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angelicmunson · 1 year

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wildflower — virgin!eddie munson x f!reader

summary: You offer to have sex with your best friend after he admits to being a virgin while you're both high.

content warnings: swearing, food (briefly), smut [unprotected vaginal penetration, oral (f & m receiving), loss of virginity, slight and very brief dumbification (it’s endearing, I promise), recreational drug use, no spoilers for st4 vol2

additional notes: takes place during episode 1 of s4 but nothing bad happens! i've never been high before so please don't call me out for my accuracy of being stoned || THIS HAS BEEN COMPLETELY EDITED AND REVISED SINCE IT WAS FIRST POSTED 7.10.22. UPDATED ON 8.12.22

6.8k words | masterlist | ao3

“I’m tired of being a wallflower,” you once told Eddie while high in his trailer. You stared at the stain on his ceiling with your ankles draped over his thighs. You were an observer. You spoke when spoken to or to defend someone else— especially Eddie. You let people assume whatever they wanted about you. But you could’ve been more. Class president, chief yearbook editor, Prom Queen. But you had a pretty rad group of friends and the freshmen who called you their big sister. You might not be well known, but you were well loved.

“You’re not a wallflower, sweetheart.” Eddie drew soft swirls on your ankle. Four years of this— cuddling, hugs, and the occasional kiss on the cheek. You never grew tired of it. And butterflies never ceased to flutter when Eddie’s skin was on yours. Yeah, you were in love with your best friend.

“You’re more like… like a wildflower. Yeah. a wildflower.”

You giggled when he reached a ticklish spot on your foot. “How so?”

“You know,” Eddie shrugged.

“No, Eds, I don’t know.”

“Wildflowers can grow anywhere, right? Like they just pop up out of the ground and you’re like ‘what the fuck?’”

You frowned. “Are you calling me a weed?”

“Shut up.” Eddie pinched your foot. “I mean they’re…” Eddie snapped his ring-clad fingers as if doing so would find him the word he was searching for. “They’re resilient! Like they don’t need water or good soil to grow, they just find a way. And I think you’re a lot like that. You’re the strongest person I know and no matter what you’re going through, you look at the silver lining of everything. You could go anywhere or do anything and be amazing at it. Because… ‘cause you’re amazing.”

You blinked at Eddie. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“I’m a wise old prophet when I’m high.”

“You’re a dork, is what you are. And I love-” you paused. “I love how you make me feel better.”

Eddie tickled the bottom of your foot again, making your toes curl. “Always, wildflower.”

Seven Months Later

You’re laying on Eddie’s couch again, in the same position you were when you almost told him you love him. More than friendship love. You are in love with him and you fall in love with him more and more every single day. And now, you’re a month from graduating high school. Eddie is on the precipice of potentially never repeating his senior year again. You are going to make sure of it.

Eddie let you put on Pete’s Dragon, but neither of you is paying attention. He runs his hands over your ankles and it makes your skin tingle. Your tummy still fills with butterflies, but the weed in your system keeps your heart from beating as erratically as it does when you’re sober.

You almost snicker as you think about how this innocent touch from Eddie makes you more overwhelmed than when you last had sex with a guy from Christian Academy.

“What’re you thinking about?” Eddie rolls his head against the couch cushion, smushing his cheek against his shoulder in the most adorable way.

“Orgasms.”

Eddie sits up and stares at you. “What?”

“Orgasms. You know, the climax, the high, the-”

“I know what an orgasm is,” Eddie mumbles.

“So then you know how to make a girl cum? How to satisfy her needs? I feel like it’s a lost cause. I mean, I don’t sleep around or anything but every guy I’ve been with hasn’t been able to make me cum. It’s not fucking rocket science.”

Why are you talking about this? Why are you talking about your (unsuccessful) sexual encounters with the man who packs you extra pretzels because you always steal his? What do you hope to gain from this conversation?

Eddie is just as confused as you are. You two never talk about your sex lives with each other. Ever. It’s like an unspoken agreement since the beginning of your friendship. Eddie, especially, didn’t want to know about your sex life because what he doesn't know can’t hurt him. He likes to pretend your sex life is nonexistent, much like his own, because picturing you with some sleaze-ball from high school makes his insides twist. Nobody is good enough for you and your admission just made for more proof.

“Why- why are you asking me this?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I feel bad talking about it with Nancy since her boyfriend is hundreds of miles away and I don’t really think Robin wants to hear about it either. I’m just tired of guys thinking they can make a girl cum from absolutely zero foreplay.”

Stop talking, you think. If you were sober, you would never tell Eddie any of this. Even though the two of you aren’t dating, there’s something about it that feels like a betrayal. Like it’s cheating on him. Which is just ridiculous, but the friendship and emotional relationship you have with Eddie is irreplaceable. It’s impossible to be replicated by any other guy you’ve gone out with. You have an Eddie-sized void in your heart and it’s not even his fault. It was yours, all because you didn’t have the courage to tell him how you really felt.

Eddie, usually so quick with comebacks, has no idea what to say. How is he supposed to form words in his mouth when all he wants to do is puke? He wishes it was him. He wishes he could try to make you feel good. But what chance does a virgin have of making you orgasm? Sure, he’s read magazines and watched porn, but he’s never put it into practice.

“I mean, is it really that difficult to ask a girl what she wants? What feels good? Eddie Munson, I really hope you take care of your girl before yourself at least half of the time.” Your girl. Who is his girl? Does he have one? You don’t really want to know about the girls he’s been with or how good he’s made them feel. Just the thought of Eddie with anybody but you makes your skin crawl.

Hypocrite.

Eddie’s heart is pounding, his skin is burning. He trusts you. He should be able to tell you that he’s a virgin and have no shame about it. It’s not a bad thing by any means, but he still thinks it makes him lame. Fucking stigma. You wouldn’t think that, would you? Of course not. Yet, there’s still this fear of what you might think of him. Does he tell you and risk humiliation? Or lie and hope for the best?

“Uh… there’s no girl. There’s never been a girl.”

You don’t react immediately. You’re too distracted by how pretty he looks with the flickering light of the television against his pale face. He licks his bottom lip absentmindedly and he’s just so beautiful. Fuck. He’s distracting you. Was it on purpose? Wait, what did he even say?

“What?”

Eddie sighs, crossing his legs on the couch like he’s in kindergarten. “No one wants to have sex with The Freak of Hawkins, wildflower.”

You wince at that name. Not the sweet one he calls you, but the one he calls himself. What 99% of Hawkins calls him. You hate it. Nobody, but a select few, know him for who he really is. He’s playful and dramatic. You always thought he should’ve been in theater. He’s a jokester, always making you laugh when you’re having a bad day or cracking jokes to make the good days better. He is kind and thoughtful, buying cassette tapes of artists he would never listen to on his own, but so you can listen to them when you’re at his place.

There is nothing you wouldn’t do for him. “I wouldn’t say no one,” you say gently.

A scoff leaves Eddie’s mouth and he rolls his eyes. “Trust me, sweetheart. No girl in Hawkins wants to deal with all this,” he gestures down his body, making you glance down at the chain resting against his thigh. The exposed skin peeking out of the holes of his black jeans. You swallow hard as you think about what you want to say next.

“I would,” you blurt out.

Eddie chokes on his spit. Or was it his tongue? Or the air? Or all of the above? “P-pardon?”

You clear your throat of the lump that is forming. You’ve really done it now. No going back. “I would have sex with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” If you are fucking with him right now, Eddie’s not sure if he can forgive you. Friends don’t joke about these kinds of things. Right?

“Yes, I would, Eddie,” your voice is stern. “Why is that so hard to believe? You’re fucking hot.” Although you know exactly what you’re saying, you can’t quite believe it. Sober you would never have the guts. “Would you want to have sex with me?”

Eddie opens his mouth but you quickly put your finger over his pink lips. They’re so soft.

“Don’t answer that. If we’re… if we remember this conversation when we’re sober, then we can talk about this? That is if you’re not totally repulsed with the idea of having sex with me.”

“I-”

“Ah, ah. Don’t answer that. We’ll talk tomorrow. ‘M sleepy,” you yawn, laying your head against Eddie’s shoulder. You nestle into him comfortably, taking up your usual position. Except this time, Eddie kisses the top of your head and mumbles something you didn’t understand.

That’s new.

Despite getting approximately 0.3 hours of sleep last night, Eddie gets to school before you. He refused to fall asleep because he was worried he’d forget about your conversation when he woke up.

He did not forget.

You only know Eddie got to school before you because when you open your locker before first period, a folded piece of paper falls to the ground. It’s a note from him, scrawled in black sharpie, as it always is.

(I remember our conversation. Please tell me you do, too. -E)

You press the paper to your chest as your eyes draw to a close. You thought about your conversation with Eddie precisely 8 times since you woke up. Your drive home from his place in the middle of the night consisted of you deciding whether or not you dreamt the whole thing. This note from Eddie is pretty solid proof that it was not a dream.

Please tell me you do, too.

Does that mean he wanted to… have sex with you? Or does it mean he wants to talk about your offer some more? Or does he want to shut you down completely?

You rip a piece of paper from your notebook and scribble down a reply. Your hand is shaking, making your cursive slightly messier than usual.

(I remember, Eds. My place after Hellfire? Parents are out of town. Empty house. But we can just talk. ♡ Wildflower)

You fold Eddie’s note in thirds and stuff it in your back pocket. You gather your books for first and second periods and head towards Eddie’s locker. You want to deliver the note before the first period bell, but it is proving much more difficult than you would’ve liked.

You run into Mike and Dustin, who are both apparently pissed that Lucas needs them to ask Eddie to cancel Hellfire. Because of the Championship basketball game, of all reasons.

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen,” you roll your eyes. You press on towards the direction of Eddie’s locker, but Dustin jumps in front of you. “Jesus Christ, Dustin.”

“That’s why we need you.”

“Why?”

“Eddie can’t say no to you,” Mike explains.

You’re confused. What is it they want you to do? Who says he can’t say no to you? “He says no to me all the time. Like when I want to watch The Love Bug or listen to Joni Mitchell.”

Dustin gives you a quizzical look. “The Love-”

“Look, all we need you to do is ask Eddie to postpone tonight’s game. That’s it,” Mike pleads.

You sigh. You’d love to help them, you really would. But Eddie doesn’t postpone or cancel Hellfire for anything. “Sorry, boys. But even I can't make Eddie give up Hellfire. Not even for the premiere of Return of the Jedi. So if you want him to postpone D&D for a basketball game, you’re out of your mind. Isn’t it the end of his campaign, anyway?”

“That’s why we need him to postpone. Lucas doesn’t want to miss it, but he has the all-important commitment as a benchwarmer. Soooo… what do you say?” Dustin wiggles his eyebrows up and down. You’re about to shut him down again, but the bell rings.

“I’m sorry, Dusty, but you know he’s gonna say no.” You run off to first period in the direction from which you came, realizing that you never got the note to Eddie’s locker. You can slip it in on your way to second period.

In the meantime, a bubble of joy forms in your stomach when you think about how Dustin and Mike think you’re the only person Eddie can’t say no to.

You shuffle your books in your arms as soon as the dismissal bell rings. You retained just about nothing from class. Instead of taking notes on what to study for the final, you wrote down questions to ask Eddie.

What’s the furthest you’ve gone?

Have you watched porn?

Do you have any idea of what you like? What turns you on?

But then you felt like you were getting ahead of yourself. There is a chance he doesn’t want to accept your offer at all. And that made you violently rip out the piece of paper, crumple it, and stuff it in your bag.

You quickly make your way over to Eddie’s locker as you only have 4 minutes and counting to deliver the note and get to class. But he’s there getting books out.

“I’m really going to apply myself this year. I can’t let you escape Hawkins without me,” he told you on his third first day of senior year.

Your feet are glued to the floor as you stare at Eddie’s backside. You take deep breaths, debating whether or not to give him the note or brave speaking to him face-to-face.

He slams his locker shut and turns in your direction. His loose waves fall over his shoulders and he was wearing his typical outfit for a Friday, accessorized with the bandana you gifted him on his birthday last year. Although you’ve seen him in the outfit too many times to get worked up over, you are done for.

You’re standing a row of lockers away from Eddie, with your books pressed against your chest. He smiles brightly when he sees you.

“Morning, wildflower,” Eddie saunters over, swinging his black lunchbox back and forth. Only Eddie would be brave (or stupid) enough to wave around his lunchbox full of weed in the school hallway.

“H-hi, Eds,” your voice comes out as a squeak.

He tilts his head with his brows knit together. “Everything…okay?”

No, I have raging anxiety because I got your note and I don’t know if it means you want to have sex with me and if you do, I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse.

“Sweetheart?”

You blink twice. “Uh, yes. Yes, everything is great. I- I got your note.”

“Oh.”

You can’t read Eddie’s tone. “Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?”

“Oh… uh… good?”

Why is this so awkward???

Janine Newell only adds to the awkwardness when she politely pushes herself between you and Eddie to get to her locker. He pulls you towards his, heavy metal and rock band stickers designating which locker has been his for the last 6 years.

You glance at the clock on the wall: 2 minutes until the passing period is over. You dig your note out of your pocket. “I wrote down my reply and I was going to slip it in your locker before first period but Dustin and Mike needed to talk to me. Oh, by the way, they want you to cancel hellfire tonight and I said ‘in your dreams’ because you won’t even cancel Hellfire for me, your best friend. So, yeah I told them it was a lost cause but for whatever reason, they think you can’t say no to me which is why they wanted me to ask—”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie puts his hands on your shoulders and you look down at the white shoes you and Eddie have on. His are much dirtier than yours, though. He lifts your chin with his finger, giving you no option but to look him in the eyes. Shock waves are sent down your spine and you try not to shiver beneath his touch. “What did you write in the note?”

“That- that I remember our conversation, too. And my parents are out of town so the house is empty. You can come over after Hellfire to talk or to…”

Eddie’s biting his bottom lip and he really, really needs to not do that. Something inside of you ignites. It’s his hands firmly on your shoulders, his slightly stooped posture so that he’s eye level with you. The close proximity of your faces.

The bell for second period rings and that’s when you realize everyone has gone to class and you and Eddie are alone in the hall. “I’ll be there, wildflower. I’ll call when I’m on my way, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now go before Mr. Wallis marks you late and you ruin your perfect attendance.” Eddie slaps your backside playfully and that fire inside of you grows stronger.

Eddie is leaning against your ‘64 green Mustang after school. His legs are crossed at his ankles and his arms are folded across his chest. “Hi,” he greets you cheerily.

“Hi,” you say back. The awkward feeling you felt that morning has dissolved and you are thankful for that. It’s back to being you and Eddie. Eddie and you. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for tonight’s meeting? End of the campaign and all that?”

“I canceled,” Eddie replies like it’s as simple as cutting Ms. Trueblood’s English class.

You’re shocked, to say the least. And a bit peeved that he’d postpone Hellfire for Lucas and the basketball game and not for you. “Oh. That was nice of you. I’m sure the freshies were happy about that. How did Gareth and Jeff take it?”

“I didn’t postpone for Lucas. I postponed for you. For us.”

Oh. Oh. You were no longer peeved. You were… pleased. You couldn’t help the corner of your lips from tugging upwards. “Did you, now?”

“Does your offer still stand?”

“Follow me home and you’ll find out.” You unlock your car and slide in, turning on the ignition immediately.

“I’ll try not to run any stop signs,” Eddie pats the hood of your car and runs to his van.

Eddie runs 5 stop signs. He only comes to rolling stops because you stop at the signs. He pulls his van up next to your car in the driveway and he can’t help but chuff at how domestic it feels.

“You’re a brat, you know that?”

“What, because I obey the law and drive safely?” You stick your house key in the lock and push open your front door.

“Because you delayed us getting here by at least 30 seconds,” Eddie follows you through the door and into the kitchen to find himself an after-school snack. He rummages through the fridge and pulls out a Granny Smith apple. He hops onto the counter and crunches down on the fruit.

You jump onto the countertop opposite Eddie. Your heels knock against the cabinet doors. “And what’s put you in such a rush to eat my apples, hm?”

Eddie takes a large bite before sliding off the counter, leaving the apple behind. He steps towards you, nudging himself between your legs. His arms are propped on either side of your hips, caging you in. “You have the best apples.”

“Do I?” You entertain. You try keeping a calm exterior despite the fire in your stomach spreading throughout your entire nervous system.

“Yeah.” Eddie leans in closer to you. “Would you like to taste?”

You don’t even reply before you plant your lips on Eddie’s. He’s tart, the flavor of the green apple tingling your lips. But once you’re past that, it’s all Eddie. Unfamiliar yet safe. Unpracticed and clumsy, yet perfect in every way. You inhale, breathing him in like never before. His hands cup your cheeks, pushing you closer to him. He messily pokes out his tongue, a little too wet and a little too eager. It makes you giggle when you realize this may very well be his first kiss, too. Still, the butterflies inside of you are having a field day.

“Eddie,” you whisper, resting your forehead on his. You want him to be in control, to dictate what he wants or doesn’t want. You want to let him practice kissing you because it’s endearing and sweet and you would rather teach Eddie how to kiss than kiss anybody else ever again.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie retreats. His hands fall from your face and you instantly miss their warmth.

“What? Why are you sorry?” Your heart is thunking against your chest.

“I- I don’t know what I’m doing here. You probably just had the worst kiss of your life and you offered to have sex with me. If that was any indication of what to expect, then you’re allowed to rescind your offer and I’ll walk out of here, call up the guys, and host Hellfire.”

“You’ve been paying attention in English.”

“What?”

“You just used ‘rescind’ in a sentence. Properly, too.”

“I’m being serious,” Eddie’s voice is clipped. He steps away from you, clearly hurt that you aren’t acknowledging ‘the worst kiss of your life’.

“So am I.” You hook your fingers through Eddie’s belt loops and pull him towards you. “Eddie, you have no reason to be sorry. Everyone needs practice. And… I’m happy to let you practice on me. And I don’t want to rescind my offer. I want you to feel safe and comfortable with whoever you have sex with for the first time. I thought you’d feel that way with me.”

“I do, wildflower. I do. I just don’t want to fuck this up,” Eddie gestures between the two of you.

You chuckle as you wrap your legs around his waist. “I think we did that the second we kissed.”

“I think we should do it again just to make sure.” “It’d be foolish not to.” You sling your arms around his neck as you lean down, slanting your lips over his.

The kiss is slower than the first— as if both of you know it’s the second of many more and there’s no need to rush through it. You follow Eddie’s lead, tilting your head opposite his, noses brushing with each adjustment. He groans into you and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, much more smoothly than when he did. His right hand threads through your hair at the nape of your neck, and his left— heavy with rings— digs into your waist. You meet his groan with a needy whine, your legs constricting around him tightly.

You’re like a new drug. Intoxicating and addicting. And Eddie is sure he’d never be able to get enough. He runs his hands down your back and across your front, fingers playing with the buttons of your shirt. “Can I… take…off?”

“Yes,” you reply, one hand traveling below his waist. You place soft and delicate kisses down his neck, exploring the skin you’ve never touched in this capacity. When he reaches the final button of your shirt, you cup your hand over his cock. You squeeze it gently, testing the waters of his sensitivity.

His eyes clamp shut and he sputters, “F-f-fuck, sweetheart.”

“God, Eddie. You’re so big in my hand. Does that feel good?” You continue to palm him and your cunt is just aching. You shrug your shirt off your shoulders and discard it on the counter. Eddie’s head drops to your shoulder, hot shallow breaths tickling your skin.

“F-feels really good. Woah-” Eddie opens his eyes to see the tops of your breasts on display for him. His cock pulsed beneath your touch. He lifts his head up and lends back to take you all in— your tits pushed up by your bra, your soft tummy, the freckles and moles that decorate your skin. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

Eddie hovers his hands over your chest, fingers timid and asking for permission.

“Do you want me to take it off?”

Eddie gulps and nods shyly. He’s seen tits before— hell, he’s seen a lot of tits. Just not in person and definitely not yours. You reach behind your back, unclasping your bra. The straps fall down your arms slowly until finally your breasts are fully exposed. The two of you are silent, only the hum of your refrigerator filling the space between you. He looks at you with those beautiful brown eyes, tender, and kind.

“Jesus Christ, they’re perfect.” Eddie’s fingers hesitantly ghost over the mounds of your breasts. You grab onto his wrists, bringing his large hands over your flesh. He was gentle, despite the clunky rings on his long and slender fingers. “This is okay?”

“It’s more than okay, Eddie. You can do anything you want.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Can I… can I use my mouth?”

Your breath stops halfway up your throat. You swallow and answer him with a nod. You lean back on the counter, arms behind you with your chest proudly up in the air. Eddie finds a surge of confidence and immediately attaches his lips to your right nipple. His left hand kneads your other breast, growing more and more comfortable with your body at his disposal. He swirls his tongue around the bud like he’s done it before and you toss your head back. You card your hand through his messy hair, tugging at the roots with the same intensity as his tongue and hands on your tits.

“That’s good, Eds. Feels really good.”

Eddie lets out a desperate, hearty groan when he releases his lips from you. His eyes squeeze shut like he’s in pain and he shifts awkwardly on his feet. He pulls at the fabric against his crotch. “It um… it hurts.”

You bite your lip to refrain from laughing. How can he go from completely sexy to adorable in a matter of 2 seconds? “What you like me to do, love? Want my hands? My mouth?”

You can see the gears turning inside Eddie’s head. You don’t know if his version of being a virgin means some sexual experience, just no penetration, or absolutely nothing at all. If it was the latter, then it meant he’s never had someone else’s hands on his cock. “I don’t know what I want,” Eddie answers honestly.

“That’s okay, Eddie. Do you wanna go upstairs and get more comfortable?”

Eddie quirks a smile. “I’ll race you.” He takes off for your bedroom faster than you can hop off the counter. He’s skipping 2 stairs at a time and practically lunging onto your bed when he beats you to your room. He leans back on your pillows, hands resting under his head. The bulge in his jeans is evident in this position and your knees just about give out.

“I won,” he says smugly.

“You cheated.” You close your door, despite no one else at home. You crawl onto your bed and lay down next to Eddie.

He turns to you with a pout. “Does that disqualify me from having sex with you?”

As you pretend to think hard about your answer, a very real concern makes itself known. The line of friendship has already been blurred. But the kissing and foreplay could be passed off as two friends just messing around. You can probably shrug it off in a couple of weeks or so. But having sex with each other? Whether it’s incredible or terrible or somewhere in between, it is going to be something that changes your friendship forever.

