fingers now holding your cheeks. In that same breath, his lips crash against yours in a yearning kiss — one that is fuelled by months of pent up tension and a desire you both shared since your first meeting back in August of ‘92.
It's a dance of fire. One that is burning bigger and brighter with every second his mouth is attached to yours. Dangerous, would be a good word to describe this moment, but the line has been crossed yet again and since there’s definitely no going back now, your fingers tangle themselves in his brown locks as you push your body closer. Eddie also gets braver. He bites down on your bottom lip and when you gasp ever so softly, the rockstar slides his tongue in with ease.
You feel elated. This is exactly what you’ve been missing and by the way Eddie’s tongue twirls within your mouth, hands squishing your face, afraid to let go, you know it’s what he’s been missing too.
It’s destructive, for sure. But the hurt is worth it. You know that now. You feel it. Every single fibre of your being grows more and more alive as Eddie presses into you further, as he caresses your skin with so much tenderness. And you’re beyond cloud nine. Beyond touching heaven. It’s destructive, but it’s bliss.
“If we keep kissing like this,” he whispers against your lips, forehead pressing against yours, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to contain myself.”
“Who says you have to?”
Eddie groans against your jawline before continuing to trail soft pecks along your skin until he reaches your ear, biting it gently.
“We should probably talk about what this means,” he says, but you just shake your head. “‘Cause friends don’t kiss like that, sweetheart.”
“I don’t care about that now, Eds.” You affirm, sure of what you want. Sure that you don’t ever want to forget him or move on. He is a part of you, forever. “I just want you.”
And with that your lips finds his again.
The kiss is feverish, messy. You’re tugging at each other’s clothes, desperately trying to get them out of the way as fast as possible. In an attempt to be even closer, propelled by an indescribable urge, Eddie shifts your positions so that his back is the one to the room, you’re by the wall, and mere seconds later, your back is pressed firmly against his chest.
His strong hands send shivers through your body as they make their way down until they reach your panties, skirt long disregarded, a garment on the floor. He no longer hesitates about what this means, ripping the material down before his feet are kicking your legs apart. Ring-clad fingers slide along the curve of your ass, kneading the flesh, desperate to feel you. All of you. And as one hand works to unzip his pants, the other works its way to your wet entrance, feeling along your slit.
“Please, please…” The excitement causes you to grow warm and moist in his hand.
He can’t contain himself. Removing his hand in a rapid manner, he pushes his cock inside of your starved pussy. You close your eyes at the contact and Eddie begins to fuck you, hard. Rhythm picks up rapidly and you’re clenching around him in a matter of minutes, lower muscles seizing at the contact they’ve long forgotten, but were now more than pleasantly reminded of. 
“God,” he groans, “I fucking missed you.”
The moan that escapes your lips is nothing short of pornographic. It’s a direct response to his words, as well as his actions. He’s pounding into you relentlessly. There’s no time for pleasantries or any sort of softness. This is all about fulfilling a need-based desire and you’re more than willing to comply, high on his voice when he praises “Fuck, baby”, and “You’re doing so good for me, pretty girl.”
When you feel his hands grip your hips, you moan his name. Loud, pathetic. Undone. The rockstar begins to bounce you against him. Your knees weaken and you fall back onto him, head now resting on his shoulder, losing yourself completely in the moment and the pure ecstasy that you’re feeling. The pleasure is almost too much for you.
“Eddie, I’m so close,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. 
The Corroded Coffin frontman captures your mouth with his. Short, but far from sweet is the kiss. Hungry and devilish. He bites your bottom lip as he pulls away, drawing just a prick of blood.
“Let go for me, baby.” 
When you do, obeying his request, your whole body shivers harshly in his embrace. Eddie keeps going, only his pace has slowed. He’s whispering sweet-nothings into your ear, continuously praising you for being his good girl, and you promise yourself that no matter what happens next, you’re going to be that forever. 
The high soon ends and Eddie pushes you forward gently. You then feel the rockstar’s cock leave you, warm cum spurting over your ass without warning. You’re delighting in the feeling of his juices on your skin. He delights in it too, trailing his fingers over your rear until you turn around to face him.
There’s a smile on your face. Devious, yet benevolent.
Yes, Eddie thinks, Stevie Nicks was definitely right. ‘You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you.’ Not like he’d ever want to anyway.
Tumblr media
thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!
celebrity skin. masterlist
& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg - (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)
88 notes · View notes
shoalweedhence · 2 days
Text
You were out my League
Warnings: Reader with self-confidence issues
Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader
Content Tag: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff
Word Count: 1543
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just as you turn the page of the book lying in your lap, you feel the covers beneath you shift slightly. Glancing away from the page, you watch as Eddie, eyes closed and fully immersed in his own world, bobs his head to the music you can faintly hear as it filters through his headphones. Your eyes lower down to his fidgeting hand, fingers splayed on the bed -his bed- as they tap along to the melody. The rings adorning his knuckles glint in the afternoon sunlight streaming through his open window. The warm air caresses your face, guiding you like a soft hand tilting your chin back up. You look at your boyfriend’s concentrated features, his eyebrows knitting, the edge of his nose pinching, the corners of his mouth moving almost imperceptibly in a downward motion.
You could lose yourself for hours at the sight of him -actually, you already had, many times before, and did not plan on stopping anytime soon, partly because you enjoyed looking at him very much, and partly because you thought that, maybe, if you looked at him just long enough, the answer to a seemingly life-long question you had would finally be answered.
Because, seriously, how *had* you managed to go out with him? 
You had been told many times that you should not question it. ‘If he’s happy with you and you’re happy with him, don’t overthink it’ your friends of the Hellfire Club had been quick to reassure you, both wanting you to be happy as well as rooting for their leader to finally have some more positives in his life. 