“That depends, Mr. Munson. Do you solemnly swear to never replace me as your best friend when all this is said and done? That having sex with each other won’t make things awkward between us?”

“I promise to never replace you as my best friend. I don’t know about that last part, wildflower. What if I last a minute and I’m not better than… the other guys? Then I’d be the one you’d be complaining about to Nancy and Robin.”

“Hey,” you say tenderly, running your hand up and down Eddie’s arm. “What I had with those other guys is nothing like what I have with you. I- I hate dating and seeing other guys, Eddie. Because… all I want is… I just want you. It’s always been you. I want to be with you and I don’t care if you last 2 seconds. I don’t care if you don’t make me cum at all. I want to do this because it’s you. I want to do this for you.”

“You want to be with me? Like… right now in this moment or like… be seen in public with me and kiss and hold hands and do romantic shit?”

You laugh and bring your lips to Eddie’s. “And hold hands and do romantic shit.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool. Because I love you. And I really need you to do something about my dick. Because it really hurts.”

Because I love you. You’re pretty sure your heart just leaped out of your chest. He loves you. And he wants you to do something about his hurting dick. You can’t possibly love him any more than at this moment. “I love you too, Eddie Munson. And just for that, I’m going to use my hands and my mouth. Okay?”

You undo his belt and unclasped the button of his jeans. He looks down at you as you slide down the zipper.

“Ooookay, sweetheart. But take it easy with me. I’m new at this.” Eddie lifts up his hips so you can pull down his pants and boxers. His cock springs free and fucking shit. He’s large. A perfect balance of lengthy and girthy. “Is it… okay?”

You grab the base of his cock while looking up at him. “More than okay, Eddie. You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

His head falls back on your pillow at the compliment, his cheeks bloom with heat. Your hand is so fucking soft. Your cunt clenches, begging for any kind of relief. Not yet, you tell yourself. This is about Eddie. His swollen tip is glistening with precum and you angle him towards your mouth. He inhales sharply as you swirl your tongue over his spongey crown. You flick his slit with the tip of your tongue and he looks down at you in awe.

“F-fuck. You look s’pretty like that. Feels good. Feels so good.”

“Want more?”

“Yes,” Eddie chokes out. You fucking love how submissive he is right now, just letting you do what you want with him. You lower your mouth onto him. The flat of your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock. You push down as far as you can go before gagging on him. You hold yourself there for a moment, letting Eddie get used to the feeling of his cock inside someone’s mouth. Your mouth. You’re warm and soft and delightful. It’s indescribable. You twist your fist around the bottom half of his shaft, bobbing your head up and down to the same rhythm. He was gripping the comforter, his knuckles turning a pale white. “S-sweetheart. Stop, please.”

You release immediately, looking up at him worriedly. Your lips and chin are wet with his precum and your saliva and it looks fucking sinful. But then you ask if he’s okay and you’re suddenly the angel he knows you as.

“I-I’m great. I just- can I… can I taste you?”

“You sure?”

“I want you to feel good, too.”

“I do feel good, Eddie. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You smile at him. “Okay,” you lean back on your heels, undoing the button of your jeans. Eddie takes off his shirt and tosses it to the floor while you shimmy out of your pants. You lay down with your head at the foot of your bed, knees bent and spread for Eddie. He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and slides them down your legs. The cool air against your hot cunt makes your breath hitch.

Eddie gets down on his stomach and wraps his arms around your thighs, your legs falling over his shoulders. He seems to have a pretty good idea of what he is doing for his first time. “You’re so hot. I can’t fucking believe you, wildflower. My wildflower. I’m- I’m gonna suck at this but I’m gonna try to make you feel good.”

He puts his mouth over your cunt and begins licking between your folds. The immediate contact is relieving, your heels digging into his shoulder blades. It’s his effort that turns you on. He’s making the effort to please you and that’s what matters. He is messy and unskilled, but it’s still good. He’s sucking on your puffy lips, prodding the tip of his tongue into your hole. He moans into you, grinding his hips down on your bed. His fingertips press into the flesh of your thighs, making their territory with grape-sized blotches. Eddie lifts his head slightly.

“How can you taste so good?” He takes the flat of his tongue and licks you from the bottom up and then sucks down on your hard. “Where’s your— um, the special spot?”

“My clit?”

“Yeah, your clit.”

You smile widely at him. God, you love him. The fact that he’s asking you about your clit makes your heart and your cunt flutter. He’s trying. And he wants to learn. You grab his hand and place two of his fingers over the swollen nub. “Feel that right there?”

“Yeah,” Eddie bats his lashes at you.

“That’s my clit. Arguably the number one pleasure center on the female body. Vaginal orgasms are possible, but clitoral orgasms are much more achievable.”

“So how do I make you come?”

You don’t deserve Eddie Munson. You press your hand against his gently. “Well, you have to stimulate it. You can start with light pressure and slow circles.”

The pads of Eddie’s fingers are rough and calloused from years of guitar playing. He continues to rub circles but starts to speed up. “Yeah- yeah, that’s good Eds. You can kinda… go back and forth— like not always in circles. Like… try moving your fingers like you’re strumming your guitar.”

Now you’re speaking his language. Your clit only becomes more sensitive and visibly swollen, making him aware of exactly where to pleasure you. It takes him a couple of adjustments, but he finds a rhythm that feels so good. “Can I use my mouth, too?”

“Please,” you breathe. Eddie puts his lips back on your cunt, the combined feeling of his warm mouth and rough fingers makes you squirm. He’s a quick fucking learner, that’s for sure. He laps your juices into his mouth, slurping obscenely, rubbing furiously. Your legs begin to tremble and the tightness in your core wants to release. “Keep doing that, Eds. Gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Eddie hums against you, a third feeling briefly joining the cacophony of pleasure. He keeps his tempo perfectly and you’re cumming into his mouth in no time. Your legs squeeze around his neck, the rest of your body writhing against your bed as your orgasm courses through you. “Eddie! Fuck!”

Eddie sits up and you’re nothing but a limp body on your mattress. As you start to catch your breath, Eddie looks at you concerned. “Are you… are you okay?”

You laugh with the little amount of energy you have. “I’m more than okay. You just gave me an orgasm, Eddie. A fantastic fucking orgasm.” “Oh. That’s what that was? I thought you were possessed and your soul left your body.” “It damn near felt like it.”

“Let’s make it happen again.” Eddie positions himself over you, propped up on two strong arms. His hair falls into your face, the ends tickling your cheeks.

“Okay,” you giggle.

“Tell me what to do?”

You push Eddie’s hair back over his shoulders so you can get a clear view of his face. He is shining with a thin layer of sweat, lips pink, plump, and perfectly kissable. You stretch up to press your lips to his, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth. You grab his cock and line him up with your entrance. “Press your hips forward,” you whisper.

Eddie moves slowly, breaching you with a sting. He goes further, a deep sigh falling into your mouth when he bottoms out. The heavy weight of him inside of you feels monumental. Not just because he’s large and is stretching you beautifully, but because of what this means for the two of you.

His first time. The “I love you’s” that were exchanged. Your relationship with Eddie will forever be changed by what transpires today. He is kissing you eagerly despite the stillness of his hips. He is awaiting your next instruction. “Now just…” you murmur against him, “just do what feels right.”

Eddie slowly begins to— not thrust— but roll himself into you. He is fluid and precise, setting a pace that surprises you and makes you crave more. This is about him. You’ll (hopefully) have your chance to ask for it fast and rough.

“F-feels so good. Fuck. so soft and warm. Better than I imagined,” Eddie praises you, though you feel like you should be praising him. He drops his weight down on you, wrapping his arms around your back to hold you close. Your nails rake along the expanse of his back, heels digging into the bottom of his spine with each outward thrust.

Eddie kisses your collar, biting down on the spot where your clavicle meets your shoulder. You sneak your hand between your bodies and rubbed your clit, far less gracefully than Eddie had. He rears his hip back slowly before sharply slamming into you.

“Fuck, Eddie! Again!” You yelp, clawing red streaks onto his skin. Eddie does so, repeatedly thrusting into you sharply and pointedly. He slides in and out of you with ease, each thrust becoming stronger and more confident than the last. He’s kissing your neck and nibbling at your skin experimentally. He’s gentle despite the roughness happening below your hips.

The friction from his cock and your fingers on your clit is unbearable. Before you know it, another orgasm is approaching you. Your back arches off the bed, your cunt contracts around Eddie, and his name is the only word in your vocabulary. He is good, far surpassing your expectations. But you should’ve known better. When Eddie applies himself, he doesn’t do anything half-assed. It’s all or nothing. And he gives you everything. Quickly, and without warning, you feel him spill into you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry,” Eddie promptly pulls out of you, his lot and sticky load leaking out of you. Thick ropes continue to spurt out of him, landing on your belly. His cock pulses and his breathing is jagged. He sighs heavily once he’s milked everything out and falls down next to you. Your comforter is a crumpled mess, in no doubt need of a good wash before your parents come home.

Eddie searches for your hand and grips it tightly once he finds it. You flush, although it’s followed by a giggle. “You surprised me, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie props up on his elbow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your fingers graze his cheek, hot and blushed from exertion. “Are you sure that was your first time?”

Eddie turns even redder. “I’ve thought about it a lot.” “Your first time?” He draws soft swirls on your arm, reminiscent of all the times he’s done so on your ankles. He opens his mouth and then closes it. More swirls on your arm. He opens his mouth again. “Being with you.”

“Eds,” you cradle his cheek. “No more thinking about being with me. You are with me. In private, in public, at school, and when we graduate and leave this hellhole. You got that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie kisses you softly before laying back on your bed. The two of you hold hands and stare up at your ceiling.

You want to kiss and hold hands and do romantic shit with Eddie Munson for a long time.

when will it be meeeeeeeee (or us). i hope you enjoyed my first eddie fic! if you did, please like and reblog! it really helps writers out. if you like my writing, please feel free to leave requests, ideas, or prompts in my inbox. or, if you just want another friend to scream about eddie with, im your gal.

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angelicmunson · 1 year

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Employee of the Month 2: Stocking Stuffers

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader | Part One

Summary: Christmas is the season for Giving

Warnings: food mention, appearances from eddies friends, teasing, kissing, lots of fluff, meeting the family, gift exchanges, Eddie's scars, the truth about Hawkins + the upside down, love confessions, oral sex (m+f), hand jobs, squinting, cum play, first times, Protected p in v sex

word count: 13.9k

Eddie makes her breakfast the next morning, with Wayne trying to sleep on the couch in the living room, thinking he has no idea that Y/N slept over last night… it’s not like her coat and her shoes are by the door or anything.

They eat quietly in his room, they haven’t talked about what happened last night or the fact that they’re dating now… she quietly eats with a confused look on her face like she’s thinking really hard, it’s cute.

He stares at her with a smile, “what’s on your mind, princess?”

“Huh?” She looks up at him finally, wiping away any trace of what she was thinking about. “Oh, I just… I can’t believe this is real and I’m not dreaming right now like I actually slept over last night. You actually like me, that actually happened last night…”

“You’re a big girl now,” he teases first. “No, but really, I feel the same, it happened really fast.”

She nods, fighting a smile as she remembers it fondly, “but it was nice…”

“Waynes out there,” he whispers, pointing through the wall, “you can’t get all horny on me when he’s here, I have to behave.”

“Shut up,” she smacks his knee lightly. “I am not getting all horny on you I was just saying, it was fun and I would like to do it again sometime… with my boyfriend.”

“We work together again tonight, and tomorrow,” he reminds her. “And if you don’t have anything to do on Monday, you’re more than welcome to stay every night, so we can, you know…”

“You can stay with me on Sunday night?” She suggests, knowing Monday was Christmas eve and her mom wouldn’t let her miss it. Not since her dad died. “And we could spend Christmas together if you wanted? I think my mom would actually love to have you at the table too.”

He nods, “I’d love to, I think Waynes working nights but he’d be able to come to dinner before work?”

“I’ll talk to my mom about it,” she fills with glee. “You know, I wasn’t going to say anything but I’ve been working on a Christmas present for you and I’m even more excited to give it to you now.”

“Thank god,” he feels a wave of relief wash over him. “Cause I got you something too and I didn’t want it to be weird if you didn’t get me anything, I was freaking out a bit about it.”

“Really?” She can’t believe it. “You didn’t have to do that?”

“You didn’t have to get me anything either, but’cha did,” he reminds her, giving her the biggest heart eyes ever. He’s so gone for her it’s a little dramatic how much his heart aches for her when she’s right there in front of him.

She returns to her plate with a big smile, stabbing her fork into the scrambled eggs with a shake of her head and then she points it at him, “you’ve gotta stop being so cute before I jump on you again.”

He drops it there, they finish their food and he brings them all back to the kitchen carefully. The two of them get dressed again, he brings her coat and boots over to the other door by his room, not wanting to disrupt Wayne at all. He bundles up and heads out to start the van about 5 minutes before she’s ready to go, making sure it’s nice and warm when she gets inside. He holds her hand on the ride back to her place, he walks her to her door and kisses her with the promise of being back at a quarter to 8 for work.

And then he’s alone again.

The pressure of it all shows up when he’s pulling out of her neighbourhood. So he doesn’t turn back towards the trailer park, instead, he heads downtown. He pulls right up beside Steve’s Beemer at the video store and heads inside with a feeling he can’t shake off.

“Hey, stranger,” Robin lights right up, she was home for the holidays and working with her one best friend, surprised to see another already. “What are you doing up so early?”

“It’s noon?” He laughs, “but uh, I had to drop my girlfriend off at her place before work.”

“Girlfriend!?” She lights right up, “the girl you like from the grocery store, right?”

He nods, “yeah, she uh, she came over when I was sick last week and made me some soup and read to me and tucked me in and I was like, I’m so stupid she clearly likes me too so I kissed her yesterday and now she’s my girlfriend.”

“Wow,” she leans on the counter with her head in her hands, “Steve! Are you hearing this?” She calls over to him in the back room.

“What?” He pops his head out to see Eddie, “oh, hey!”

“Y/N’s his girlfriend now,” Robin points at him with a smile, more of a shit-eating grin, really. They’ve been keeping a bet on when it would happen. “You owe me 20 bucks.”

“Come on, you couldn’t have waited till after Christmas?” Steve complains, happy for him, but out $20.

He shrugs, “sorry man, she wanted me sooo bad, I couldn’t say no to her.”

“Shut up,” Steve can tell he’s exaggerating. “How did you find a girlfriend before me?”

“Charm, raw sex appeal, pure luck,” Robin uses it as an opportunity to bully Steve, “it’s not his fault you lack those things.”

“Fuck you both,” he slaps $20 on the counter and heads back towards the stock room.

“Wait, I needed to talk to you, specifically,” Eddie calls after him, following him towards the back room. “I have a question that only you would understand…”

“Okay,” Steve seems concerned but he holds the door open and lets Eddie into the staff-only room full of VHS cases. “What’s up?”

“Have you… I mean, has anyone seen— ugh this is so weird man, I’m sorry,” he leans against the table back there with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck. Okay, the scars… has anyone seen your scars, you know, when you’re… intimate with them?”

Steve nods, “yeah, I’ve been taking good care of them now so they’re not too bad and when they ask about it I just lie and say it’s road burn from a motorcycle crash and they buy it.”

“How do you take care of them?” He genuinely didn’t know there was a way.

“I learned from this one girl that bio oil helps with stretch marks and lightens them so I tried it and look,” Steve pulls his shirt up and moves his vest out of the way. The scars aren’t as red as Eddie’s, they’re almost the same fleshy pink as the rest of him. “You want some, you can have the rest of my bottle, I think this is as light as they’re getting for me.”

“If you don’t mind?” He genuinely wanted to try anything that would make them a little less visible. “I just don’t know how to explain to her why I have these.”

“Have you considered the truth?”

He shakes his head, “her dad died in the earthquake. How do I tell her we almost stopped it from happening but missed it by a few seconds and now her dad is dead?”

“We can give her someone to be mad at, tell her we killed Vecna, we made sure it’ll never happen again,” Steve knows that’s not much, but it’s something. “If you want, we can all help tell her? Nancy’s home as of tonight and staying here all week, or you know what? Bring Y/N to our Christmas party on Monday and we can tell her then… unless you want to wait till you’re more serious?”

“We’re pretty serious,” he can’t help but blush.

“Wait, you’ve fucked but she hasn’t seen you shirtless?” Steve can read Eddie’s face better than anyone. “How?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Eddie bites his lip, keeping his secrets to himself. “But we didn’t have sex, we just, you know…”

“I don’t,” Steve crosses his arms, playfully. “Explain it to me, pretend I’m an idiot—

“I don’t have to pretend.”

Steve points at him with a glare, “hey.”

“What?” Eddie laughs it off, enjoying how easy it was to bug Steve. “We kissed and did stuff, you don’t need to know anything else.”

“Fine,” Steve gives in. “I’m glad you’re happy though, man, you’re like glowing right now.”

He nods, smiling away, unable to disagree. “I can’t believe I got her… it’s fuckin’ nuts how happy she makes me.”

—

She has the house to herself until her mom gets home, which means she spends a decent amount of time in the shower without anyone telling her that she can’t. She packs a little overnight bag to bring to Eddie’s tonight, she gets all dolled up too and just in time for her mom to get home.

She’s looking in the mirror, making herself all pretty when her mom comes and stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame with a smile. “You didn’t come home last night…”

“I did not,” she turns slowly, afraid to get told off for some reason… her mom wasn’t very confrontational at all.

“Can you just tell me next time? I woke up in a bit of a panic when you weren’t in here but I figured you’d be with Eddie,” she says it without saying it. “I just want to know you’re safe.”

“I’m probably going over to his trailer again tonight, but tomorrow I want him to stay here… if that’s okay? I just figured that with Christmas coming that you’d want me here on Christmas Eve,” she explains her thinking all in one go. “Is that okay?”

She nods, “I don’t see why not. Does he have anyone to spend Christmas with?”

She shakes her head, “I’m pretty sure he’s Jewish on his uncle's side, but he said he’d like to spend Christmas with us and, his uncle works night shifts but he’d be able to come to dinner too if we have the space? He’d never turn down a good meal.”

“Yeah, I bought a big turkey last week thinking we’d have a bunch of leftovers, so it’s definitely big enough for 4,” her mom explains with a smile, happy to have guests again. “Give them the invite for me, tell them dinner is at 5:30 on Tuesday.”

“I will,” she can’t contain her excitement so she just beams a powerful smile at her. “He’s kinda my boyfriend now too…”

“Yeah?” She smiles right back, proud of her. “Well, I can’t wait to get to know him.”

“He’s really awkward at first, but he’s funny and he’s nice and just the cutest man on the planet, it’s literally not fair how cute he is,” she gets a little carried away on that.

“Yeah well, just try to behave yourself when he’s here… and be safe?” She had the talk with her in grade 6, she’s known about safe sex for years, doesn’t mean mom can’t bring it back up. “You’ve got condoms, right?”

She nods, slightly embarrassed but she knew her mom meant well. “I bought some for his stocking… that’s what I got him for Christmas, a bunch of things I thought he’d like or would make him laugh.”

“That’s cute,” she smiles, remembering how she did that for Y/N’s father. She backs up from the doorway and taps the frame lightly, “well, I’m going to make dinner, should I be expecting anyone?”

She shakes her head, “no, he’s coming to get me for work, though.”

“Sounds good.”

And then she’s gone.

It leaves her feeling a little more anxious than before. She has spent a lot of time thinking about the day she’d finally get to have sex with another person, and after last night it’s never felt realer. It’s mildly terrifying to think about. He was going to see her naked, he was going to stretch her open and slip inside of her and she was going to feel how hot and heavy he is as he fucks her and…

She has to take a deep breath and calm herself down, turned on and anxious at the same time now.

She’s so into him, she has been for so long. She's thought about him while getting off, she’s had dreams about a life with him, he’s been a constant in her fantasies and now it was going to become her reality.

—

Work is excruciatingly slow now that they’re dating.

He’s so handsy, he has to touch her every time he passes by, he kisses her cheek randomly, he comes up behind her to help her and rests his chin on her shoulder to watch what she’s doing and hold her in a weird hug around the middle. She wants to get her work done, the sooner they finish the quicker they can get out of there but he’s just happy being in her presence. He’s so happy with her.

He’s on the other side of the aisle, humming along to the songs on the speakers, shoving boxes of cereal into the shelves without a real care in the world, too caught up in the songs. “Don’t take my heart, don’t break my heart, don’t, don’t throw it away,” his voice drops to mimic the song, making her smile over at him.

He reaches back to the palette of boxes in the centre of the aisle, pretending to drum and then he points at her, “And this is my four-leaf clover! I’m on the line, one open mind, this is my…” he makes his way to her, taking her hand to dance like an old 50s couple and cradling the back of her head as he brings her closer. “Four leaf clover,” he finishes the words before he kisses her head and she settles there.

They sway along to the beat, his jaw pressed to her temple, holding her close to his heart, she feels so incredibly loved by him it was insane. She gives his hand and his side a little squeeze before pulling away with a smile, “that was nice, but stop being so cute, I have things to do.”

“Yeah, me,” he teases, letting her go.

She smacks his arm and pulls away completely, turning back to the shelf to fiddle with the boxes there, nervous to say this but she can’t stop the words from coming out, “maybe if you’re good you can have me for Christmas, you know, on top of your present…”

He leans on the shelf and crowds her space, keeping his voice down and just between them, “you know there’s no rush, right? I know I was kind of a horn-dog last night, but seriously don’t rush. I’ve waited 22 years, I can wait 22 more if I need to.”

“Well personally, I’m tired of waiting,” she presses her lips together awkwardly, admitting that to him felt embarrassing. “I would’ve done it last night if we took 5 minutes to pull apart and get undressed, honestly.”

He’s mighty surprised by that, speechlessly so.

“I’m not kidding,” she manages to laugh at how frozen he is. She pokes his cheeks a few times to bring him back and almost jumps out of her skin when he goes to bite her finger off.

He wraps her up and kisses her all over her neck and under her ear, making her laugh harder as she tries to push away from him. When she finally does pull away enough to look at him, he’s so smiley he’s blushing, “you’re everything, Y/N Y/L/N. Absolutely everything to me.”

She could melt staring into his eyes like this, she’s filled with so much love for him she could burst into a billion pieces of heart-shaped confetti… “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that to me. Too long.”

“Just wait till I feel like I’m allowed to start telling you that I love you,” he teases, letting her know he feels it, but there’s also no rush there.

Little does he know she loves him back already.

—

Back at his trailer, she’s a lot less anxious this time as she takes off her boots and hangs up their coats. Within seconds she’s, once again, all over him. Hands-on each other's cheeks, holding themselves in a heated kiss as the two of them bump into everything on the way to his bedroom.

Knocking things to the floor with a mumbled, “I’ll get that later,” from Eddie against her lips. She laughs against him, kissing his teeth as he smiles back, completely in love with her.

They tumble into his bed in a sea of laughter, he lands on her and knocks some of the wind out of her, making her laugh come out funny and then they laugh harder. He rolls off her, the two of them on their backs with their legs still dangling off the edge of the bed, cackling towards the ceiling. The room is pitch black except for the light beaming in from the hallway, causing an orange rectangle to light up his dresser and illuminates his guitar where she hangs on the wall.

His room is so dark that the old glow-in-the-dark stars still kinda work, as their laughter dies down, she can’t help but smile up at them. She reaches out to hold his hand between them and turns to him, “I haven’t laughed that hard in forever.”

“Me either,” he finally stops giggling with a sigh, unable to stop smiling either to the point that both their faces hurt.

She gets up and sits on her knees, he sits up against the headboard, he reaches over to his side table and flicks on the lamp, making the whole room glow again.

“What did you want to do tonight?” She asks, “like… make out? Watch a movie? Read?”

“All 3 sound amazing,” he reaches out for her, guiding her right back into his lap like she belongs there forever now. It’s her seat. “You pick, I’m just—

“Just happy to be with you,” she rolls her eyes playfully.

“I am!” He tickles her sides, making her grab his wrists while squealing, trying to pull him away but he’s too strong for her.

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” she gives in, wanting to be able to breathe again.

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her in close, her chest heaves as she tries to settle in her own skin again. She wasn’t really that ticklish, it was the way his fingers dug into her sides that got her all squeamish. He kisses her neck again, just under her ear, “this is all I’ve wanted for years…”

“Me too,” she settles against him, arms resting on his shoulders once more, she runs her fingers through his hair. “I have wanted this with you since I was a freshman, so like since I was 14… I saw you in the cafeteria with your curly hair and your charming smile and I’ve been hooked ever since.”

“Why didn’t you come talk to me?” he begs for the past to change.

She shrugs and pulls away, sitting up in his lap she drags her hands down his chest and plays with his shirt slightly, “didn’t think we had much to talk about, I just liked to look at you.”

“Look at us now,” he places his hand under her chin to bring her eyes back to his. “We can’t stop talking to each other.”

“Or touching each other,” she smirks. “I think this was how it was supposed to work out though, we have a lot more in common now.”

“The grocery store, being virgins…” he teases, counting on his fingers but not finding many things.

“Dead dads,” she bites her lip, knowing that was a dark joke but it felt a little too dark. But he laughs. Thank god he laughs.

“Okay so 3 things,” he teases.

“And I know you love to sing and you like metal and rock music and you play dungeons and dragons and have a band, but I don’t know about Wayne until last week and I don’t know your middle name or anything personal really,” she worries. “What if we get to know each other and it doesn’t work out?”

“What if we find new things to love together and have the best relationship that’s ever happened on earth?” He proposes the opposite of her worry, “what if we could be the happiest people on earth together?”

“I’d like to try that,” she muses, brushing his hair off his face, she leans in for a sweet kiss on the lips.

“I’ve gotta tell you some things first before you decide if you want me,” he whispers against her lips. “I’m sure you’ve got questions about everything that happened here.”

“It didn’t happen here, this is a new trailer, right?” She worries. It’s not like she believes in ghosts or anything but the idea of Chrissy Cunningham's spirit lingering made all the hair on her body stands up.

“Yeah it’s new, but, I mean, the truth about if I did it or not,” he explains with a sigh. “I didn’t, I think you know that or else you wouldn’t talk to me…”

“I never thought you did it,” she assures him, petting his hair gently, soothing him as he talks. He stares back at her with sad doe eyes, “really, I mean it. I knew you’d never be able to hurt anyone.”

“I want to tell you everything, but I don’t know it all from the beginning,” he admits. “Steve offered to help me explain it to you, they’re going to have a little Christmas thing Monday night that we’re invited to, and Nancy can probably explain it all the best.”

“Like, Harrington and Wheeler?” She’s surprised he still talks to them of all people in Hawkins. “Since when do you know them?”

“Since they tracked me down and told me they knew what really killed Chrissy, and it was the same thing that killed Barbra Holland and took Will Byers in ’83,” he explains slightly. “The lab in town made a monster and a superhero and their battle ripped the town in half.”

“So it was all connected,” she thought so, the murders were way too close to the earthquake. And as much as she didn’t want to believe the bible thumpers, it made sense that it was a series of sacrifices that caused the earth to fall inward towards hell.

Still, it wasn’t eddies fault.

He nods, “and worst of all, there’s this alternate version of Hawkins called the upside down thats like all grey and creepy and full of monsters… and I was down there for a few days. With Steve and Nancy, and Robin… and poor Dustin. I uh, I’ve gotta show you something, so you’re going to have to get off of me for a sec.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” she’s anxious to know what happened, she backs right off of him and sits on his bed with her legs crossed, watching him get up and stand.

He turns to face the bed, reaching for the hem of his shirt with a sigh, “I knew they needed more time to kill Vecna, I knew something was wrong and the whole system down there is like a hive-mind— if I hurt something attached to him, then it would give the other team some advantage… so I took off running, I got the attention of these bat things and I was going to fight them. Like an idiot.”

She covers her mouth with both her hands, scared to hear what happened to him and terrified that this is actually real. Monsters are real. And in Hawkins.

He pulls up his shirt slowly at first and then all at once, he pulls it off and tosses it to the floor without even looking at her. He can’t. She gasps, reaching out to touch it but she doesn’t, her fingers just hover, “oh my god, Eddie…”

“They kinda got me instead,” he gestures down. “It was bad… I almost died.”

She finally touches the deep pink skin on the side of his belly button. The scar tissue is velvety smooth but she can feel all the bumps and dimples of missing flesh that would never regenerate right. He’s missing his nipple, a huge chunk of his breast around to his back and there are about 4 other decent-sized patches of missing skin across his broad chest. He’s sucking in a sharp breath as she explores, letting her touch even though she’s so cold compared to him, it’s excruciating.

“Your fingers are like fuckin ice,” he finally takes both her hands in his and brings them up to his mouth to blow hot air into her palms.

“Sorry,” she manages to give him a small smile. “How bad did it hurt?”

“When it happened or after?”

“God,” she grimaces at the idea of either, taking both her hands back and placing them on his bare shoulders. “Do I even want to know?”

“I was full of adrenaline when it was happening so I don’t fully remember it all, I passed out pretty quick… and the morphine at the hospital was superb,” he’s able to joke, kissing his fingers like a chef would. “I still get these sharp shooting pains, like phantom bites, so if I ever twitch or jolt under you at night thats why.”

“Okay,” she pulls him closer to the edge of the bed and softly kisses the scar on his neck, it’s big enough to require two kisses to get it all.

Trailing her hands down his arms, she leans down and covers the next scar in kisses, then the one on the middle of his chest. Right over his heart which he hopes she can’t feel beating faster than ever before. She cups his sides, gently rubbing her thumb over the scar under his breast, she kisses where the nipple should be and the other surface area of the scar.

“I hope you know I think you’re handsome and very brave,” she mumbles against his skin, on her way to kiss the mark above his belly button.

He cradles her head in his hands, tilting her head up to look at him, “I love you.”

She straightens right up, almost at eye level with him, full of awe, “really?”

His eyes are full of tears, he’s never felt so loved in his life before. He nods softly, “thank you… you don’t know how much it means to me that you’re okay with all this.”

“I love you, too,” she cups his face in her hands. “So, so much.”

“Yeah?” He wraps his arms around her waist, holding her flush against himself. She nods, “yeah,” she responds with a cheeky smile. “Alright then,” he picks her up and tackles her right into the bed, kissing all over her face as soon as her head hits the pillow.

She’s a giggling mess, like always, she brushes his hair off his face as he hovers over her. She pulls him down for a kiss, breathing him in deeply, she wraps her legs around him and traps him there. He kisses her again and again, and again, breaking away to kiss her neck and shoulder, over her shirt.

“You can take it off,” she assures, reaching for the hem she leans forward, he pulls back and helps her pull the shirt off completely, leaving her under him in her bra.

“Wow,” he’s taken aback by the view before him, he lightly trails his hand from her shoulder down her arm, over her tummy and then up to cup her bra. His thumb glides over the cup, feeling her nipple harden behind the padding. He licks his lips, “you’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“So are you,” she whispers up at him. With a hand at the back of his neck, she pulls him back in for another kiss.

He can’t help but smile against her lips, he steals a few more kisses and pulls away, he hovers over her and cups her face in his hands, “do you want to go a little further tonight?”

She nods, “yeah… anything on your mind?”

“Can I try and eat you out?” He asks, “I want to feel you cum on my tongue this time…”

“Please?” She melts under him, eyes almost rolling into the back of her head at the mere thought of him doing that… “oh, I want you so bad, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, slithering down between her legs and playing with the hem of her pants. “Lift, princess.”

She does just as she’s told, and he takes her pants off first. He traces his fingers down the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs apart to display the wet patch on her cute little panties. He leans in for what she expects to be a kiss over the fabric, but instead, he presses his nose against the damp patch and breathes her in with a groan before dragging his tongue over it. “You have no idea how fucking hot you are, do you?”

“Show me?” She begs, lifting her hips again, giving him permission to peel her panties off. He slips them down her legs and off completely, he grips them in his hands and brings them to his face again, taking one last sniff before he tosses them to the floor.

She spread her legs automatically, over-eager for him to please her and not at all scared of him seeing her naked… she had a feeling no matter what she thought of herself, he was going to love and admire her pussy beyond any expectation she could have.

His shoulders drop and all the air leaves his lungs when he finally sees her, beautiful and wet and on display just for him. “Sweet Jesus…”

Without skipping a beat he flattens his tongue against her spread pussy and laps up all the evidence of just how horny he makes her. It's better than anything she has ever imagined, he sucks at her clit in just the most perfect way before flicking it back and forth with his tongue.

He runs his pointer finger over her hole, circling it gently before slipping the digit inside, pumping in and out of her as he keeps repeating the same movements on her clit. The backs of her knees start to sweat and that all too familiar heat starts to bubble in her gut and spread throughout her body, making her feel like she’s floating.

“Add a second and curl it up, fuck,” she had to take a breather as he listened, pumping into her without a single issue as he found her g spot.

“Oh, right there, Eddie, baby,” she runs her fingers through his hair and grips it tightly, her back arches with a moan, he feels so good everywhere.

His breath is hot against her clit as he takes a moment to smile up at her, proud of himself, “tell me when you’re close, pretty girl, I wanna watch it happen.”

“Okay, fuck,” she moans, pushing his face back into her cunt.

Her free hand comes up to grip her own breast, playing with the nipple between her two fingers for just a little bit more pleasure. Her legs start to tremble, “right there, oh my god, oh my god?”

His big brown eyes flick up to her, he flicks at her clit with his tongue and fucks into her with his fingers, again and again, watching her orgasm build and wash over her in a wave. She trembles, back arching, he has to hold her hips down with both hands but thats fine, he replaces his fingers with his tongue. The wet heat of his tongue inside her and his nose nudging against her clit still as she rides out her orgasm, push her into overstimulation.

“Fuck, fuck, Eddie,” she scrambles to push him away, but he holds her there, tongue fucking her deeply to ensure he gets all her cum.

He licks her clean and pulls away with a smile, face glistening, lips swollen, “good?”

“Fuck yeah,” she reaches forward as she sits up, pulling him in to straddle her hips so she can reach his bet buckle.

“What are you doing?” He asks, curious but his eyes look more cautious.

“It’s your turn?” She hesitates, making sure she’s not going to far. “Can I jerk you off?”

He laughs, shocked that she’d want to so badly, “yeah, yeah, absolutely.”

She tugs his jeans down as far as she can get them, and they stop mid-thigh, exposing his hard cock in his boxers. She runs her hand over the bulge, making him hiss, no one’s touched him before either. She felt unbelievably lucky to be the first person to ever peel back Eddie Munson's boxers and take his thick cock in their hands.

“Wow,” she says, breathless as she strokes her hand from base to tip, using her thumb to trail along the vein under his cock. She strokes him gently with one hand, still balancing on her other forearm, it’s slightly uncomfortable.

He can tell she rather be using both hands, “sit up,” he instructs. He helps her up against the pillows better and gets off her so he can slip out of his jeans.

He re-straddles her hips, and she trails her hands over his thighs, scratching her nails over his bare hips while his cock twitches there in front of her. She grips his cock at the base and slips down the pillows a bit, now at the perfect level to take him in her mouth.

She runs her tongue along the underside of his cock, she can feel the vein working overtime, he’s so fucking hard for her. She takes the head in her mouth, teasing the tip with her tongue, and she strokes the rest of him. His hands are in her hair, his eyes are closed, and his thighs tremble as he tries to keep himself upwards but she feels too good.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns her, letting her pull away if she wanted to.

She pops off his cock with a smile, jerking him off a bit faster with ease from the added saliva. He moans, he sounds so fucking beautiful, his hips sputter and his cock twitches again and again as he releases all over her neck and chest.

“Oh, fuck,” he shutters, his cum is so hot on her skin, leaking down her chest and between her boobs, he watches the whole thing, stunned and fucked out at the same time.

She giggles amazed that he could get so lost in her touch and cum like that, it was hot and amazing and filled her with pride. She did that.

He crawls off of her, reaching for tissues on his nightstand to clean her up before he ruined her bra. “Sorry, I’m just gonna,” he says as he parts her boobs and wipes the cum off. “God, sorry there’s so much.”

“It’s fine,” she continues to laugh, “You’re so hot when you cum.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, “I would like to live between your thighs, babe.”

“Thats fine by me,” she sighs as she rests back against the pillows. “I can’t believe I waited so long to experience that.”

He tosses out the tissue once she’s clean and climbs into bed beside her, she cuddles into his chest and kisses the side of his neck. “I still love you…”

“I love you more,” he says it to one-up her, but also because he loves her more now than the last time he said it. He had a feeling it would keep doubling as the moments with her went on. His love for her was going to be never-ending.

—

They wake up in the afternoon, they have lunch together in town and when she gets back to his trailer, she talks to Wayne about Christmas because Eddie had somehow forgotten by the time he got back from her place on Saturday…

“Now, you’re sure your mom is okay with the two of us intruding?” He asks again, “this isn’t just you two wanting us to bond right, she knows you’re asking me over?”

“Yes Wayne,” she places her hand on his arm with a smile. “She’s very excited to have a full house for Christmas again.”

“Is there anything I need to bring? Should I get her a gift as a thank you?” Wayne asks, just as giving and considerate as his nephew.

“No, just come with room for a big supper, she’s making a huge turkey,” Y/N teases. “But you know, she’d never turn down a bottle of wine…”

“Noted,” Wayne nods in agreement, “it’s the least I can do as a thank you, I haven’t had a homemade Christmas dinner in years.”

Something in the conversation also reminds Eddie that he has to wrap his friend's gifts for their party the next night.

“Do you know how to wrap things nicely?” He ponders aloud, making Wayne smile at him, he knew that was his way of asking for help.

“Yeah, what do you need help with?” She asks, following him back to his room ready to help.

He makes her close her eyes while he digs all the presents out of his closet and makes sure none of the ones he got for her are in the pile. He places them all on the bed along with some wrapping paper and tape, and finally says she can open her eyes again.

There are so many things in front of her, he’s been collecting gifts for a while clearly. And clearest of all, he loved his friends more than she could ever imagine.

“Wow, okay, what first?”

“Well,” he starts to arrange things into piles, “these are for Dustin, that’s for Gareth, Jeff and Kev. These are for Steve and this one is for Robin and…” he goes on with more names that she remembered from school and some she had never heard of like Erika and Eleven.

“And this one is for Wayne,” Eddie whispers so he doesn’t hear from the other room. He got Wayne yet another mug with a bag of specialty coffee and some nice biscotti to have with it.

“So we’ll do his first, get it out of the way,” she says as she unrolls the wrapping paper and tries to figure out the nicest way to wrap the 3 items.

“Can I ask why you got each thing?” She asks, carefully slipping the package of coffee grounds into the mug.

“I got Dustin this shirt,” he unfolds it and shows it to her, the shirt reads: “choose your weapon wisely” with a row of differently shaped dice over the letters. “And some dice,” he shakes the box in the pile and then places it on top of the shirt. “He’s the current dungeon master in their school club and when he graduates Erika will be taking over so I got her the newest edition of the dungeon masters book.”

“Oh, thats so cute,” she swoons.

“Then I got the guys in the band some new branded shirts and picks, I had them made by a company over in Shelbyville, they’re so cool,” he takes a pick out and shows it to her. The black was matte, the CC in the middle was glossy, and it popped so well. “They’re going to love them.”

He explains that he got Nancy a journal because she’s going to school for journalism so she must need one. It’s a nice deep red and he’s written her a sweet little note on the first page. Robins gift is a set of rings from Claires that he said screamed her name when he first saw them. Steve gets some fuzzy dice for his car's rearview mirror because no matter how hard they try to get him to play d&d, he’s not interested but he still needs some lucky dice.

He got Lucas a keychain with his basketball number on it. Max got some cool stickers for her skateboard. Mike got a lighter because unfortunately, his tendency to copy Eddie has gone all the way to smoking. He got Will a colouring book and his sister El, a fantasy graphic novel.

It’s a lot of things, but he holds a lot of love for these people in his heart.

She can’t wait to see what he got for her if this is the level of care he put into his friend's gifts.

—

She brings him home after a shift that feels more like 16 hours instead of just 4. By the time she’s tumbling into bed, it’s almost 1 in the morning and she’s ready to crash and sleep for the next 2 days straight. This weekend has been too exciting for her body clock to handle.

Eddie looks around her room curiously, she’s quick to step out of her clothes and climb right into bed in just her bra and underwear. She lays there against the pillows with her eyes closed, under her covers, “I’m exhausted.”

“Awe,” he comes and sits down on the edge of her side of the bed. “So I guess no fun stuff tonight, princess?”

“I mean,” she opens her eyes and leans forward. “I wouldn’t say no to an orgasm before bed… I’m starting to get used to them.”

“I was kidding,” he’s genuinely shocked that she’s down for it. “Your mom is home? Really?”

“I was also kidding,” she laughs at how eager he got, “I think one night of not having our hands all over each other will make tomorrow better…”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Well technically right now it’s Christmas eve, it’s past midnight, so tomorrow is Christmas,” she reminds him. “I wanted to go all the way… I was thinking maybe after the party at your friends house? Before we come back here?”

“You want to meet my friends knowing we’re going to have sex after?” He teases.

She nods, “yeah, cause when else can we do it? My mom has traditions: after dinner, we have to watch the Charlie Brown Christmas movie and have hot chocolate and dessert, and then she’s going to go to bed, and I don’t think I can do that with her down the hall and us leaving just makes it obvious…”

“If you’re this anxious about it we don’t have to do it yet.”

“I’m ready for it, I just know that when my parents had sex here before the house kinda shakes, it’s old, she’s going to know every time we do it and I don’t want her to,” she explains. “It’s so awkward knowing when your parents are fucking, I can’t imagine how she’d feel knowing I’m having sex.”

“God,” he can’t even imagine the horror. “Wayne only ever had one girl over, years ago, and I only know cause she was loud.”

“So Waynes good in bed too,” she teases, watching him get visibly jealous. “I’m kidding, I only have eyes for you, big guy,” she assures him, reaching out to pull him in for a hug.

“Good,” he holds her there, running his hand over her back gently, “scoot over, I’m getting in.”

“Okay,” she does just that, tossing the covers back so he can get out of his clothes and slip right in and share the warmth.

They get all cozy, cuddled together with him as the big spoon, “I’m getting way too used to going to sleep with you.” He wraps his arm around her middle, resting his hand on her tummy, she places her hand over it and interlocks their fingers.

“I know,” she feels the same way. “It’s not like we have to stop at any time soon… I have no problem going back and forth every night so I can still see my mom often.”

“I don’t mind that either,” he agrees. “Even if I stay here some weekdays cause you have school and you just stay with me after work?”

“Yeah, I like that too,” she agrees. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be working with you, though. I was just supposed to get holiday hours, they said they’d probably cut me come mid-January.”

“Oh,” he sounds really sad. “Well I can talk to Jerry and Linda, you’re a lot better than anyone else I’ve worked with, if you want some hours a week I’ll advocate for you.”

“Thank you,” she gives his hand a good squeeze and then let's go, she rolls over to face him, missing his sweet face. “I love you, you know that?”

He nods, “I do, funnily enough… and I’m so fucking lucky that you do.”

“I feel pretty lucky too,” she assures him. “I used to lay here after a terrible day and dream of scenarios where you’d come and talk to me at school… and now you’re actually here beside me. I don’t have to dream anymore.”

“You know,” he starts before he can really think it over. He knew she was emotional, but he says it anyway. “There was a part when I was dying, I thought it was okay cause it’s not like anyone loved me anyway,” he admits with matching teary eyes. “I’m so glad I didn’t listen to that voice.”

She cups his face and pulls him into a kiss, she smothers his face in kisses, “I love you, so, so much,” she says between each one. She pulls away with a teary smile, “I’m going to have to kiss Nancy Wheeler as a thank you for keeping you alive for me, what else can I do that says thanks for not letting my soulmate die in a creepy hell dimension?”

He laughs, “I mean, her girlfriend might get upset but you can try…”

“She has a girlfriend? That’s so cool, I had no idea what she was up to now that we’ve graduated,” she explains, not one for keeping up with everyone in her graduating class.

Eddie spends a few minutes explaining the very interesting dynamic of his friend group to her. How Robin and Steve are basically attached at the hip, which is ironic seeing as Steve dated Nancy first and now Robin in… and together, robin and Steve are like parents to the younger group consisting of Nancy’s little brother Mike, the missing kid Will Byers and his step sister Elle. Billy Hargrove's little sister Max and her boyfriend Lucas as well as his little sister Erika. And finally, Dustin. The main glue of the friend group, he was everyone's favourite, he had everyone's back, he was the little brother Eddie always wanted, it’s sweet how everyone loves him.

She’s excited to meet him later.

—

Her mom makes them breakfast, they all sit together and it’s surprisingly easy for him to talk to her. They’re a lot alike, he can tell they’ve spent a lot of time together over the years. He can also tell she really misses her husband, Eddie can’t help but feel like he played a part in taking him away, so he offers his services to her.