You wanted to not overthink, of course, and you did your best to not let your mind wander whenever Eddie did something kind for you; that one time he agreed to give you a lift back home because your car was getting fixed, the way he would hold your hands -whenever the Texan weather decided to cool for two days in the year- and bring them up to his face, blowing a warm breath on them, the way he would bring you food to share and a movie to watch when things were tough, the way he was patient and considerate, but just persistent enough to have you explain what your limits were in this relationship… he would just drop anything he was doing in a heartbeat if it was for you. Had you ever done anything like that for him?
Ultimately, though, the voice at the back of your head would just not stop nagging you, and you learned to live with this constant headache.
You jumped a little when you felt something warm touch your hand. You looked down hastily, noticing a ringed hand covering yours before your eyes flitted back up towards Eddie’s.
“What is it?” He asked, taking off his headphones with his free hand.
“What do you mean?” You answered after a pause, your throat feeling stuffy, as if it was full of cotton, since you had not talked for a while.
“You were staring,” he said, and as your eyes averted his from embarrassment. “I don’t mind, it’s just,” he added quickly, shifting his position on the bed so he was facing you, both of his hands playing with yours, “sometimes you get that look in your eyes, and it seems like you’re not having happy thoughts…” 
Of course he had noticed. One more reason to get him a trophy for best boyfriend on the planet, you thought.
But despite how elated your heart felt, singing his praises for how well he was able to read you, now, you also felt quite vulnerable. He was your partner, and a wonderful one at that, and you knew you could trust him -seriously, you could not imagine yourself with someone you did not fully trust, and Eddie met that criteria with remarkable skill. 
Still, you wondered if he might take it badly. After all, if you told him you did not feel you deserved his love, did that imply that you thought he might expect something from you which you were not aware of? Did you think he was manipulating you? Were you the one leading him on, hiding what you were really thinking? Did you even trust that anyone could love you?
“You don’t have to tell me,” Eddie said when he saw you spiralling down into your thoughts, “but I want to be here for you, and I will listen if there’s anything you want to tell me.”
The sound of his voice, deep and slightly gravely as he kept it low with a confidential tone, brought you back to reality. The feeling of his calloused fingertips tracing abstract patterns on the back of your palm now registering through your unfocused senses. As you looked back up at him, meeting his curious and concerned eyes you felt the shackles of your heart slacken.
“I just…” You trailed off, searching his soulful eyes for a hint of irritation, but instead finding bucket loads of compassion, “you are so out of my league.”
You were expecting a laugh, and he did smile a bit, but instead, he tilted his head to the side.
“Why do you think that?”
You inhaled, feeling the contents of the inside of your heart make their way up your throat, and as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt any hope of restraint dissolve.
“Well, you’re incredible, in every possible way. You’re strong, impossibly kind, extremely skilled at anything you set your mind to, you are so panoptically passionate, you’re funny, you’re unfathomably dependable and you never let your friends down, you’re goofy, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, you can sense when people need cheering up and you just cheer them up by, I don’t know, some kind of Eddie magic,” you gestured with your free hand as if you held a wand, earning a chuckle from Eddie, “you’re just so amazing, I don’t think I deserve-”
You stopped yourself before the sentence could fully leave your lips, swallowing back the last word with difficulty. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter:
“And then you go around and do the sweetest things for me, the most touching gestures and you’re so thoughtful…”
You sighed, taking a few seconds to steady your breathing as your soliloquy left your lungs empty. You looked at the book in your lap, the words incoherently blurring together, the sentences stringing themselves in one long incomprehensible line. Your eyes moved away from the paper, getting distracted by the bigger palms having captured your own. 
“You don’t think you deserve that?” Eddie asked calmly.
You looked up at him, his brown eyes shifting with an emotion you found impossible to decipher. You nodded.
Eddie smiled sadly, “Sweetheart, you’re like the perfect opposite of a Hobbit.”
If it were not for the whiplash you had just been victim to, your heart melting at the nickname he gave you, followed by the name of a fictional race you were not necessarily certain you wanted to be associated with, you surely would have answered more eloquently. Instead, only a ‘huh’ escaped your lips.
“You’re exactly like Bilbo’s evil doppelgänger,” Eddie continued, nodding to himself.
“...I’m not following.”
“Anytime something bad happens during his journey, what does Bilbo Baggins do? He ruminates -which you’re quite good at doing too, that’s maybe your one similarity- but he looks out onto the unjust world that took him out of his cozy, warm and delightful Hobbit hole and he vents his frustration outwards. You, my dear, do the opposite. Anytime something good happens to you, and yes, I will speak of myself as a positive in your life, that string of compliments you gave me is going to serve as an ego boost for years to come, you start questioning it, thinking back on all the negative you’ve ever experienced and wondering if you do deserve that good.” One of Eddie’s hands left yours and he cupped your cheek, “be more like Bilbo. Take credit for the good things when they happen and be frustrated at the world when things go wrong, not the other way around.”
You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill and leaned into his touch. 
“Come here,” Eddie whispered, pulling you into his chest as he rested his head on top of yours.
Closing your eyes, you focused on his strong heartbeat that you could feel pulsating at regular intervals against your back. There was also his scent, which you could now take full inhales of as you stood closer to him, though the smell of weed was the most intense one. Your fingers idly played with the pins and patches on his jean jacket, tracing the designs that you knew by heart.
After a few moments, you turned your head just a bit, looking up at him. You bit your lip as your smile threatened to morph into laughter at the joke formulating in your head.
“If I become more like Bilbo I might just grow long curly hairs on my feet, though.”
The echo of Eddie’s laugh reverberated against your back as his chest shook.
“I’d still love you.”
54 notes · View notes