“Y/N was saying that you’ve been having a hard time getting to all the repairs and I was wondering if I could help? Me and my friends could get the siding done in the spring and—

“Eddie, it’s okay,” she cuts him off. “Really, it’ll get done when it gets done.”

“I want to help,” he assures her. “It's the least I can do, I have a feeling I’m going to be over a lot.”

“A lot,” Y/N echoes, nodding along. “If he wants to help then let him, mom, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Okay, but I’m going to find a way to make it up to you,” she assures them both.

“I’ll do it for a sandwich and a hug?” He suggests, sticking his hand out to make a deal.

She takes it gladly, “I’ll throw in a pack of beer when you’re done, Y/N’s dad always did that for his buddies that helped us out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees happily.

He heads back to the trailer around noon to change and grab his presents for the party that night, and to talk to Wayne. He hasn’t had a chance to really catch up with him in the last few days. And they had a lot to talk about.

He brings him up to speed on his new relationship and the Christmas details, asking if Wayne wants his present now or at Y/N’s house the next day, he picks the latter.

“I want to open it on Christmas, it’ll be weird not doing it here but oh well,” he shrugs. “I always knew one day you’d get a partner and we’d end up doing a big Christmas or Hanukkah somewhere with your little family, it just feels like it happened a lot sooner than I expected.”

“I’m 22?”

“I know, but you’re still my little buddy,” Wayne reminds him. “You’ll always be the little boy I raised and love, no matter how big you get.”

He wraps Wayne up in a big hug, “I love you so much, old man, you know that?”

Wayne gives him a big smooch on the cheek and holds him tight, “I know. I love you too, squirt.”

He pats his back a few times before letting go of the hug, the two men pull away awkwardly, never really being touchy with each other. The last time they really hugged that much was when he was in the hospital, Wayne didn’t let go of his hand for about a week. He didn’t leave his side, he spoon-fed him, and he was a wreck until Eddie got better. He thought they had a strong bond before all hell broke loose, it was unbreakable now.

Eddie heads back into his room after that, and he spends some time making it look and smell nice. He sets out her present on the bed, wanting to give it to her right after midnight and right before the main present. He was both excited and nervous, he loves her so much he wants to make it good and fun for her while also making it memorable and special for them both.

Wayne heads to work, and Eddie has dinner with Y/N and her mom which is absolutely delicious and only makes him more excited for dinner tomorrow.

—

Y/N gets all dressed up even though he told her it wasn’t a big party, she made a chip dip and got Nancy a bottle of wine as a thank-you for hosting, she was really trying to win them over.

He holds her hand on the drive over, making sure she’s not too nervous. “Trust me, they’re all super weird and they’re going to do everything in their power to impress you, you won’t have to try hard. They love having new members join.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive… and I’ve been talking about you to Steve and Dustin for the last month, and so of course Robin also knew I liked you cause Steve can’t keep anything to himself. They will literally malfunction if one knows more than the other, it’s like their brains share a hard drive,” Eddie shakes his head with a loving smile.

He loved his friends. More than he could ever explain.

“I know for a fact they’re excited to meet you and they will love you,” he assures her with a squeeze of her hand.

“Okay,” she takes a deep breath and believes him.

“You ready? Cause we’re here,” he says as he parks outside a very large house all decorated with wreaths and lights for the holiday season. There’s a bunch of cars parked in the driveway, so they have to park on the street.

He gets out first, rushing to her side to help her out and then grabbing all their things from the back of the van. She carries the dip, and he carries in all the presents, all the way to the front door where Steve Harrington opens the door before they can even knock.

“Come in, come in,” he ushers them inside and out from the cold.

He can tell it’s really weird for her to be reacquainted with Steve, Robin and Nancy, they never really interacted much in high school but they all knew of each other. It takes about 15 minutes of knowing them and hearing weird inside jokes that she doesn’t understand for Dustin to start the retelling.

He and Nancy argue about the order of events, having led two very different sides of the same battle against the upside down.

Eventually, however, she gets it.

She eats about a whole bowl of chips as she listens, completely engrossed in the lore of Hawkins that no one except their friend group knew of. It was terrifyingly amazing, she loved the fact it brought them all together, but she hated how traumatized it left them all.

“Can I just say thank you,” she reached out for Nancy’s hand, just beside her on the couch. “Eddie’s always meant a lot to me, and I don’t think I would have him if it wasn’t for you.” She turns to the rest of the room too, all smiling because they knew Eddie found the love of his life. “I’m really grateful to all of you for making sure he got off the hook for Chrissy’s murder and everything.”

“It was nothing,” Robin, waves it off, not wanting to get too emotional. “We’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

—

He slips away to talk to Nancy in the kitchen, she’s quietly cleaning up the mess so her mom isn’t mad in the morning. Wrapping cling-film over a few dips, she’s not paying attention when he walks into the room.

“Hey, Nance?” He whispers.

“Oh, hey,” she slightly jumps but settles easily. “What’s up, did you need something?”

“Yeah… uh, I kinda have a super personal question to ask, and you can totally tell me to fuck off if it’s too personal—

“I gave you CPR, there’s nothing too personal between us anymore,” she cuts him off, always teasing him about having to kiss his nasty blood-filled mouth to bring him back to life. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves her off and then takes a deep breath. “Um, I know you’ve been with guys before and I was just wondering if there was something you wish was different about your first time? You know, to make it better or easier?”

“Well,” she crosses her arms with a surprised yet pleased smile. She leans against the counter and thinks about it for a second, “I mean, Steve was really gentile but it still hurt a lot, I guess I wish I had explored with myself a bit beforehand cause I think if I knew what I liked it would’ve been more fun.”

“We’ve done other stuff together,” he shares, only slightly embarrassed. “I just know on my end I want it to be special for me, it’s my first time too and if I feel this nervous about it being perfect then she must too, and the last thing I want is to hurt her or make it not memorable or fun.”

“You’re you,” Nancy laughs. “Seriously, you’re so charismatic and loud and dramatic and—

“I get it, I’m a lot,” he stops her before she accidentally bullies him.

“But a good ‘a lot’. I just mean, she loves you for a reason, whatever happens, she’s going to have a lot of fun with you,” Nancy explains more articulately. “I know it.”

“Thanks,” he can’t help but smile. “You need any help in here?”

She shakes her head, “no, you go be with your girl, I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

And so he listens, he heads downstairs to see Steve and Dustin still talking Y/N’s ear off. He comes and stands behind her, chin on her shoulder and wraps his arms around her. She tilts her head to the side to rest against his, hands on his big arms as she holds him close.

—

They leave the party shortly after that, she tells them all about her mom's big Christmas breakfast plans and how they need to be up by 8am and Eddie’s friends let them go. She had a genuinely wonderful time with them, they’re friendly and sweet and absolutely hilarious. They love her Eddie, he loves them, and she can see herself fitting in quite well with them.

The clock on his dashboard reads 9:56. She told her mom not to wait up because she’d be home after midnight. They had 2 hours until then. Part of her wants their night to be long and drawn out and hot but she knows they have to get up and get dressed again just to go back to her childhood bedroom.

The stocking she got for Eddie is large enough that all the things she got for him fit inside without much fuss but some of the comic books stick out of the top. She put it inside a grocery bag and then in the back of his van earlier that night, she hopes he hasn’t looked inside or seen anything through the plastic. She really can’t wait to give it to him.

Actually, she can’t wait to give everything to him.

They pull up to said trailer all while she’s been in her own head, in a haze of sorts. He’s about to open her door when she takes a deep breath and says her over-prepared speech, “you go unlock the door, I don’t want you to see the present yet.”

“Okay,” he backs up with a sweet smile, “meet me in my room?”

She nods, “I’ll see you there in a minute.”

She waits for him to be up at the door, focusing on his key in the lock and unable to watch her open the back door of the van and take out his present. She insures that it’s all together and holds it close to her chest on the walk up to the door.

Once inside, she slips out of her shoes and trades the stocking back and forth in her hands as she takes her coat off too. “Can I come in?” She asks at his door, not looking in case he wasn’t ready.

“Yep,” he sounds like he’s smiling.

Once she steps into his room she can see his ever-glowing smirk as he stands on the opposite side of his room. He’s also holding a stocking, only his is decorated to the nines with glitter glue and little accents.

“Oh my god!?”

“No fuckin way?” He says at the exact same time.

They didn’t plan this in the slightest. Neither one knew the other even had a present until just the other day and she’s been collecting things to gift him for a while now.

They quickly make their way to each other, meeting at the foot of his bed and both taking a seat. Criss cross apple sauce facing each other, “I just thought ‘what would Eddie like?’ And it was a bunch of little things so,” She hands him the stocking.

“That’s what I was thinking for you, too,” Eddie can’t help but smile.

She takes the stocking from him, admiring how he decorated it to say her name in purple glitter glue. He drew out some trees, what looked like a can of Campbell's soup and a bunch of hearts… it’s so cute she could cry.

“Do you want to go one at a time?” He asks?

She looks back up at him with a tearful smile, “Yeah, you first.”

“Okay,” he’s more than happy to start pulling things out of his stocking.

One by one, he takes each thing out. First, he takes out the fantasy magazines and comic books and gives his thanks as he flips through the pages. “What made you pick batman and wolverine for me?”

She shrugs, “I spent a lot of time at the comic book store trying to pick what was the best and I thought the art looked cool, I thought you’d like it the best.”

“Thank you, I love them,” he places them down on the bed and takes out the next few items.

Kitkats, skittles, twix, and all sorts of candy. There’s a pack of cigarettes cause she knows he still smokes, he just doesn’t smoke as much around her. She got him a package of hair ties cause he always has one on his wrist that looks a little stretched out and worn down. A pack of chapstick because his lips always looked so soft he must love chapstick. There’s a handful of lighters that have funny saying on them like “flick your bic” which she thought he’d laugh at. And finally, at the bottom of the stocking, there’s a box of condoms.

“Oh, okay,” he can’t help but smirk as he reads over the box. “You pick these out more for me or you?”

“Both of us,” she shyly admits. “It’s not weird right?”

He shakes his head, “no, honestly it’s amazing cause I only got us a pack of 2 the other day…”

“Well, now we have 12,” she bites back a smile.

“Thank you, baby,” he smiles too, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Your turn.”

“Okay,” she is more nervous to open her own gift than she was watching him react to his.

The first thing she pulls out is an agenda with 1989 embossed on the dark blue cover. “Oh my god?” She can’t believe it as she flips through the beautiful pages with elegant presets ready to help her plan the next year out.

“I figured with school and work and next year you have to do a placement that you’d need an agenda,” Eddie explains. “And I took the liberty of adding my name and number in the address book and my birthday is in there too…”

“It’s next month,” she already knew when his birthday was. “6-year crush, remember, I know a lot more than you think.”

“Sorry, forgot you were an Ed-xpert,” he teases, hands up in surrender.

She does give him a laugh, cause that was stupid and funny and he’s just too cute not to laugh. She shakes her head fondly, “that was a good one…”

“Thanks,” he’s smug now.

“Your friends would get in trouble every year for sticking candles in whatever the lunch order was on your birthday and they didn’t care, they always lit the candles anyway,” she remembers fondly. “It was cute, you always had little celebrations for everyone in hellfire.”

“We’re a family,” he shrugs. “It’s what families do.”

“It’s cute, and I love this, thank you,” she thanked him, and places the agenda down on the bed, starting her own pile of things.

He got her some gel pens to write in her agenda, as well as a bunch of stickers to decorate it. There’s candy and fuzzy socks with cute patterns on them, he also got her some chapstick and some nail polish in purple and red. Yet her favourite item in the whole stocking is a cute pair of gloves.

“Cause your fingies get cold in the van, I need to get a new heater,” he explains. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

“I love you,” she holds the gloves to her chest, feeling so overwhelmed with emotion. A simple pair of gloves in her favourite colour, they match her coat and her purse, that’s why he got them, and they’re perfect. “Eddie baby, this is the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

He gets up and stands at the foot of the bed, extending a hand to pull her up onto her knees at the end of the bed. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his chest as he looks down into her eyes, “I love you, merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, tilting her head to the side with a lick of her lips, “it's finally main present time, isn’t it?”

He nods seductively slow, “that it is…”

“The bed is a mess,” she whispers, reminding him with a cheeky smile. “We can’t have sex on a bunch of candy and magazines.”

“I mean we could, it wouldn’t be comfortable,” he teases, dragging his hands down her back to cup her ass. “And the chocolate would melt… but we could.”

“No,” she shakes her head with a smile. “Come on,” she pulls back and returns her attention to their presents. She starts to shove everything into her own while Eddie simply takes the box of condoms out of his pile and opens it up.

He holds up the long strip of condoms with a smile, “think we could go through all of these tonight?”

She laughs, “no, we have to save enough energy to go back to my mom's house, remember? If we’re not there Christmas morning she’s going to kill me.”

“Right,” he rips the first condom off and tosses it onto the bed and puts the rest of them on his nightside table.

He puts the rest of his presents on his dresser and while he’s over there, he takes off his shirt and tosses it towards his dirty laundry pile. She watches contently, he’s too pretty for his own good. “Sorry, did you want to do that part?”

“Undress you? No, it’s fine,” she shakes her head and meets him by his dresser, she places her own stocking there for safekeeping and wraps herself back around him. Hands-on his bare shoulders this time, she drags them down his chest and stops at his belt. “But I can continue…”

“Please,” he begs, breathless as he stares down at her, overwhelmed with how much he wants her.

She runs one hand back up his chest, over his tummy, his pecks and she stops at his neck. Cupping the nape of his neck she leans in and presses a kiss to his pulse point. With her other hand she unbuckles his belt and pops the button on his jeans, she snakes her hand inside his pants and palms over his boxers, stroking the outline of his cock and feeling him harden in her hands.

His grip on her hips tightens, he balls the fabric of her dress into his fists and tugs it up to cup her ass through her nylons as she keeps kissing his neck and stroking his cock.

He picks her up in one go, she wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck for support. He walks her over to the bed and tosses her down onto the mattress once more. Reaching for his own belt, he pulls it through the loops and tosses it towards the floor, “how’d you wanna do this?”

“Could you, maybe… um,” she goes sky, watching him push his jeans to the floor and step out of them.

“Yeah, princess?”

“Could you eat me out again?” She whispers up at him.

He smirks, placing his hands on her knees and tracing his fingers down the inside of her thighs until he reaches her hips. He grips her tight and pulls her to the edge of the bed and drops to his knees, “I’d love to.”

He starts to pull down her nylons and he can tell she’s nervous again, “I shaved the other day so I’m going to be a bit stubbly…”

“I don’t mind, baby,” he assures her.

She grips her dress at the hem and pulls it up and over her head, thanking god it was stretchy and didn’t have a zipper to trap her inside of it. One leg at a time he takes her nylons off, smoothing his hands over her legs and then he brings his cheek to her knee. He drags his face along her skin, kissing the hem of her panties and then right where her clit should be.

“Did you wear these panties on purpose?”

“They’re my only black pair,” she explains, black was a sexy colour, so of course, she wore them for this.

“The bow is cute, you’re like another present I get to unwrap,” he teases, running his finger over the little bow at the front of her panties.

“I guess it is,” she can’t help but smile.

He loops his fingers under the band and she lifts her hips knowingly, helping him slip them off of her and onto the floor.

She props herself up on her forearms, watching with her bottom lip sucked between her teeth. He wraps his arms around her thighs, holding them open as he inches closer to her wet pussy. He kisses the little freckle she has on her underwear line, his breath is hot against her skin as he runs his tongue over her pussy lip ever so slowly.

Using his right hand he runs his index finger from her clit to her glistening entrance, he gathers up all her slick and rubs it into her clit with his forefingers. “I want you to cum at least once for me before I fuck you, then you’ll be nice and relaxed and it won’t hurt as much.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” she’s sure of herself, sharing a bit too much because she was so comfortable with him. “I usually use three fingers when I’m alone, I think I can take it.”

He groans, “god, you’re so fucking hot.”

With only one arm holding her legs down he’s not as strong, she clamps her legs closed at the sensation of his tongue lapping over her aching clit, “be a good girl and keep these open for me, kay?”

She nods, breath hitching at the sound of good girl…

“You liked that,” he smirks. “I can tell by the way your cunt fluttered, ooo, there you did it again.”

She’s aching for more, feeling her heartbeat in her clit 10 times stronger than ever before, she needed him desperately, “please, Eddie?”

“Since you asked so nicely, baby,” he muses, voice vibrating against her core as he leans in impossibly close and licks over her hole.

Her hand goes right to his hair as she tries desperately to keep her legs open for him. He holds her pussy open with two fingers, and he drags his tongue over her cunt in long, broad strokes serpentining as he gathers her wetness. She tastes so good he moans against her, she grips his hair tighter, bringing him toward her clit as a silent instruction to suck.

She drops down against the mattress then, “oh, fuck,” she moans, letting go of her grip on his hair to hold her own legs in place for him. He flicks her clit back and forth with his tongue between soft licks and suctioning onto her clit.

He pulls back enough start pulling off his rings and he places them all on his night table. He makes perfect eye contact with her as he takes his middle and ring finger in his mouth, coating them with saliva before he circles them over her hole, “ready?”

“Yeah,” she’s breathless just watching.

He smirks, she fluttered around the tips of his two fingers, sucking them into the first knuckle. He pushes in slowly to the second knuckle, watching her suck in a deep breath at the feeling. He leans back in to suck on her clit as he bottoms out, as deep as he can be inside of her like this, he curls his fingers the way she said she liked it before and begins to thrust. Pulling out ever so slightly and pumping back into her again and again.

She feels him everywhere, back arching as she pushes her pussy into his face more. She reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra and pull it off so she could grip her tits, playing with her own hardened nipples and he watches from between her legs. He laughs slightly, hot breath against her and the feeling of his lips curling into a smile brings her attention back down to him.

“Feels so good, baby,” she praises, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair again, helping keep it out of his eyes.

She can’t help closing her legs on him again as the pressure builds, and instead of scolding her for it he simply holds her knees together and pushes her legs up against her chest. He stands, still fucking her with his two fingers, and a trail of spit hangs from his lips down to her soaked pussy.

“Hold 'em up,” he instructs her to wrap her hands around the backs of her knees to keep them up. “I want you to cum for me,” he says, rubbing the forefingers of his leg hand over her clit rapidly.

Her legs start to shake, and a strange pressure builds in her stomach that she isn’t used to, like an orgasm but so, so much more. She sounds so wet, soaking up his fingers as he fucks into her faster. He rests a knee on the bed for better balance, she can feel his hard cock against her ass cheek and that does it for her.

She cums with a shout of his name and a chain of obscenities, and he does the same. “Sweet fuck, princess, look at you, holy fuck,” he can’t believe what he’s seeing. She squirted all over his hand, the edge of his mattress and his boxers.

She drops her legs, looking between them to see the mess she made. “Oh my god?”

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” he praises her, leaning in and cupping her face with his clean(ish) hand as he kisses her. She can taste herself on him, she hums as she sucks his tongue into her mouth and experiences it all.

He pulls back and gets off the bed, leaving her there on the mattress, breathless and empty and craving more. He takes off his boxers and uses them to wipe down his hand and the inside of her thighs. “Did you know you could do that?”

She nods, “not that much though.”

“I can’t fucking wait to discover everything you can do, baby,” he smirks, reaching for the condom on the pillows and opening it with his teeth. “Get comfortable, princess.”

He examines it carefully, making sure he puts it on the right way before he rolls it on. She watches as she scoots up towards the pillows, resting her head against them and laying there with her legs spread again. He crawls onto the bed again, kneeling between her legs with his cock standing there at attention. He rests his hands on her knees and drags his fingertips down towards her aching cunt once more, “you still want this?”

“More than you know,” she’s practically drooling for him, she can’t wait to feel his cock deep inside of her.

He can’t help but smile, shaking his head slightly with disbelief. He drops down on top of her, boxing her in against the mattress, she wraps her legs around him and cups his face in her hands, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeats, staring deep into her soul. “Ready?”

She nods, feeling him reach between them to grip his cock at the base and guide it into her.

She sucks in a sharp breath and makes a sound she’s never heard herself make before as he slips in inch by inch, he’s a lot thicker than she anticipated but she takes him easily. “Oh my god?” They say at the same time, resting their foreheads together with deep breaths.

“Can I move?” He whispers.

She nods, “yeah, yeah please?” She doesn’t mean to beg but she needs more.

He kisses the side of her head and then her cheek, she tilts her head to the side to capture his mouth with hers, kissing him deeply as he starts to thrust. She runs one hand through his hair and the other down his back, gripping his skin, she moans against his mouth.

He kisses the side of her mouth and then her jaw, he slips a hand behind her back to arch her forward as he kisses down her neck and towards her chest. His thrusts are slow and deep as he takes her right nipple into his mouth and sucks.

She tugs on his hair, “fuck, Eddie.”

He pops off her tit with a smile, “feel good, baby?”

“I need more,” she admits, “can you go faster?”

“Yeah?” He sits up on his knees, holding her hips with both hands for support as he fucks into her deeply, over and over.

“Holy fuck,” her back arches and she reaches out to grip the sheets around her.

She meets his thrusts, pushing her hips down every time he fucks into her, getting deeper each time. She can feel him knocking at her cervix, the angel is so perfect he grazes her g spot with each thrust, she could cum just like this.

Lucky for her, he’s best friends with her clit now and couldn’t spend more than a few minutes away from her. He licks his forefingers on his right hand and brings them down to meet the sensitive bud, rubbing them counterclockwise just as fast as he was fucking into her.

“So fuckin hot,” he praises, he feels like he’s in the middle of another good wet dream about her it’s so fucking perfect. She’s everything he’s ever wanted and then some, all here, unravelling just for him. “Gonna cum for me again, princess?”

She nods, “yeah, fuck, oh my god?” She can’t believe how good it feels, her whole body tingles, and she can barely keep her eyes open she’s so cock drunk for him.

She reaches out for his chest, wanting to touch him, missing how close he just was before this. She pulls him back down and wraps her legs around him and rolls them over so she’s on top. She straddles his hips, and he’s still inside of her, she hovers enough for him to fuck up into her just as fast, only they’re a lot closer now.

She buries her face in his neck, kissing and sucking just below his ear, “oh, Eddie, oh my god, I love you,” she mumbles, over and over as he fucks up into her.

He’s so close, he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to get her off again before he loses it all inside the condom. He reaches between their bodies to thumb over her clit, immediately making her legs quake.

“Gonna cum, please? Please?” She begs, wrapping her arms under him and holding him close. “Cum with me?”

That does it for him, he fucks up into her one last time as she drops all her weight on him, riding out her high and fucking him through his own. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her shoulder between moans and whispers of her name. “Oh, I love you, I love you so much, sweet girl.”

She’s breathing heavily against his neck but he can feel her smile, “I love you more.”

He runs his fingers over her back gently, and both of them just lay there with their eyes closed, staying in the moment as long as they could. He’s still inside of her too, she doesn’t move, he’s afraid if he does then he’ll get hard again because she’s so tight and she keeps flittering around him as she calms down. It’s heaven.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers against the side of her head before pressing a kiss to her temple. “How long do you want to lay her before we go home?”

“Home?” She repeats as she sits up carefully, “you consider my place home already?”

“You’re there, so yeah,” he admits. “I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms and I can’t do that yet, so…”

“Yeah, let’s go home,” she agrees, leaning in for one more kiss.

He holds her face in his hands, keeping her there as he breathes her in, loving every ounce of her so deeply he couldn’t even begin to express it with words. He hoped this kiss did it for him.

She pulls back with a smile, “thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he teases.

She gets off him carefully, and he hisses as he slips out, sensitive and soft. She uses the bathroom first, leaving the door open so he could come in with the used condom tied in a not and wrap it in toilet paper before hiding it at the bottom of the garbage in there. Embarrassed as all hell for Wayne to come across any evidence that they were having sex in his trailer.

She slips back into her dress, he slips into some track pants and a shirt, they get all wrapped up with their coats and she puts on her new gloves. She holds her stocking in her lap on the drive home and she still holds his hand over the centre console the whole ride too. They can’t stop smiling at each other, they don’t talk, he just has the radio on low, letting the music fill their silence.

She doesn’t know what else to say other than that she loves him. She’s overflowing with love, it’s insane.

Back in her bedroom, there are two presents left on her bed.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, picking up the one with her name knowing exactly what they are. “How did she have time to do this?”

“What?”

“These are matching Christmas pyjamas for tomorrow morning,” she explains as she hands him the other present.

He can’t believe it as he peels back the green wrapping paper to see that they were indeed the same pyjamas as the ones Y/N is holding in her hands. White shirts with red bottoms, covered in candy canes, they’re cute as hell.

“You’re officially part of the family,” she swoons, overjoyed with everything.

He tosses his PJs back onto the bed and pulls her into a hug, he cradles her head with his big hand and kisses her temple, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she wraps her arms around his middle and holds him just as tight.

They get undressed again, their pyjamas for the morning are placed on her dresser as the two of them climb into her bed together. She snuggled right up to his chest, just as naked as they were 10 minutes ago, they release a matching sigh as they settle in the dark room.

He runs his hand over her back, and she traces shapes into his chest with her finger. They’re silent, content, and happy. Everything they’ve always wanted to be, simply together.

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @eddiemunson-rp @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife

Employee of the month taglist

@munsonficdump @angelsarecallin @wonderful-outcast @aysheashea @ick90 @bloodandtime @birdsinmywalls

Eddie

@fightingdragonswithwho @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @blairscott @princesseddie

#recs!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

Text

𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗶𝗲𝘀 | 𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝘂𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝘆, 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲’𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗰𝘆. 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲’𝘀 𝗮 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁𝘀. 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄, 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁’𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗱𝗼.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗲𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲. 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗡𝗜!!! 𝗴𝗼 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆! 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗼! 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗿𝘂𝗴 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲

𝘄𝗰: 𝟯.𝟱𝗸

Eddie Munson has been staring at you for the past seven minutes.

You know because you’ve been counting. It started at 2:50, when Mrs. Lawson gave up trying to teach for the last ten-ish minutes of class. It’s Friday afternoon, after all, and nobody would have paid attention to whatever literary analysis speech she’d planned on ending the day with. She’d told everyone to work on their homework until the bell rang, plopped down into the swivel chair behind her desk, and began furiously scribbling at her pile of student work. That’s when Eddie had sunk low in his chair and settled his eyes on you.

At first, you’d thought he was just zoning out. You’re in his natural line of sight, so it didn’t bother you. A few minutes later, you’d started to think that he had some sort of beef with you. And now, you’re getting a little pissed off. Is there something on your face? You smooth your hands over your cheeks, fingers splaying over your skin in search of a dried smear of food, a sign that says look at me, Eddie, or, really, anything else that would give him reason to ogle you like this.

Nothing.

Just as you’re about to glower over at him to express your annoyance, the bell rings. Eddie springs out of his seat and rushes to the door with the rest of the class. You stand, an idle laugh of disbelief on your lips as you stuff your notebook into your backpack and head out the door. Maybe he was just… Bored? You try not to let it get to you.

On the bright side, it’s a beautiful day. The heat of Summer has finally petered out, and in its place, a cool breeze has swept into Hawkins to usher in the new season. Leaves are already turning, and it’s getting cold enough for your “morning sweater” to stay on all afternoon, too. Given the fact that you have to walk home, you’re grateful. No more sweating through your shirt before you can make it through the front door.

You’re listening to the soothing whoosh of the wind moving through the trees, enjoying your walk as much as you can, when you spot a figure in the corner of your eye. You turn to look, and see that it’s a beat-up van slowing to a stop on the road beside you. “Jesus fuck,” you mutter to yourself. Is today the day you get tugged into a van and murdered like those kids on the national news?

The driver’s side window rolls down, and there’s Eddie Munson, chewing on his bottom lip.

You finally get to glower at him.

“Hey,” he greets, oblivious. He says your name like it’s a question, like he doesn’t know if he’s got it right. Then, “Do you need a ride?”

A particularly strong gust of wind blows by, sending your hair flying in all different directions. You busy yourself pushing it back into place for a moment, just to give yourself time to contemplate his offer.

He totally could murder you if you get in that van, but it’s also another twenty-five minutes on foot to your house.

“You were staring at me in English class,” you blurt in pace of a yes or no. “Why?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide at that, but only for a second. He quickly recovers, clears his throat, and starts drumming his fingers over the ridge of his steering wheel. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. It’s just… You look pretty today, is all. Sorry - I’m sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him. “Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, and it disappears into the frizzed curls that hang loose to his shoulders.

“Listen, if you don’t want a ride, that’s fine. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. God, was I staring for that long?” He squeezes his eyes shut and you can almost hear the self-deprecating thoughts in his head. All at once, you decide that he’s not going to murder you and store your body parts in the back of his van. He’s clearly too anxious.

“I didn’t say I don’t want a ride,” you tell him, tone matter-of-fact. Backpack in tow, you trudge over to the passenger’s side of the van, yank the door open, and hop into the seat. “And yes. You were staring for that long.”

The door shuts with a thud. Eddie spares you a quick glance, clearly self-conscious about looking for too long, before he starts driving again. For the first minute or so, the only sound is the low rumble of the engine and the crunch of the occasional rock beneath the wheels. You watch the road unfold before you, content with the silence if it means you don’t have to walk home for once.

Eddie speaks up. “Where am I taking you?”

“Shit, sorry. It’s a left on Mulberry.” You rattle off some other directions, and Eddie nods along, looking thoughtful with his eyes still on the road.

“You always walk home?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Mom said it’s either I keep smoking weed, or she buys me a car. So, no car for me.”

That earns a chuckle from Eddie, and he turns his head to grin at you while he hangs a left, seamlessly following the directions you’d listed for him. “Sounds like you’ve got your priorities straight,” he comments, and you don’t miss the sarcasm laced within his tone.

“Always. I’m very responsible,” you quip.

Once Eddie turns onto the road your house is on, the ride gets bumpy. The houses on this street have been here since Hawkins’ first few decades of existence, and for whatever reason, the residents were never keen on having it paved. Dust rises around Eddie’s van as he steers over the rocks and dirt, the vehicle jolting and shaking over the unstable road every few seconds. You try not to wince.

“Sorry,” you find yourself muttering.

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine. Really. This thing’s a piece of shit anyway, I’m not worried.” Eddie smiles at you reassuringly. You notice the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, and you can tell that he’s being genuine.

“It’s that one,” you say when your house comes into sight. Eddie pulls up to the driveway and puts the van in park. His eyes flicker over the house, taking it in - it’s nothing special, really, an old folk Victorian home with an overgrown lawn. The only thing noticeable about it is that it’s been painted a rich shade of green - your idea. You’d chosen the color when you were just old enough to make bad decisions, yet just young enough for your parents to do whatever you wanted.

Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat when you pry open the door and step out of his van. You don’t notice.

“Thanks for the ride,” you offer as you lean down to duck into the door. “I’ll see you in class.”

Just before you can shut the door, Eddie calls out your name, and you peek down at him again with an arched brow. He tilts his head at you. “I know we’re not… Close, or anything, but if you’re cool with it, we can make this a thing. I can drive you - to and from school, I mean. I’d hate to think about you walking when it gets cold.”

You take in his expression: the self-consciousness in his gaze, the way his brows knit together in concern, the working of his jaw when he starts chewing at his lower lip again. It strikes you that he’s nervous asking you this, like he’s worried you’ll think he’s being too much by offering to drive you around, and your heart lurches. Just a little.

“Okay. Yeah, sure.” You nod at Eddie, fingers toying with the straps of your backpack. “That’d be really nice.”

You don’t miss the flash of disbelief that flickers through Eddie’s features before he smiles at you. Beams at you, really.

“Sweet. I’ll see you… Monday morning, then. Bright and early.”

“Monday morning,” you confirm. You give him another nod, and your lips curl into a smile. “See you, Eddie.”

When you get upstairs to your room, you sprawl out on your mattress and stuff your face into your pillow, cheeks burning scarlet.

The first few days of your carpool situation with Eddie aren’t anything special. It’s awkward, to be honest - you two aren’t very familiar, in spite of the host of classes you share. Eddie doesn’t know how to talk to you, tending to babble too much. Likewise, you don’t know how to talk to him, and you end up just listening in silence as he rattles off about how stupid Mrs. Lawson’s last essay prompt was, or how irritating Finn Groveland’s head is when it blocks Eddie’s view of the board. But after you fall into a routine, you find yourself growing more comfortable. Your palms don’t sweat as much when you slip into the van and settle your backpack on your lap. It feels easier to make conversation, easier to laugh at his dumb jokes without feeling disingenuous.

Today, you’ve decided to make more of an effort at this… Friendship. And for you, that means waking up an extra ten minutes early in the morning to roll up a joint, wrap it in a napkin, and stuff it into an empty Altoids tin at the bottom of your bag. You save it for the ride home from school, when the two of you climb into Eddie’s van and roll down the windows on the drive to your house. The route is relatively traffic-free, so you’re not worried about getting caught when you lift the joint to your lips and shield it with your hand. With a lighter in your other hand, you hold the flame to the end of the joint until it catches. You draw in a deep inhale and watch the paper glow a deep shade of orange.

“Yes, you may spark up in my van. Thanks for asking,” Eddie comments from the driver’s seat.

You cough out your exhale, having realized your mistake. Sure, he sounds sarcastic, but you should have asked. Beat-up van or not, nobody wants their transportation to smell like skunk.

“Fuck - I’m so sorry,” you manage to say between coughs. You hold out the joint to him, ducking your chin into your shoulder to muffle your hacking. Eddie’s laughing at you now, taking the joint with one hand while he steers with the other and leans his head back on the headrest. His expression anything but unkind as he takes a hit.

Through the coughing fit-induced tears in your eyes, you watch his mouth curl around the joint and suck. Something twists in your gut.

You turn away to rub the tears out of your eyes and listen to the sound of Eddie exhaling, the purr of the van’s engine rumbling beneath you. When you get the joint again, you take a few puffs to try to rid yourself of that weird, foreboding feeling you’d gotten when you’d looked at Eddie’s lips. Your high settles into your body quickly, muscles relaxing and mind floating before the joint nearly burns out entirely. When you steal another look at Eddie, you assume he feels the same - an easy smile is etched onto his lips, and his eyes are just a bit more hooded than usual.

When he catches your eye, you audibly squeak as you look away.

“You’re staring at me,” he points out. “Why?”

That fucker, you think. Using my own words against me.

“Didn’t mean to,” you say instead. “Sorry. I wanted to see if you looked high.”

You’re pinching the last remnants of the joint between your index finger and thumb. You offer it to him, the last couple puffs before it’s gone, and instead of grabbing it, he leans against the center console, neck craned towards you. It takes a beat for you to realize what he’s doing - he wants you to bring the joint to his lips. He’s too busy with his hands, all of a sudden.

You fidget in your seat for a moment before extending your arm towards Eddie, bringing the joint within his reach. He leans an extra inch or two forward before he can latch onto the mouthpiece, and when he does, he inhales to the very ends of his lungs. A stream of smoke erupts from his mouth before it’s back on the joint, and he hits it once or twice more before he’s done. Satisfied, he settles back into his seat.

You’re left thinking about the way he sounds when he’s breathing deeply, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes flutter when smoke passes through his lashes. There’s that foreboding feeling in your gut again.

“Thanks for that.” Eddie breaks the silence with a happy sigh. “Just what I needed after that dumbass algebra quiz.”

You force a smile at his words, but you’re really not listening. Nope, what you’re really doing is wondering how Eddie’s hands would feel on your tits, smoothing their way over the plane of your back, slipping into your pants––

“We’re here, by the way. Are you… Good?”

Oops.

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m just high.” You press your lips together into a thin line. Even though you recognize that Eddie’s waiting for you to get out of the car, given that you’re idling in the driveway, you don’t move to get up.

“I get it,” he reassures, nodding. “We can sit here for a little, if you want. I don’t have anywhere to be.”

You lean your head back against the seat and breathe in a sigh, relieved. Your limbs are starting to feel warm and fuzzy now, the weed settling into every inch of you like you’re drenched in it. When you turn to look over at Eddie, his eyes are already on you. He doesn’t look away.

“What?” You murmur, self-consciousness creeping up on you. Eddie’s gaze is soft, unthreatening, but you’re still on edge.

“Nothing. You’re, um. You look cute right now.”

You can’t place your finger on it, but something about Eddie’s voice sounds different. It’s not as boisterous or teasing or cocky as usual, the way he sounds when he’s confidently answering questions wrong in class, or telling you about his last DnD campaign. It’s softer, somehow. Comforting.

Instead of saying thank you, you stare up at Eddie with what you hope are your best doe eyes. The plan wasn’t to get him high so he’d kiss you this afternoon, but now that the joint has been smoked and you’re realizing that Eddie has the most warm chocolatey brown eyes you’ve ever seen in your life, there’s nothing you want more than to sink into his lap and feel his mouth on yours.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Eddie’s hand in your face. He waves his palm in front of you once, twice, three times, and finally, you snap back into reality.

“Jesus Christ, you really are high,” he comments, and before he can draw back his hand, you grab at it. He goes rigid, confusion working its way into his expression as you bring his hand up to your cheek - he gets the hint, though, and lets his palm brush against your skin, fingertips skating along your jaw.

The air is very, very still.

And then you say, “I want to kiss you.”

And Eddie blinks at you like a deer in headlights.

And then he says, “Okay, sure.”

And then you’re sitting up in your seat, meeting him halfway over the center console, tilting your head and shutting your eyes.

And when your lips meet his, he tastes like weed smoke and mint gum. He freezes in place when you kiss him, but then you feel his lips mold against yours, like he’s melting into you the way you feel like you’re melting into him. You stay like that for what feels like a whole minute before you break the kiss and lean your forehead against his.

“Can we do that again?” Eddie breathes, his voice so low you wouldn’t be able to hear him if he weren’t so close. You give a brief nod before you’re kissing again. This time, it feels deeper, more genuine, more comfortable. Eddie’s hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers slotting into the hair at the base of your skull and pressing into your scalp. He lets you take control of the kiss, though, his mouth opening for you when your tongue skates along the length of his lower lip, and his breath is hot in your mouth.

Arousal burns low between your hips, your thighs pressed together to relieve some of the pressure there. Making out is fun, sure, but you’re starting to want more - you reach a hand over to find the crotch of Eddie’s jeans, only to find him already hard. Satisfaction sends a thrilling shiver up your spine.

Before you can start to palm at his erection, Eddie breaks the kiss in a hurry.

“Sorry,” he rushes to say when your lips part. His exhale is warm on your face. “It’s just, um. I’ve never…”

He trails off intentionally, looking up at you through narrowed eyes. His expression looks almost pained, and just as you start to utter a confused “huh,” it hits you.

Oh. Oh shit.

You try to hide all traces of shock from your face, but it’s clear from the look that Eddie gives you that he knows you’re surprised. And he doesn’t seem to feel too great about that. His cheeks take on a twinge of pink, the color blooming outwards. He rubs at the back of his neck.

“I mean, it’s not that surprising, is it? Y’know, being the freak of Hawkins High and all. I think it’d be more surprising if I had, maybe, I don’t know, an ungodly body count. That - that would be something, right?”

He’s babbling. You nod along with him before he loses you, and you bring a hand up to press it to his mouth, as if to say God, just shut up.

“It’s fine, Eddie,” you say, finally. “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.”

He visibly cringes at the word.

“I’m serious.” You remove your hand from his mouth and bring it to his shoulder, and you give him a good shake. “I don’t think differently of you. Swear.”

Only, you kind of do. But not in the way that he might think. It’s not weird that he’s a virgin, and he’s right that it’s not surprising. Something about it is actually… Kind of endearing. The way he’s fumbling over his words, lips swollen from making out only a moment ago, looking at you with eyes wide as saucers.

Another realization slams into you.

“Oh my god,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, “Was that your first kiss?”

The way Eddie sinks down into his seat, as low as he possibly can, is enough confirmation for you. You gawk at him, which is probably unfair, but you’re genuinely taken by surprise about this. Because Jesus, Eddie might be a bit of a social recluse and all, but he’s gorgeous, and you’ve seen the way some girls look at him in the halls when they think no one’s watching. But you? His first kiss? Holy shit.

Part of you feels smug that you got to be the first one to kiss his pretty lips, but another part of you erupts into anxiety that it wasn’t good enough. That maybe it was anticlimactic, your mouth too dry, your tongue too eager.

“Eddie.” You reach over to him again, this time to nudge his chin so he’ll look at you. “I hope that was a good first kiss. Seriously.”

Praying that he can see the sincerity in your eyes when he looks at you, you let your lips quirk into a small smile. “And if you liked it, I wouldn’t mind kissing again. Like, to help you learn how to do it right. Not because I want to kiss you or anything.”

Though his cheeks are still rosy, Eddie has it in him to smile back at you. “Yeah, to help me learn. I agree. You’re smart.”

“Okay, deal. And I know, by the way. That I’m smart.”

Eddie laughs, and the sound leaves your limbs tingling.

By now, it’s reached the point in the afternoon when the sunlight has started turning golden, the shadows of the trees growing longer against the burst of green that is your house. You realize that you’ve been sitting in the driveway for a half hour, and, reluctantly, decide to finally take your leave. Honestly, you need to shut yourself in your room and process what just happened.

Pushing the van door open, you tilt your head at Eddie and offer him a grin. He chuckles nervously, and you slide out the door.

“I’ll see you later,” you call out to him.

“See ya,” he responds, and his voice almost sounds like it’s back to normal. Almost.

You make the trip up the driveway and to your front door and, just before you disappear inside, you turn to look back at the van one last time.

Inside, Eddie’s hitting his head against the steering wheel, just light enough to keep from honking the horn.

𝘁𝘆𝘀𝗺 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 <𝟯 𝗺𝘄𝗮𝗵!

#recs!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

Text

noticing joe keery squinting at everything and remembering he chooses to not be able to see. mans needs glasses and he said “nah i don’t wear those” and refuses to put in contacts

#lmfaoo #joe keery #cast!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

Text

DICED

“I want to taste you again, like a secret or a sin.”

CHAPTER || 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Pairing: Eddie x bestfriend!female!Reader

Summary: Eddie comes up with a game to help you prepare for when you get a boyfriend.

W.C: 2.1k

Warnings: NO MINORS, smut will be heavy throughout this.

A/N: oh trashmouth-richie another mini series? Yep, get over it. This is a collab with @munson-blurbs! Give her some love 💋

You’re sitting atop Eddie’s lap on his dungeon master chair. Your panties are tucked away in Eddie’s back pocket soaked with your slick. Your head is thrown back against his shoulder a loud moan frees itself from your slack mouth as Eddie’s thick fingers circle around your clit.

“Shh,” Eddie groans, releasing your purpling marked up tit and squeezing your mouth shut, “you want the whole town to know how much of a slut you are?”

After school today, your best friend Eddie decided to play a little game. “It’s easy sweetheart, I promise.” Eddie coos as he takes out the velvet bag of dice from his bag he kept specifically for DnD. Couldn’t be bothered with carrying a backpack but he had an entire duffel bag just for DND. You sat on the dingy carpet of his bedroom twirling a piece of strewn carpet fiber through your fingers as Eddie lay lazily on his bed, smoking the last bit of his joint and tossing the bag up to himself.

“So w-what are the rules to this game?” You ask nervously. Eddie could be an absolute menace when he wanted to be, but never to you. He was, however, trickier than Loki and more sly than a fox. He didn’t treat you like every other asshat in Hawkins did, he always looked out for you, stuck up for you when the popular girls called you horrible names, and even beat up one of the boys on the basketball team for trying to lift your skirt when you were bent over at the water fountain.

“‘ts easy,” Eddie says, inhaling his joint, “I’m going to roll the dice twice, and then you’ll roll them twice. The first roll signifies where it will happen, the second, how it will happen. I wrote down a bunch of different scenarios, kind of like CLUE but instead of finding out who killed Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with the candlestick; it’ll be me and you, making each other cum, in different places, simple.”

“Eddie! I never agreed to this!” you stammer out flabbergasted. When Eddie asked you to come over afterschool to set the rules for a new game, you thought maybe he had stolen a deck of cards from Melvald’s. Not whatever crazy shit this was.

“Sure you did, remember weeks ago when I covered for you when you were too high to go to work and I took your shift at Benny’s so you could sleep it off, in my bed?” Son of a bitch. “And you said, ‘oh Eddie thank you I love you I’ll do whatever you want!’ Remember that sweetheart?”

Of course you remembered, you just hoped he had forgot.

Eddie had bought a new bong and you were only used to smoking joints with him in the back of the van after school. But when he excitedly dragged you through the trailer to show you his new possession sitting pretty on top of the small Formica table, your eyes gleamed and glowed with admiration at the sight of the 4 ft glassed beauty.

Taking the first hit was like inhaling smoke directly from a chimney, you coughed until you practically peed your pants, “yeah sorry I should have warned you it’s pretty intense.” Through bloodshot eyes, and a coughing fit, your high hit you like a freight train. Eddie had to carry you to the bed because you couldn’t walk, you were blubbering into his ear about how pretty he was— that you remember. What you didn’t remember was falling asleep. You woke to Eddie coming back from your shift at Benny’s and you apologizing to him fruitlessly. Guess he didn’t forget that part after all.

Shaking your head and standing up you shout, “okay asshole but this isn’t what I meant! I meant like I would take your next shift, or-or clean your nasty room! Or buy you lunch one day, not be a fuck puppet to your sadistic ass!”

“Ah ah ah, don’t get mad at me, baby.” Eddie says wagging a ringed finger at you, “I could have easily gotten high with you and had Benny fire you for not showing up, but instead like the gentleman that I am,” he said placing both hands on his heart like a Valentine’s Day cherub, “I covered for you. Now you owe me so if you would, kindly roll the goddamn dice so we can start.”

“Fiiiiiine!” You groaned. It wasn’t that the idea of having Eddie’s hands all over you making you have an orgasm made you sick, it was quite the opposite. What if he found out you actually liked him? You couldn’t bear the thought of losing Eddie’s friendship over something as trivial as fooling around. “But first I want to know why? Why are we doing this?”

“For practice.” Eddie said nonchalantly as he stubbed out the last bit of his joint. “That way when you get a boyfriend you’ll know what to do and also you’ll know what makes you feel good.”

You scoff at his words, “Oh really? And what makes you think that you’ll be able to make that happen? Last I checked, Rosie Palms was the only date you’ve ever had.” You said wiggling the fingers on your right hand.

“Oh sweetheart,” Eddie says, letting out a throaty chuckle, “there’s plenty of things that happen in this room that you’re unaware of.”

The pit in your stomach falls as your heart breaks slightly. The gut wrenching feeling of thinking about Eddie rolling around in his sheets with anyone else is enough to make you vomit. What is there to lose from this? At least you’ll get to finally kiss him.

“Okay but we need some guidelines… some standards! One, We can’t tell anyone, and I mean it Munson! That big fucking mouth of yours better not be flapping to any little Hellfire guys, got it?” Eddie shakes his head up and down as he sits up rubbing his hands together. “Number two, I’m not having sex with you so don’t even ask, and three, and I can’t stress this enough, no visible hickeys anywhere, my dad will kill you, then me.”

“Got it,” Eddie slides down his bed as if he is made of syrup, landing softly and crossing his long legs, “here’s the lists of ‘Where’, labeled 1-12, and the ‘How’ 1-6. Uhhh shit hang on.” Eddie jumps up and runs to the living room, you hear him sorting through some drawers as he yells out , “bingo!” You glance your eyes over the “Where” list, and your throat instantly becomes dry, is Eddie out of his fucking mind? You thought maybe he would have put: in his room, the living room, your bed. But no, Eddie has once again outdone himself. Detention, school parking lot, Starcourt mall bathroom, adult section of Family Video?

He comes back with the lid of a monopoly box, colorful play money cascades down to the dirty carpet as he trots back into the room, “here, roll in this.”

Holding the list in your sweaty palm you thrust it into the air, “Eddie… what the f—?”

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it, took forever to write all this out, now be a good girl and roll.” You shut your eyes take a deep breath. Sticking out your tongue at him as you pick up the D12, twirling it in your hand twice before rolling it onto the duct taped monopoly box.

You scroll your finger down the list and you stop hovering over the words “beer cooler in the gas station” you peek at Eddie through your eyelashes. A slow smile creeps across his lips, “alright, now the how.” Eddie grabs the velvety bag on his messy bed and fishes through it finding the D6. “Evens are are dealers choice, and odds are oral.” Eddie hands the dice to you as if he didn’t just suggest that if you roll an even number that his mouth would be on your lady parts by tomorrow. Already you can feel the distinct aching throb of your pussy. This is stupid, this is so fucking stupid, you’re literally sweating at the sight of these goddamn dice. Running your thumb over each side as they soon decide how Eddie will use his body to make you have an orgasm. You look up at Eddie to see him anxiously awaiting the decision of your trembling hand. His eyes are blown dark and he’s biting his bottom lip. The man is dripping of sex and he’s not even trying. You make a crude pumping motion with your hand as the dice fly free, hitting the cardboard with the thud, dancing softly and stuttering to a stop.

“Mmm, dealer's choice. I like that.” Eddie chides as he licks his lips, and twirls his hair as he blushes a pretty pink. “Now you can choose when this happens, I think we should do 7 days, starting tomorrow. So Thursday -Thursday.”

“SEVEN DAYS! Eddie! I thought we were doing this once!” your face is red with embarrassment as your best friend laughs.

“Ohhhh no, we’re doing this for seven days,” Eddie leans forward and almost whispers, “three days for me and uhh…four for you because, as you will soon find out sweetheart, I’m a giver.” His eyes flicker down to your lips as he hums softly. He raises his hand and pushes your hair out of your face feeling the calloused tips of his fingers graze your cheek lightly. Running his thumb along your plump lips, he pulls down gently exposing the soft anatomy of your inner bottom lip. His tongue peeks out of the corner edge of his mouth. His eyes go wide as he watches your bottom lip bounce back into place. “My turn.” He says winking devilishly.

After many rounds of dice throwing and you and Eddie bickering over who should write everything down because his handwriting is awful— you have it all narrowed down. Your day starts tomorrow, then Eddie then you, and so on. You rolled: Movie theater, gas station & after Hellfire Club, and hot tub, which would be tricky because neither one of you even had a hot tub. Eddie rolled: at Benny’s, detention, and the adult section of Family Video.

You can’t believe that you agreed to this. It seemed as though Eddie’s smile got wider and wider with every roll. His eyes sparkled as they watched the dance of the dice skating around the makeshift cardboard dance floor. Watching Eddie be so anxious for the dice to land had you, bothered. You ended up having to put your hair up, finding it suddenly hot in the drafty trailer. Eddie watched as you twirled your hair around your finger in an upwards motion, pulling it away from your face with a clip revealing the slope of your neck as small tendrils of your hair kissed the bottom of your chin. He never in a million years thought that you would agree to this. At first he just made up the game to get you mad, to tease you in a way that nobody but him was allowed to do. But then you had said yes and to be honest, he had been rocking half a chub since that moment.

Glancing at the thin watch on your wrist it was already 10 o’clock. “Fuck, Eddie I have to go,” you stand to your feet and grab your purse stuffing your feet into your converse as you hurriedly tie the laces. “Can you drive me?”

“Already ahead of you, sweetheart.” Eddie says spinning his van keys on his finger. He’s leaning against the frame of his bedroom door, hands stuffed into his leather jacket.

The drive home is quiet, normally Eddie is blaring Metallica and driving like a maniac, but not tonight. He has a sly grin on his face and his dark eyes turn carnal. “So, what movie we seein’ tomorrow anyway?”

“I guess whatever one has a matinee, probably less people in there during the day time… it’ll be, easier.” You are twiddling your thumbs and looking out the window, trying to ignore the fact that your window is already fogged up and you haven’t been talking much.

“Oh honey, just a little taste of me turning you on and you’ll be more than easy.” Eddie says wickedly. “Now,” he stops the van outside of your house turning to face you, his eyes dark and looking through his lashes at you, “I’ll see you tomorrow, get some rest,” he leans across you to open the door, dragging his hand across your lap as he sits back up. He winks as he smiles, Cheshire Cat like at you, “You’re gonna need it.”

#i’m obsessed #recs!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

Note

So is bully!eddie in love now that he’s expecting??? Would he ever be sweet? in his own way…

one could say he's always been in love but has the absolute worst way of dealing with it, but since you've given me the chance to elaborate >:)

(cws: bully!eddie, pregnancy, babytrapping, eddie struggles with being nice, name-calling, insecurities, mood swings, a hint at a humiliation kink, mostly fluff and comfort + some angst, f!angelface.)

"I'm home,"

Eddie calls out to the empty trailer, wiping his fingers on his overalls one more time, and tapping his boots free of dirt and any oil on the doorway before he takes a full step inside, and lets the screen door close behind him with a kerchunk. Keys are thrown up on the peg by the front, and he pulls off his jacket and hangs it up right next to them before toeing off his shoes and padding across the carpet.

It's not home home, not Wayne's home, but it looks almost identical--and it's close enough for him to see his uncle's trailer from the window, only a few lots down so he can still spend time with his family when he wants.

This home is yours, his and yours, now--but you're nowhere to be seen when he casts a glance around, can't spot a flick of your hair or the roundness of your pregnant self waddling around. For just a fraction of a second, the panic hits him and he ducks to look out the window for any sight of you heading off the property....but then he hears the muted noises coming from the tv, the one in the bedroom, and he thumps down the hall to swing inside and see what's waiting for him.

You're stretched out on the sofa in there, an old one that his uncle picked up and pawned off to him when he moved out, the worn pattern of the busy fabric much resembling the floor of an arcade--including that it looks like it's been walked all over by a thousand pairs of sneakers. But it's fine for you, obviously, because you're laid down and leaning on the arm as you watch one of his old movies, your belly only about a third covered by the huge, baggy t-shirt he got for you out of a thrift store bin. Scrounging for discount maternity clothes, as it turns out, is one of his few specialties.

"You hungry?" He queries, once his eyes have flicked towards the screen and back to you. You've only got on a pair of panties, rather than pants, and your legs are almost completely tucked up under your seven-nearly-eight-months-swollen belly.

"Shut up." You reply, without even sparing him a glance, and he hovers over the space beside you that he was just about to plop down into.

"Something I said, or something I did? Or are you reading my thoughts now?" He's used to that shitty attitude, that bratty streak he always knew you had in you. Usually you wait to pull it out when he's spoken more than two words in his direction. And usually, you answer him right away. Not this time.

Standing right back up, he wanders a few steps away, towards his dresser--and that's when his eyes laser-focus on what's sitting there, a stale glass of water and a few small things that have been laying there since he left for work hours ago. Eddie sweeps up the pills and rolls them around in his palm, checking with his thumb and counting them out to see if they're really all there before he turns back to you.

"You didn't take your prenatals? What the fu-uuuh, why? Why didn't you?" He quickly shakes off the curse that just barely stayed in his mouth, the "fuck is wrong with you" settling back in his throat before he clears it and waits. Those stupid fucking breathing exercises he learned from that dumbass anger management book are pretty much the only things he can cling to at this moment.

"Fuck you, that's why."

Oh, he's boiling. Eddie clenches his fist, nails digging into his own palm in hopes that the sting will cleanse his anger, and just repeats those words in his head. She's pregnant. She's just moody. She's a bitch. No, she's not--only sometimes--just don't yell at a pregnant woman. Wayne will disown you. Deep breath.

"Please," He grunts through gritted teeth, stepping around the couch and holding his fist out to you. "Take them. The baby needs them."

Your eyes flit towards him for a moment, and the glimpse he gets of how stormy yet glimmery they look....it sobers him in the span of a single breath, and when you turn your gaze back to the tv, he can hear the palpable wobble of your voice.

"The baby hates me."

Almost immediately after, the tears start flooding in, and he drops down to his knees on instinct to touch your face and put the pills aside on the end table, fingers ten times as gentle now as they were before. It would be the perfect reaction, the one he's been practicing, if he didn't feel that unmistakable rush of blood and twitch of his cock stirring in his pants when you hiccup and look all pathetic--not now.

"I'm a bad mom," You whimper, fists bunching up in your shirt, and barely even grazing your own stomach like you're afraid to touch it. "I hate what she's doing to me--I hate how I look now, I hate being pregnant!" You sob out, snotting and crying all over his shirt as he pushes his arms around you and tucks your head under his chin. There's no shushing, no "It's okay, baby", nothing like that, he just stops and listens and tries to process it all so he doesn't say something stupid out of habit.

"I'm just...just a stupid fucking whore of a mom..." You tremble in his embrace, clinging to him like you don't want to let him go but hovering as if you're expecting him to pull away. And he does, but only so he can look you in the eyes with that furrowed brow and huff out an answer.

"No, you're not."

"You said it, Eddie!" You wail, and push him off you, that sudden surge of pregnancy strength nearly toppling him over on his ass. "And you were right! I'm...I'm just some dumb bitch who trapped you," Sniffling, you paw at your own eyes again, breathing so laboured that your stomach is heaving and a twinge of worry shoots through him, remedied only when you have a moment to settle and manage to put your words back together. "I thought I had nothing to lose....and I just wanted to be cruel."

You say it so definitively, so defeatedly, that he can't help but scoff and roll his eyes. He thought you'd figured it out by his initial reaction, or at least by now, but obviously you're thicker in the head than--o-obviously you're just a little oblivious.

"You think I don't know that?"

"...What?" You stare back at him like a fish, questioning and unsure and almost scared-looking, fingers fiddling together as you look him up and down and wait for his answer.

"You're not fucking slick--you think I wouldn't notice a buncha goddamn holes in my condoms? I wasn't about to knock up some random bitch and get stuck with a brat." He slides in closer, back to where he was, and smoothes a strand of hair back to keep it from your face--an unexpectedly tender gesture not just for you, but for him, too, cause he didn't really think about it before he did it. While his words remain harsh and brutal, there's some semblance of gentleness he just can't shake around you and he doesn't really want to try to. "I fucked you anyway, cause I wanted you. I wanted this-" He reaches over and rubs at your belly, the skin taut but soft from the lotion he's bought for you and helped you rub in most mornings. "-Fucking belly all swelled up with my kids. And you're so goddamn sexy like this, all big and sweet and whiny. Yeah, I didn't want kids with some stuffy, stuck-up bitch, but you're....you're not that."

You shake your head, but you don't smack his hand away from touching your stomach. While your sobs have subsided, he can still spot a few tears spilling over your waterline that his words have coaxed out. "You're a liar."

"Sure I am, but not about this." He grins down at you like a fool. Yeah, he may be foolish, but he's not completely stupid--he's seen your reaction to your body as you've gotten bigger, watched you run your fingers over the stretchmarks and turn to look at yourself in the mirror, lips turning down into a scowl as your favourite clothes become more and more ill-fitting. It doesn't really make sense to him why you're so upset, he figured you'd realize what the changes would be and you'd be prepared for them. It hadn't occurred to him that maybe he's been part of that, his words ringing out in your voice still echoing in his head. "Stupid fucking whore."

Is that what my daughter will think? Is the thought that hits him hardest from nowhere. Will she throw something like that back at me one day? Will she look at me with those same eyes as yours, and tell me she hates me? Just like I did to my old man?

"You're....you're gonna be the best mom, okay? You're not gonna be fucking perfect, but you're gonna be the best you can." Eddie's hand that isn't currently sticking to your belly raises to your cheek, his thumb swiping away the tears that have been left behind. If someone asked him a year ago if he could ever imagine he'd be the one comforting you, he'd probably laugh in their face. "Cause you don't give up, and you're clever. You just suck at sneaking around."

The tease takes a moment to dawn on you, his sarcasm gentle enough for a smile to work its way across your face. Your fingers crawl for his, warming his knuckles as you lay them over the one he's got over your daughter, and he can safely say he's glad to see you breathe a soft sigh of relief when the two of you feel a distinct kick. "She's gonna be gorgeous, just like you. Pretty eyes and cute smile and all."

Somehow that's even more shocking for you to hear, you don't even know how to receive it, you just look down and chew on your lip--and Eddie tucks away a mental note to do some work on that. Maybe complimenting you a little more would do you some good, something nice for you to hear aside from all the prep he's doing for the baby. You certainly seem to like it, with the kiss you press to his lips somewhat of a treat for just saying what he thinks in his head out loud.

"Besides, if this kid's gonna hate anyone, it's gonna be me. She's gonna be a momma and grandpa's girl for sure--I'm gonna make her eat her vegetables." For once, maybe for the first time, he watches as your eyes crinkle and your lips split open, and you laugh. Genuinely, there's no faking a laugh like that, and Eddie almost feels a spike of anger twitch because his immediate reaction is that you're mocking him--but that fades in an instant, and the seemingly constant ache of his heart soothes, and he finds himself at a loss for what to say. He just watches, and admires you.

Maybe one day he'll realize that this is the moment he knew for certain you were the one, the moment in which whatever's been hanging over his shoulder just disappears as he cracks a smile back at you. But he shoves it all aside for now, stands so you hopefully won't catch that dumb grin on his face, and grabs the handful of pills off the table next to you to press them into your palms, and hurries off to get you a fresh glass of water that hasn't been sitting around all day.

"Speaking of which, it's time to take your damn pills. I promise you don't want me to make you swallow them, you little crybaby."

#recs!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

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Okay but miscommunication trope is only super yummy when there’s a happy ending. Liiiike reader thinking they’re getting kicked out of their relationship in the fruity four, they’re not wanted anymore, maybe even bring replaced (ie with someone like Chrissy), and so every little sarcastic quip or ignoring is seen by them as the others not loving them anymore 🥺. Until one day it all comes crumbling down and I can’t decide with is more angsty, you breaking down telling the others they don’t love you anymore, or you trying to be brave by announcing you’re leaving and the fours hearts just dropping as they try to scramble to convince you to stay and why?! Why are you leaving!?!?! Please! But of course, happy ending when everything’s properly explained and angel is reassured they could never all fall out of love with them ❤️

oh.......miscommunication trope, you say? >:)

(cws: fruity four, gn!angelface, jealousy, post-s4, PTSD, huge miscommunication trope, domestic arguing, you have a tattoo + kinda shitty parents + bad home life, chrissy's a jealousy target, breakups, jopper appearance, you're childhood friends with jonathan, mentions of grief, an almost car crash, very mild head trauma, crying, angst with a happy ending--stick with me angels!)

Sometimes you wish Chrissy would just disappear. Just--poof--and she'd be gone.

It's awful of you to think, but you can't help it. She's just always around, ever since her breakup with Jason she's been by the house much more frequently. You were happy for her at first, because you liked her up until then, and she's always been nice to you. Plus, your partners saved her life back when all that crazy stuff with the Upside Down happened, an event you weren't privy to until after the fact, when you started dating them.

But she's always on Eddie, always chatting him up, always giggling at his attempts to cheer her up, and now she's attracted the attention of your other partners too. They're good friends, and that's good, but....why can you not shake this feeling that there's something more going on? That the arm touches over his jacket and the inside jokes aren't as friendly and harmless as they want you to think?

It's worse than that, though. The honeymoon phase is clearly over--cause all four of them just brush off your concerns, insisting that you're overreacting or just not addressing them at all. So you haven't been piping up when a joke hurts your feelings, and you've bitten your tongue when one of them has to reschedule something you've planned, and it's gotten to the point that they've wondered why you're so quiet all of a sudden. Why would they care? You think with a sour feeling in the back of your throat, rubbing the tattoo on your arm that Eddie gave you and wondering if that was just practice for someone else. You're not oblivious to the way Chrissy is slowly being invited into gatherings and dinners with everyone.....just like you were in the beginning. And after an especially heated fight with both Eddie and Robin, the worst one you've ever gotten into in your entire relationship, he got so pissed off that he just told you not to come to the dinner they had planned, and they'd take someone who actually wanted to go.

That was a couple days ago, and the air in the house has been strained for nobody else but you. You're equally as hurt by Eddie yelling at you as Robin silently going along with it, even though you slammed your bedroom door in her face when she tried to follow you, and waited until Eddie tugged her along to leave before you allowed yourself to cry. You're sick of the feeling that none of them really care for you, that you've been demoted to a piece of furniture in the house, because they've clearly lost interest. And they don't care when your things start disappearing from the house, when the clothes in your closet start dwindling, leaving behind nothing but the ones they've bought for you--no, they'd rather moon over Chrissy fucking Cunningham, and you've just taken all you think your heart can handle.

"I'm going out!" You call into the house from the front door, without any of their four voices responding. When you sigh, turn, and step out to turn the corner of the house, though, you bump right into one of them.

"Oh! Hey, baby." Steve steps back and readjusts the paper bag full of groceries he's got his arm around, keys halfway tucked into his pocket. "Where you off to?"

"Um....just, uh, gonna go visit my parents." You weren't really expecting him to pry, with how in your head you've been lately. But you're not gonna relent just cause one of the people who promised he'd love you forever, yet somehow can't be fucked enough to find the time to even watch a movie with you, asked you a question that remotely shows an ounce of concern.

"Your parents?" He blinks, shifting again to rest the bag on his hip. "You sure?"

That tone is so irritating. You used to love that almost parental sense of duty, the desire of his to know every detail of every problem so he can solve it. But now, you just feel suffocated, even though you're more distant from all of them now than you've ever been. "What, I'm not allowed to see my family?"

"Hey, that's not what I said! hold on," He moves to put the groceries inside, but you wave him off and start walking past him, your tone clearly frustrated as you encourage him to just forget it. But, in a tizzy, Steve hurriedly sets the bag down on the ground and runs to catch up with you, his hand descending on your arm only to be swatted away--but not for long, when he grabs it again and grips it tighter as he turns you to face him. "Jesus, wait! What's the big fuss? Did I do something?"

"Let me go, Steve." You refuse to look him in the eyes, but you can't break his grip. Why can't he just let it go, so it's less painful? "I don't wanna drag this out."

"Drag what out?" Finally, it dawns on him as his eyes dart from the keys clenched in your hand to the windows of your car parked in the driveway, boxes clearly piled up in the trunk and in the backseat that none of them seemed to notice you moving.

".....So that's it? You're breaking up with us?" Steve says it with disbelief, like he's expecting you to say something or anything different. It's almost a little satisfying when you respond in the way he never could have expected, even though he should've by now. Even though it feels bitter on your tongue as soon as it comes up.

"You know what? Yes. That's exactly it." You finally wrench your arm out of his grip, and each of those words sting as they come out, but you won't cry, you refuse to cry in front of Steve today. "I'm leaving tonight, and I'm never coming back to Hawkins again."

"Why?"

"Ask your new girlfriend."

"Who? Wait--Chrissy?" He shakes his head, and what comes out next is more cruel than you wanted to be--but he just won't get it, it won't happen unless you make them realize why they don't want you anymore.

"Wow, the jock has a brain! Well done, Stevie." He grimaces at once, and god, you wish it would all stuff itself back into your throat.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you being such a-"

"I know you're in love with her, Steve! For fuck's sakes, I'm not as stupid as you think I am!" You shout into the broken silence of the front lawn, wishing from the deepest reaches of your heart that this could all just be a horrible nightmare. Not reality. You don't want to be facing those big, soft eyes of Steve staring back at you in shock and pain, so you just turn your head and hope he doesn't see how much you're shaking.

"I get it, okay?! She's prettier than me, and nicer, and she doesn't have my fucking issues--and you guys clearly like her. It's like I don't even exist when she's around." You move aside to gesture towards your car, keys clutched in your hand so they won't fall or get taken from you, because you know Steve is reckless when he's upset. "None of you even noticed I was packing. Nancy fucking helped me put a box in yesterday."

Just then, both your heads turn at the sound of a car approaching--and just in time, you realize it's Eddie, his van's tires crunching the gravel of the long driveway as he pulls up to a stop beside your car. And lo and behold, sitting in the front seat with a smile on her face is her. Chrissy waves to you through the window, and as if your heart isn't in the process of shattering into shards that dig into your lungs, you raise your hand to acknowledge her back. You turn back to look at Steve one last time. Memorizing his face, because you know you won't ever see him again, as you take a few steps backward and hand him your parting words.

"Don't break her heart, Steve. It sucks."

With that, and with nothing but confliction reflecting back at you on his face, you turn on your heels and make your way around your car, bidding Eddie and Chrissy a stiff goodbye as they get out of the van and you get into your car. You reverse, roll back out of the driveway, and shift gears to start puttering down the road. And as soon as the house is out of your rearview mirror, that's when you feel those tears spilling out that won't stop until well after you pass the Leaving Hawkins sign on the side of the road.

A week into your new start in the city, you haven't gotten any more closure than when you left.

Living with your aunt isn't great, but it's something. The apartment is small, and you still haven't found a new job--you did call the Palace to inform them that you were quitting, though, to which you were greeted with nothing but indifference as you left a message on the answering machine. Figures that nobody in that town would miss me, you think, but you can't dwell on it for too long, because then you'll start thinking of them and it'll have you sobbing into your pillow again. Even worse is that you can't even fully express your pain to your family, your aunt, anybody--because they'll all think you're a freak, and it won't be surprising that your "relationship" ended so badly. You don't even really speak to your parents or your family in the first place, so you can't expect them to show you any sympathy. In fact, if they said anything to you, it would probably be that you should be glad it's over so you can live a normal life.

You don't want normal. You want your Robin talking your ear off about something gross for hours, you want Eddie burping into your ear and laughing, you want Nancy falling asleep on top of you and drooling on your chest, and Steve--you want Steve to come over while you're both on your breaks, talking with his mouth full and stealing bits of your lunch while kissing you in between each bite. You want that love back, you want it so badly it hurts, it hurts your heart every time something reminds you of them.

Maybe that's the worst part. That they don't want that anymore, they want someone that can share those memories with of that terrible tragedy, who knows how they feel and relates to those nightmares that wake them up in a cold sweat, who they can compare scars with and laugh with now that it's all over. They want someone scarred but beautiful, someone perfect, and you can never be that way no matter how hard you try. It explains why you haven't gotten a single phone call, or a letter, or anything since you left, and that treatment extends into your second week in Indy and right into the third. But it doesn't get any less painful, even when you get a job at a convenience store around the corner to busy yourself and help with the rent. Nor when you try going on a date or two, just to spend the whole dinner staring off into space as they talk and wondering what the people you loved are doing right now.

While you're behind the counter at work, your thoughts often drift back to that house by Maple Drive. The path around the back that leads into the woods, where Eddie would take you out for a smoke and to watch the stars for awhile--always with a walkie on hand, just in case, as Steve used to say. The pool that often sits empty, and sometimes you'd look out the window to see Nancy lifting up the cover on it to peek underneath, before breathing a visible sigh of relief and briskly walking away. Sometimes even in the middle of the night, creeping out the sliding glass door in her pajamas. And you remember that bed you often shared with Robin, who gets so clingy when she sleeps....and you wonder if she's sharing it with Chrissy now, if the cheerleader you always thought was such a nice girl is occupying the spot you thought would be yours forever.

Your brow furrows as you stock Camels on the shelf behind the counter, sliding each one into the perfect spot but feeling an itch of irritation when they don't line up. Is Eddie holding her right now? Is he coming up behind her every morning, and nuzzling his nose into her cheek as she stirs milk into her coffee? Is Nancy cuddling her and chatting her up about whatever project she has going on right now? Is Steve picking up her bag, and insisting she let her boyfriend hold the heavy stuff while she sits and looks pretty? They probably are. And they're probably much happier doing it with her, than they ever were with you.

Something thuds on the counter behind you, and you sigh without a sound as the gruff voice at your back asks for a pack while you're at it. Your fist squeezes around the box you've got in hand, and when you turn on your heels to toss it on to the tabletop and reach for the scanner, your eyes widen, and so do the ones on the moustached man that's towering in front of you with a petite woman at his side.

"Hop?"

You breathe out the name, trying to regain yourself as quick as you can--you're pretty used to keeping your tears back now, adjusted to having a straight face so nobody will pry or prod for your feelings. The former sheriff of your hometown that you used to duck out of sight from, laughing and hiding your goods with Eddie right behind you, is standing at your counter with a shocked expression, along with Joyce Byers who seems just as surprised to see you here. And with little else you can think of, you clear your throat and try to crack that tense silence.

"Uh...so, you two on vacation, or someth-"

"Are you fucking with me?"

Hopper cuts you off, hands bracing the edge of the counter as he looks you up and down, the two glass bottles of Coke getting shoved aside by him to fall over and roll across the counter as he reaches across the barrier to grab your arm. Without much struggle, because you have no clue what's going on, you allow the older man to yank your wrist up and turn it over, Joyce hurriedly pushing up your sleeve with her gaze pinned to your skin, like she's desperately searching for something that has nothing to do with your confused questions spilling out on top of each other.

When they've finally uncovered that patch of skin they were looking for, the two of them share a look between themselves, before finally looking back up to acknowledge how baffled and worried you are. It isn't until you scan down to see what they found that the pieces start coming together, the black ink of the tattoo Eddie gave you when you first started dating peeking out at you. It's just a thin, mid-sized black circle on your inner forearm, with five points reaching outward like a sun. But the detail of it has always enchanted you, Eddie's diligent stare as he inked it into your skin burned into your mind. You've considered getting it covered since then, but....you can't bring yourself to do it yet.

"I'll call it in," Hopper says cryptically, stepping back and turning away to bring out the walkie from his belt and start mumbling into it. In the meanwhile, you're left with his partner, and the lady you've practically grown up with since she babysat you a long time ago. You often forget that time, when you and Jonathan would run around her backyard with sticks and rocks to try and build your own castle, while his baby brother watched from the stairs and giggled at your antics. You were so young, and so carefree, it seemed....but it was a happy time, one of few before you met those four.

"Honey, you're alright?" Joyce's voice quivers, anxious for the answer, but you nod as soon as her question registers because you hate to see her like this.

"Ye...Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She circles round the counter, coming right in for a hug that you return without question. The squeeze is tight, like a mother's embrace upon returning home from a long time away, and you instantly feel a pinch of guilt for neglecting to include her in your plan to leave Hawkins. Now that you think about it, you really didn't tell anyone, except....

"-Kid, relax, we're coming there. No, do not get in your car, sit your ass down so you're there when we get back! Jesus," Hop gets more animated as he talks over the channel, and your hug splits as your head swivels towards the sound of a familiar voice through the static. Steve.

"Are they there? Let me talk to them! Please, Hopper, let me hear their voice-"

It's so frantic, desperate. The first time you've heard one of their voices in what feels like your whole life, and you have to struggle not to cave, bringing a shaky hand up over your mouth as you whisper a "What's going on?" to Joyce. And with your ears perked up, you can distinguish the background noise in the transmission--there are three other distinct voices, talking just as fearfully amongst themselves as they also try to get through to Hop. Nancy, Eddie, and Robin, each with as much indignation as Steve, who must be holding the other walkie.

"We're coming down right now, kid. Just try to calm down in the meantime." With that, Hopper shuts the antenna and gestures for you to follow him, the sweet woman at your side holding your arm as you obey him, like she's afraid you'll vanish if she lets go. You're led out of the light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead to Hop's truck parked by the curb--you at least have the sense to fumble with your keys and lock the front door before you leave--you let him open the door and sit yourself in the backseat, and shakily buckle yourself in as they get in front with promises to explain everything. Still struck dumb with shock to the point that it hasn't really registered that you just left work in the middle of your shift.

But you get an idea of what's happening when you turn your head, and catch a glimpse of a scattered stack of papers on the seat beside you out of your peripheral. Tentatively, as Hop starts up the ignition, your fingers brush over one of the nearest pages--and when you lift it up to survey it closer, the two of them notice you and share another sobering look between them. What's staring back at you is undeniably, unmistakably, a missing person's ad. And the picture is one you recognize immediately, because it's yours. Your photo, details of your last sighting, a description of your tattoo, a list of things for people to look out for....

"You really worried everyone back home, kid."

Suddenly, a bitterness rises up inside you, and the paper crumples slightly as you realize what's really happening. "I'm fine. I just...decided to get out of Hawkins."

"Yeah, well, maybe tell your roommates that, first."

"Hop-"

"They didn't care! I told Steve anyways, so what's the big fucking deal?" Even though Joyce flinches at you raising your voice, you can't be quiet right now. Anger is something you've been almost too numb to endure these last few weeks, but now you could just put your fist straight through Hopper's window--they put up such a fuss for what? To drag you back to that shitty inbred town in the sticks, just to make sure they didn't want you in the first place? It's bullshit.

"They sure as shit care!" Hop shouts right back, casting his signature scowl over his shoulder as he drives through semi-empty streets. It's so late, and so dark, it's unlikely there'll even be many pedestrians. "Do you realize how many times Nancy Wheeler has shown up on my doorstep, begging me to go on another search and rescue for you?! They're worried sick!"

"Why?"

There's silence for awhile, very tense silence, before you repeat your question that says much more than just that one word.

"....Because they thought you were gone. They thought you were there."

There. That's what he means--the other world, the Upside Down. The place you've never seen, only heard horror stories about and snatches of descriptions of when you comforted one of them during a night terror. The missing people, the murders, the experiments....they're all so hard to believe, but then again, you can't deny Will's remarkable return from the dead or Barbara Holland's coverup death, both of which you've been close enough to to know that there's no way they're just elaborate lies.

So they were worried you had died. That your disappearance wasn't of your own volition. They're going to be in for an unfortunate surprise, but by the tightly shut locks on Hopper's truck doors, you know there's no getting out of this until he brings you right back to drop you in their laps.

"We came here to look for you. Your mom finally told us you had an aunt in the city." Joyce offers you another piece to the puzzle, but your mind is still stuck on the fact that your ex-partners seemed so desperate over the walkie. They....they wouldn't want you to die, but that doesn't mean they want you. Figures that your parents would make it more difficult for two of the only people that even remotely have any concern for you too, they're probably profiting off all that glorious attention of having a missing child.

"I have a life here, now. I don't want to go back." Lies. You know it's all lies.

"Listen, kid, whatever happened with your friends, I promise it's not worth throwing in the towel. You've gotta see things through." Clearly it's not worth an argument, you'd rather save your energy at this point. You're gonna need plenty to face that hard conversation you know is coming, when you're gonna have to confirm to them directly that you're moving on. No more running away, or hiding from the problem. You have to face it.

"You don't know anything about me, or them."

The already long drive drags on even longer in the silence that follows, and you make a mental note to call your aunt when they get you back to Hawkins, so she doesn't freak out when she comes home to an empty apartment. You can imagine your manager's gonna call and cuss you out before firing you for leaving the store unattended, too, and you groan and let your head hit the seat behind you. Now you're gonna have to find another job, gonna have to explain to your aunt what you did....or maybe she won't even notice your absence, not until someone makes a fuss about it.

Your mind is left racing with so many thoughts and worries that the scenery passes by without note, the moon barely shining any light on the landscape, like it's all one huge plain with little dots for buildings and trees. Like one big hellscape, but it's numb and frozen over with nothing left but a mocking echo of the world that's no longer here. You don't even really recognize your surroundings until a couple hours have passed, and the Welcome To Hawkins sign zips by and has you sitting up in your seat. Just as you pass it, though, you think you see the glimmer of another set of headlights, a rarity on these quiet streets--and then your whole world shifts violently.

"Shit!" Hop curses as he swerves suddenly, and Joyce shrieks as you all nearly careen off the road and into the ditch, your head cracking against the window and bouncing off for you to clutch at it in pain. A groan is all you can get out when he calls back to you, the dizzy feeling making you a little sick, but as you lift your head and the truck rolls to a stop, you spot the culprit of that downright suicidal speed driving that nearly caused a head-on collision.

Your heart is pierced with a deep chill immediately. You'd recognize that van anywhere, and that curly mane of hair as the driver stumbles out his door even moreso. He's not hurt, just dazed--and for the moment, your brain doesn't immediately go to the question of why you should even care. As he stands there in the road, in the dark, Eddie's form is lit up by the headlights still shining without a flicker, but he doesn't flinch even when it must be glaring directly into his eyes, just holds a hand up to block it out. And when they meet yours as you lean over the console to see him, he doesn't wait a second, hurrying around the passenger's side of the truck to fumble for the handle of your door. With a click, and the light above you switching on as a beeping starts to emit from the vehicle, Eddie's suddenly cramming himself into the backseat with you--and there's tears already wetting his cheeks as he grabs you in a hug, gasping in a shaky lungful of breath like he's shocked he's really touching you. Crying and mumbling into your hair, Eddie buckles when you squeeze him back, falling victim to that desire in the deepest part of your soul that just wanted to hold him again.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it baby, I didn't--everything I said, I swear, I was being such a fucking moron-" He starts babbling from nowhere, and his voice itself is a comfort, having not heard it next to your ear for so long that it aches now.

"Eddie-"

"You're mine, okay?! You're my everything!" He cries, burying his face even deeper into your neck and inhaling whatever scent he can get. You're stunned into staying limp, letting his hands grab and squeeze at you wherever they land--his curly hair tickles your cheek and sticks to it, and that sensation alone drags tears up to the surface, only allowing them to spill when you hear him whispering those croaked pleas of "I love you, I love you, I love you" until you're crying right along with him. It's been so long since you heard it, you'd started believing it was never really true.

It takes minutes that feel like hours for you to both calm down enough to look at each other, your face cradled in Eddie's rough hands as he sniffles and murmurs a "You're so beautiful" so innocently sincere, that it instantly makes you wish you had never left. He smiles, and the world that seems so dark grows a little brighter around you. You're not even privy to the looks Joyce and Hopper are giving each other in the front seat, clearly a little surprised at the passion you two share that nobody else has ever seen. But they know. And when Eddie starts pulling you out of your seat with the promise to take you back, Hop only reminds him to drive safely before he allows you two to shut the truck's door and circle round the vehicle with Eddie's arm clinging to your waist. The air hits you, cool and dry, just like it always is in Hawkins. And when he opens your door for you and waits for you to clamber in, before getting in on the other side and fumbling contently with his keys, you're not sure you really know what to expect. He briefly elaborates that he'd gotten worried, and that he's just glad he spotted Hop's truck before he'd sped all the way out of Hawkins and missed you--but it doesn't last, because soon he's grabbing your thigh and sighing out a breath of relief.

"We'll talk about everything when we get home. For now, I just want to hold you." Eddie offers his hand to you, giving it a grateful squeeze when you slip yours into it and interlace your fingers together.

They'll all hate me for real, this time.

That's exactly how the drive goes, Eddie's shoulders relaxed even as he steers with one hand, and navigates while stealing glances over at you with relief written all over his face, and brings your hands up to kiss your knuckles every so often. But he's just one. The other three....your heart sinks as you run over that last conversation you had with Steve, the way you'd ignored Robin completely, and how you pretended everything was absolutely fine with Nancy up until the moment you left. And it somehow dawns on you only then--they thought you were gone, that you had been taken to the Upside Down, and your heart sinks as you watch the trees pass by in clusters while that dread creeps closer down the road that's so familiar.

Not even the comforting warmth of Eddie's hand could drive that thought out of your mind, even less so when he turns and you hit that patch of gravel that leads up the driveway. He'll stop soon, and you'll be facing the music....and when Eddie shifts into park, you sort of float from your seat to the walkway where you threw your feelings back into Steve's face, and up towards the front door that Eddie opens for you before you cross the threshold into the house. It does feel like home, and you don't want to lose it right on the welcome mat, so you blink away any tears that threaten to spill before you quietly follow him into the living room.

Three heads turn to look your way, too inundated in conversation around the coffee table to hear the door opening, but that stops the second their eyes land on you. Steve and Robin are the ones sitting closest to where you stand, but Nancy's the one that makes her way to you first, her lower lip already quivering enough to break into a sob as she crosses the patch of carpet to throw her arms around you. She's strong enough to grip you tight enough to hurt, but too weak to keep herself on her feet, and you end up sinking to the floor with her as your name floods out of her lungs on repeat, getting louder and louder and louder until she's wailing. You could swear the walls rattle with the volume she cries at, completely coming apart in your arms like you've never seen her do before.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" She shouts, yet her voice is like a child's, wobbling and whiny and so miserably pitiful that it pains you even to listen to it, especially when she's clutching you so close to her body--so afraid that you won't be there when she pulls away, so she refuses to. You don't have any right to cry when she's so distraught, but with your head over her shoulder, the other two watch your lips curve downwards and your eyes screw shut into a flood of tears that won't stop easily.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. I'm okay." You whimper, burying your face into her curls until your lips brush her jawline, and she shudders into each gentle, praiseworthy kiss that you press there. Up until her sobs subside, and she breaths a sigh of relief that you can feel from her chest against yours, each one sinking and rising into each other as you breathe along with her. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."

She shakes her head, and finally pulls herself back to look at you, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks when she gets a good look at you. Nancy touches your face, thumbs away your own tears--and you know she's not just looking at you, but the girl she lost so long ago, whose smile she sees in yours on those days she misses her the most dearly. "I never wanted you more when I thought you weren't coming back," She whispers back. "How could I not want you? I love you."

The kiss she lays upon your lips is breathtaking, shaking and sweet and just....everything. Everything you missed and craved like air and water and life.

You're already halfway into her embrace when she laughs out that half-hearted joke, walking back with you a couple steps when you throw yourself into it. And she squeezes you so tight, so hard, the kisses a flurry of needy, fluttering touches all over your face until she somehow finds your lips--and when she does, she makes that last one a kiss you won't shake off for days, the feeling tingling your lips even when she pulls away. Still rubbing that spot on your back that she knows is sensitive, Robin grips you in an even harder hug that nearly cracks your spine, and whispers into your ear: "I'm so happy you're here with me." before she kisses you one last time, last one, she swears, fingers crossed behind your back. But then, she takes notice to the man standing just a foot away--and she lets you go to turn you around, her fingertips grazing your arms as you finally face him.

"Yeah, she, uh....she cried, like, every night," Even as Robin says it and breaks the quiet, she herself is rubbing tears from her cheeks, trying to keep that smile going as you stand and Nancy loosens her hold. She moves aside for Eddie to lay his hands on her shoulders from behind, and keep her steady on her feet. "So did Steve. I told you he cries when we watch Princess Bride!"

"I-I....I didn't mean it, Steve. I never...I've never thought you were dumb." Your voice comes out as a whimper, fingers fiddling with each other as you endure that big, brown, wide-eyed stare.

"I know." He breathes, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wants to move, he's antsy, but he won't take another step. "I know, baby."

"Can I hug you?" Steve just nods, but his lip quivers and his features gain that pathetic, sad puppy look, because he was hoping and praying you would say those very words. Your heart soars as he meets your step forward and flings his strong arms tight around your body, crushing you with his huge stature but never loosening up. He instantly brings his hand up to cradle your head against his chest, kissing the crown of it with so much firmness that you know he's reaffirming you're really standing in front of him again.

"I shouldn't have let you leave. I should've slashed your damn tires." He chuckles along with you at the lighthearted crack at breaking the tension, until he chokes up again into a sob. "Nobody could ever replace you. And I swear, I'll never break your heart again."

Steve holds you for a long time, squeezing you and kissing you and brushing strands of hair from your eyes to just look at you, surveying the face of the love he feared he'd never get to cherish again. It's a long time coming, and when he's done, there are three other warm bodies in the room that need attention from the sweet thing they've been killing themselves over these last few weeks.

From there, they catch you up with what had happened in your absence. Steve had walked off to clear his head after you left, and hadn't returned until late in the day--burst through the front door during an unusually quiet dinner and sent them all into a panic, when he realized you really had left and you weren't coming back. The four of them had jumped into action to split up and look for you, Nancy contacted your parents and other family while Steve and Robin tried to find some hint of your whereabouts in the house, cracking open your drawers and notes and realizing how much of your stuff was missing. Meanwhile, Eddie had driven in circles round Hawkins and the outer city limits, trying to find any trace of your car in the dark with the help of passing streetlights.

When those attempts had failed after stretching out into the next day to mid-afternoon, and with your very unhelpful parents insisting they had no idea where you could've gone, that's when your partners had started printing out missing person's flyers and put in an official report with the sheriff's office. And, seemingly having forgotten that you were really the only one who ever checked the voicemail at work, your message tendering your resignation had been errantly erased by your manager--worrying them even further when they questioned him, because if you were really planning on moving away like you said, how could you not tell your employer? It wasn't like you. Their fears had only gotten stronger from there.

The worst had yet to come, though. Because when your car had been found on the side of the road way out in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles away from Hawkins and completely destroyed, the four of them had reached the point of no return. The plates had been torn off, but it was your exact make and model of car, and what were they supposed to believe? That it was just coincidence? That's what Hopper had tried to reassure them with, tried to insist that plenty of cars get found gutted out in the bush, but they couldn't be convinced that it was just some freak happenstance and delude themselves to think that you were fine and dandy somewhere else. The same thing had happened to Max's stepbrother, and they all knew how that had ended.

So started the search parties, the nights spent staying up and studying maps by lamplight, the microwave meals in place of home cooking and sleeping in shifts by the phone, waiting and hoping for some kind of clue to your whereabouts to appear. Finding you had become more important than eating, proper sleep, showering, or attention paid to anything aside from looking towards the horizon to see if you would magically walk back into their lives.

And all that time, you had believed nothing but that they couldn't care less where you were, or what you were doing. When in reality, they could think of nothing but you. That was what had led Eddie to nearly crash into you as you re-entered Hawkins, having been pacing the living room for those long hours after Hop's call until he just couldn't take it anymore--despite the other three trying to stop him, he had dashed out to his van and peeled out of the driveway like a lunatic, just for the slightest chance that he might be there when you needed help. It was so stupid, so reckless, and you'll remember that moment he came rushing around the side of the truck to get to you forever.

Despite them reassuring you about Chrissy, too, when the tears have dried--promising you she's nothing but a friend, and they would have no problems limiting her interaction with all of you from now on--you wave it away, smiling off your stupidity and letting them know that it's fine. You were just being dumb, acting crazy, but you're fine now. And Eddie's eyes narrow at that.

"You're not crazy." He murmurs absentmindedly, and says nothing more until he can slip away from your reunion, and reach the phone in the kitchen. While you're busy dealing with your other partner's crippling absence of affection, he taps his blunt nails into each button, numbly dialing the number he's memorized until the ringing starts and stops.

"Hey, Chris. Angel's back home."

"Oh, that's great! Oh...Eddie, I'm so happy for you. You must be relieved-"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Listen, no hard feelings, but....you're my friend, so I'm just gonna be straight. Don't come by the house anymore."

"I--what? Really? I....Eddie, I'm sorry, if I did something to upset you-"

"No, no, nothing you did. Well, not really. But I know how you feel, Chris, and I can't really ignore it anymore." He swallows deeply, and sucks on his teeth as he tries to think of some better way to say it. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feel the same. I never have, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like that might change."

"......So that's it?"

"That's it. We can still be friends, but we need space for awhile first, and I'm not gonna ignore you flirting with me anymore. I'm in love and it's not gonna change. Sorry."

"Can we at least talk about it, Eddie? Please? I'd rather talk this out in person."

"No. Bye, Chrissy."

He thuds the phone back on the receiver just a little too hard, and brings his hand up to rub at his neck and try and get the ache out. That didn't feel good, having to confront one of his very few friends with a truth he just wanted to ignore--but the sick feeling he has now can't even compare to how he felt when you were away, and it's an easy decision to make in that regard. He'd take you over her any day. It's a bit of a guilty feeling, but he knows it's the truth even if it hurts Chrissy's feelings, and he's happy even so.

"....Yeah, I missed you real bad, sweetheart. Don't you ever think I wouldn't....or else you are crazy."

"Eddie?" You call out from the living room, and following that sweet voice to its source, he feels himself light up at the sight of you settled back into the couch. Legs tucked up in Robin's lap, halfway into Steve and Nancy's, looking so comfortable and cute as you look up at him. You're where you belong. He's so distracted by the glee and relief of having you home, he didn't even realize how quiet it had been between you all until he came right back from his task. You say nothing more, just hold your arms out to him--and when he gets close enough, you capture him with those pretty eyes of yours, and melt away any ill feeling as you pull him into your chest.

#oh 🥲#recs!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

Text

a simple holiday favor

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: When there's a miscommunication about your relationship status, you ask Eddie to go to a family Christmas (Eve) party as your fake boyfriend.

Warnings: nsfw content; fake dating, sligt friends to lovers, jealous & possessive Eddie, reader's ex is at the party, soft!Eddie, Eddie also being a cheeky bastard, car sex, unprotected sex (pullout method), spanking, light choking, Eddie uses a knife to cut the reader's tights, fingering, & multiple orgasms

Word Count: 13.3k

A/N: Merry Christmas Eve :)

The house was beautifully decorated. It was every year—hundreds of lights hooked to the columns, railings, bushes, and roof. Music blasted from the interior, a tree was decorated in the window, and cars were parked all along the street behind you. Family, friends, people you’d met once years ago—they were all inside. Peers from school who’d connected with extended family members, old friends that lived up the road. People you were only interested in seeing on the rare occasion while running errands or attending classes.

The holiday season was great. Really. You loved it.

"Hey," a soft voice murmured. A hand tugged on your jacket. "It'll be fine. Let's go."

But you hated the expectations.

It'd been a goddamn battle trying to figure out how to save your ass this year. One miscommunication led to another and everyone inside your grandparents' house expected you to be showing up with a boyfriend. That included the long-term high school sweetheart ex that was invited every year, to every party. Francis was just as much of the family as your childhood friend Clara. And without her attendance this year, you sure as hell weren't going to walk into the house stag.

Not when they all thought you’d been spending the last few months with a boyfriend. Not a boy friend, that of which your mother had misspoken about. And in your defense, you had a good half dozen of boy friends. One of which you would’ve asked to attend with you—and it would’ve been fairly believable—but unfortunately, Steve had his own party to attend.

That left a total of one other eligible bachelor that proved a painfully difficult feat to ask a favor.

"A Christmas party over in rich suburbia?" Eddie looked up at you like you were crazy. The basket of cheese fries he picked at was just step one of the bribery plan. "As your sweet, adorable, loving boyfriend?"

"Listen, I know it's a lot to ask. I just…my whole family thinks I have this new boyfriend, and if I walk in alone, it's just going to be utter hell. More than it already is." You pushed the root beer float his way when the waiter sat it down. "You don't have to do anything except show up, eat the food, maybe smile once or twice, and then we can fuck off and hang out in the basement."

Eddie poked at the fries before taking a scoop full of vanilla ice cream and nodding his head. He had his hair pulled back for once, and he tapped his rings against the chilled mug.

“So, let me see if I got this shit straight. You want to bring me—of all people—to your judgy—your words—family’s house and pretend that I’m the catch of Hawkins?” He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “You really think that’s some grand idea that won’t blow up the instant I walk through that door?”

He peered back down at the float and dipped the spoon back into the ice cream. Poked at it until it started to break apart and mix into the rootbeer. His sleeve nudged the crinkly paper of the fry basket and he wrangled the plastic bendy straw into his mouth to take a sip of the soda.

“Let’s just shove aside my own disdain for that shit. Seriously, (Y/N), you really think that'll end well?" He scoffed and shook his head. "You're either that desperate and I'm your last resort, or maybe you got a recent head injury I don't know about."

There was no point in lying to Eddie—the bastard could read right through it nine times out of ten. Sure, if you could pass a lie off on someone else while he was around, he’d pat your shoulder and say, “wow, (Y/N), didn’t know you had it in you.” Spoken from experience when you’d gotten yourself, Eddie, and a few others out of a breaking and entering and trespassing charge when you’d decided to sneak into the public pool after hours.

But lying to his face was just slightly more detrimental than the next words out of your mouth.

"Steve's busy." You picked up a fry from your own basket, and you swore Eddie's jaw clenched. "So I went to the next best person I know."

Steve and Eddie were long on good terms after graduating. Still didn’t mean there wasn’t any residual distaste between them. It definitely didn’t help that you were a tad closer to Steve than you were with Eddie. But…it wasn’t exactly easy to hang out with Eddie when you and Steve worked together just about four days a week.

“I imagine Harrington would love it." Eddie glanced down and pulled a fry through a glob of cheese. "Dressing up in some ugly sweater, singing carols, laughing at shitty jokes, acting all lovey-dovey with you. Just beautiful sweethearts so in love.”

“Eddie.” You were trying not to laugh. It was definitely not the time to get sidetracked at the idea of you and Steve having to pretend you were in love. “I will owe you big time if you help me out with this. Seriously, just name the price. I really, really don’t want to show up alone.”

Eddie nodded as he went silent. He processed your words as a slice of apple pie was sat between you, two forks available. You picked up one and motioned to the other with it, waiting for him to take the first bite. It was slow—each one was. And it wasn't until the plate was empty when he finally responded.

“Fine.” He sat back, legs kicking out beneath the table. “But you get me exactly how I am. I’m not going to play some niche version of Harrington or some shit. And you will—owe me big, that is. Just haven’t decided what that is yet.”

You perked up and beamed. He looked like he was fighting a smile as you slid out of your side of the booth and went to his. He tried to put his hand to your forehead to stop you, but you already had your arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Thank you." He smelled like cigarettes, pine, and french fries. You didn't linger, pulling back as soon as Eddie's scowl became a verbal alright. "I'll call you with the final details. I'll have them by tonight or tomorrow, I think. But I can tell you now it's for sure on Christmas Eve around five or six. Usually goes until eleven-ish. Maybe midnight. Really depends."

“Wow, so they all extend their bedtimes for this, huh?” Eddie nudged the basket of fries aside as you leaned back and swatted his arm. “Ouch. Your family know you’re this violent?”

“Shut up.” You stood and plopped back into your side of the booth. “Now we just have to talk logistics.”

Logistics were fairly straightforward. Eddie didn't need to know anything about your family since you were sticking true to the standoffish aspect of your own personality. Sure, you talked with everyone there, but not as in-depth as everyone else was. You said hi, hello, Merry Christmas. Sometimes you reminisced on old memories and stories. Had food from the buffet spread, took pictures when asked, hummed to the music as others sang. But otherwise, it was usually just you and Clara hanging out down in the basement until your mother said it was time to go.

Your family was too judgy for you to hang around them the entire time. Your parents knew it, and the rest of your family simply chalked it up to you being anti-social but having good holiday spirit. It worked especially well once you and Francis started dating, and he came to the family events. He did all the talking—charmed everyone. To the point that they really wanted you two to end up together. Ring on your finger and all.

Except you'd split your junior year of high school after two years of dating, went to separate colleges, and only spoke to each other at whatever social gatherings you were both invited to. So it wasn't entirely wrong of Eddie to factor in his unique reputation into the equation when discussing how your family would react. But that was a moot point. You'd end up with so much pitying and family throwing Francis your way if you went alone that you'd probably drink yourself drunk, do something stupid, and then be mocked forever.

Showing up with Eddie…there wasn’t even a debate in the matter.

Especially not when you genuinely enjoyed spending time with him—mostly.

There was the one time you'd been talked into sneaking them into the public pool since you were working there as a lifeguard. The gang had begged you to let them in after hours when you were the only one left for closing after a scheduling mix-up. And despite your reservations, all it'd taken to get you to say yes was Eddie stopping by one night when your mother had needed your car and Nancy nor Steve could pick you up.

“Just tell them big bad Eddie Munson made you do it,” he cooed from the driver’s seat, a grin plastered on his face. “They’d believe you in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if that’ll slide.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Let me just tell my boss or the cops—probably both—that I succumbed to peer pressure from one guy.”

“Alright.” Eddie pulled into a gravel runoff on the road and put his hands on his lap. “Tell them I wouldn’t drive you home unless you agreed.”

You glanced up and peered at the turn into your neighborhood less than ten feet away. Beyond that, your house was just a few blocks away and around another corner.

“Yeah, really holding me hostage, aren’t you?” You reached for the door handle when Eddie reached across. One hand went to the back of your seat, the other on your elbow.

"Alright, alright, alright. Just…" He pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling of his van. You knew why the kids wanted it—they hadn't been able to all go to the pool together over the summer, and since school had started back up, they had no time to go when it wasn't on the packed, annoying, loud weekends. Why Eddie wanted it so badly was beyond you. "Please?"

Then the bastard pulled out a weapon you hadn’t been expecting. You’d seen them on Dustin. Hell, you’d seen them on Steve. But Eddie Munson turning those big brown eyes on you—all wide, desperate, and vulnerable, a silent beg for you to please say yes—that was an impossible feat. You tried to hold out—you really did—but the longer he stayed with his hand on your elbow, the pine of his cologne circling you, and those eyes just pleading…

“Fine.” You threw your hands up. “Fine. But you guys get an hour, that’s it. I’ll sneak you in while I clean up, I’ll take my time doing so and then when I’m done, you leave.”

Eddie smacked the back of your seat and sprung upright, turning his car back on and pulling onto the road.

“Yes." He grinned as he swerved into your neighborhood. "Real fucking sweet, you know that, (Y/N)?"

"Just shut up and take me home, guilt-tripper."

Less than a week later, you’d snuck the gang in, told them to shut up a few times as they splashed in the pool, and cleaned the facilities as slow as you ever had. Eddie popped in once to “pretend” to help by following you around and saying, “see, didn’t get in trouble. Easy.”

You just glared at him, throwing a rag his way when he leaned in a doorway as you sprayed down the showers. He had no qualms about watching you work, even if you were stuck doing so in your swimsuit. You, however, had some about him standing there in his black swim trunks, beer in his hand, ogling over the shotty work you were doing.

“Oh, please,” he said when you glared back at him, checking to see if he was still pointlessly standing there. “Don’t blow your whistle, lifeguard. I’d hate to be in trouble. I wasn’t running, I swear.”

“Piss off.” You snatched the rag from his hand and he backed out of the room with a smirk.

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded once. “You’re the authority here, baby.”

You flipped him off and stifled your laughter as his echoed down the building. It was a fairly solid thirty minutes after that—cleaning and praying nobody would do anything dumb in the pool while you weren't there. Finding them laughing as they dried off was the best possible position you could find them in when you finally finished your checklist.

That, until you sat your bag down momentarily and Eddie wrapped his arms around you and jumped into the pool with you.

"You asshole," was all that left you once you recovered from the sudden movement. You broke the surface of the water, Eddie's arms still around you, and you splashed him as best as you could in that position.

“See, guys?” Eddie beamed up at the group. “Told you I’d get her to jump in.”

It was all fun and games then until there was a flash of red and blue, and suddenly, your heart was in your throat. You were both already out of the pool by then, and when the cops came up to the gate, Eddie was walking toward it, a towel wrapped around him. The rest of the gang was already trying to come up with excuses that wouldn't get their parents informed.

But Eddie, with all his interactions with the cops, wasn't exactly in the best standing with them. Especially considering they greeted him with a very slow and expected tone used to say his name—full name—and how unsurprised they were to find him there.

"Sorry, officers," you butted in, both hands on Eddie's shoulders. "Is everything alright?"

Playing dumb worked well when you were shoving Eddie, of all people, behind you.

The interaction went how you expected. Some sly comments about you teenagers—despite you and Eddie being far post-graduate—thinking you owned the pool since you think you're so invincible. They weren't exactly fond of being corrected when you mentioned you worked there. They were less fond of you claiming you were teaching a swimming class after hours, with permission from your boss—that you didn't have, but they didn't need to know that.

It was a standoff and you stood your ground. It was luck that they decided to move on, reminding you to get home safe. And Eddie patted you on the back for lying to the cops’ face.

“Didn’t think you had it in you.” He leaned in after the rest of the group had started toward the cars. “Didn’t think pretty Miss (Y/N) broke any rules.”

“I snuck you in, didn’t I?” You cocked an unimpressed brow at him as he walked beside you. “Besides, I have a quiz in the morning. Can’t afford to get booked or some shit tonight. I need to ace it.”

Eddie laughed before nudging you with his shoulder.

That was back in August. Come December and you really wished Eddie had stayed that cheerful about favors. He hadn't—but he had showed up. In the end, that was all you needed—just someone there by your side as you walked up to the front door of your grandparents' house and held your breath.

The phone call the day after the bribery dinner had gone smoothly. You filled him in on everything he needed to know—official date, time, address, what he should expect. Lots of laughter, some weird comments that he should just nod his head and laugh along to, then lots and lots of food. You told him what you were wearing—a sweater and a skirt with some tights. He could wear whatever he wanted so long as it wasn't a band shirt or his Hellfire Club shirt.

You'd drive and pick him up to simplify things. Then you'd stay for about an hour—eat food, Eddie could drink if he wanted, then hang out in the basement until they wanted to go. Reluctantly, you warned him there might be a few weird comments about you and Francis—who Eddie made a very annoyed noise at. But he brushed off the possibility of said comments and said it would be whatever. Didn’t exactly matter much since you weren’t really dating.

He waited until you picked him up to say, “so they really invite that wet blanket of an ex to every big party?”

You just nodded as Eddie looked out the window. He was dressed in his leather jacket zipped up, a little black beanie, black jeans, and his white sneakers. He just looked like a warmer version of his normal self, which was expected. But his hair looked a bit more tamed, his rings had been polished, and he wore a red bracelet with his chain one.

“He…” You sucked in a slow breath as you pulled onto the main road. “My family really likes Francis. He was like…the picture-perfect high school sweetheart. Came to all the family stuff, brought me flowers all the time—brought my mom and grandma flowers. Was super romantic and all around the guy.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie scoffed as he fixed his rings. “That why you two split?”

“Yes, totally. He was so romantic that my heart simply couldn’t handle it.” You rolled your eyes. “No, we just drifted apart. He got close with someone else, I got distracted with school and focusing on college and stuff. We just…went our separate ways.”

“Not that separate,” he murmured under his breath and you smacked his arm.

“It is what it is, okay?” Francis wasn’t exactly a sore spot since you were never on bad terms. Well, not counting the few months he started dating someone else two days after you broke up—but that was years ago. “He’ll be there. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

“Mhm.” Eddie lolled his head to look at you. “And let me guess: you want me to play nice with him?”

"Odds are you won't even interact with him outside of a greeting." You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, hoping that was the case. "But…yes. Be nice. Please."

"We'll see," he said, his eyes dropping over you. Even if you weren't looking at him, you could feel him looking at you. "Nervous?"

“What?” You peered over at him like he was crazy and swatted at his feet when he started to put them on your dash. “What makes you say that?”

“You look it,” he said matter of factly. “You really sure you wanna walk in with me if you’re already nervous?”

"I'm…fine. I'll be fine. And yes, Eddie. Yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't have asked you if I hadn't wanted you here." You turned down into the neighborhood, and your breathing got a bit heavy as you saw the line of cars along the street. It wasn't just for your grandparents' house, but for all the parties happening along the street. "These things just stress me out a bit, that's all. Hanging out with everyone, that is. I'm fine."

“Alright.” He nodded, and soft Christmas music filled the silence as you parked.

The music remained even as you left your car. It played from nearby houses as you walked with Eddie a step behind you. It'd been a relatively short ride, but his complete lack of snide comments about the upper-middle-class neighborhood felt out of character.

"Hey," Eddie murmured as he came up behind you. His hand went to your jacket before he was tugging you toward the front door. "It'll be fine. Let's go."

You took a long, long breath as you stared up at the closed garage, the sea of lights, and finally up to the front door. Eddie didn't put much weight behind his pull, but you moved like he had. Skated up behind him as he settled in front of the door and waited until you reluctantly came up beside him.

Part of you contemplated just hanging outside in the snow. It was pretty out, and there were chairs on the front porch. Freezing—yes. But technically, you could still say you attended the party and you'd avoid any awkwardness with those inside.

Maybe if you hadn't asked Eddie to come with, you would've. But dragging Eddie all the way out there on Christmas Eve just to chicken out was a dick move.

“Ready?” Eddie asked. But he didn’t wait for a response before knocking loudly.

"Apparently, I am," you murmured and caught Eddie's smirk out of the corner of your eye.

A lot happened when the front door opened and your grandmother greeted you and Eddie with surprised glee. There was momentary confusion that Eddie clocked as quickly as you had when she looked at him. She tried to mask it as much as she could by the time her eyes were on you, but it'd been there. And, after she reached out and pulled you in for a hug and sidestepped to let you and Eddie in, you found yourself reaching for him.

You told yourself it was because you were feeling protective. Even if you were faking a romantic relationship, Eddie was still your friend. You weren’t going to stand by and let him feel like he wasn’t welcome at your grandma’s party. So, as casually as you could, you slid your hand into his.

Into his very, very warm and rough hand.

He cocked a brow as you practically tugged him in and made a sly glance down at where your fingers intertwined. You only broke apart to hand your jacket off. Well, yours and Eddie's, which you hadn't been expecting. His leather jacket was a staple part of his wardrobe. So when you watched him shrug it off and expose the red sweater he had on underneath that had a thick line of snowflakes across the chest, you just stared with wide eyes. You'd recognized that sweater in a heartbeat, and it was usually worn by a guy with shorter, lighter hair who had a habit of hitting on the more attractive customers in Family Video.

“Not a word,” Eddie murmured when he caught you staring.

He sufficiently silenced you when his hand slid back into yours, and he turned to your grandma, introducing himself as your boyfriend. It was a smooth, casual, and impressive move. A bright smile and semi-rosy cheeks from the cold as he gently squeezed your hand and looked at you like you'd been in love the last few months. It earned a soft aw from your grandma, but that was the only preparation and breather that came before the barrage of questions.

To you and to Eddie.

How did the two of you meet? How long had you really been together? Was Eddie in school? Was he enjoying the holidays? Oh, since he's not in school, what's he doing for work? The local music shop—that's cool, is that long-term? Does he have a big interest in music? He's in a band? He plays guitar? He plays what kind of music?

They were repeated a few times as you and Eddie—hand in hand—went from your grandma, your grandpa, your mom and dad, then other relatives. Your mom and dad knew you and Eddie were friends, and you'd told them ahead of time you were bringing him tonight, so out of all your family members, they were the laxest about it. Especially since your mother was well aware of the miscommunication and raised a glass when she saw you and Eddie holding hands.

Your grandma and grandpa, however, were obviously concerned with Eddie's lack of…traditional…choices.

Eddie just smiled and answered the questions honestly. You only heard every other word as his thumb ran along yours. Nice and slow, his eyes fixed on whoever was talking to him, but he just…kept moving his thumb. It was soothing and damn distracting.

By the time you'd cycled through the line of friends and family leading up to the buffet bar, you were exhausted. Eddie seemed a bit tired, but as he let go of your hand and passed you a holiday paper plate, he just smiled as you started to shovel food onto it.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you followed him. “They’re all…traditionalists.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He dropped a brownie on your plate after putting one on his. “Knew what I was getting into.”

“Is…that why you borrowed Steve’s sweater?” You reached up and pulled on the bottom. Eddie swatted your hand away and narrowed his eyes.

"Drop it, or I'm telling everyone the truth." He leaned in, an arm going around your shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head as some people passed behind you. You froze and felt your heart pound as he lingered close, his hand warm on your arm before he finally stepped back to grab a helping of stuffing. "Got it?"

"Yup. Got it," you squeaked, and Eddie grinned.

You found a small section to eat in, except it was pretty precarious because there was only one seat available by the closest thing to a table. You held Eddie's plate as he carried your sodas and sat them down on the little side table. Except when you went to offer Eddie the chair and stand beside him, he sat the drinks down and guided you to sit on his lap.

It wasn't exactly an uncommon sight given you had a cousin and his wife sitting the exact same way over on the couch. But they were married going on five years, and Eddie was…Eddie. So when you dropped to his lap with a soft yelp and a wide-eyed expression, a few curious glances were thrown your way.

It definitely didn’t help that you were wearing a skirt. It wasn’t too short, and you did have tights on beneath it, but you pressed your knees together instinctively, and Eddie chuckled beneath you. One hand went to your waist as the other grabbed your plate and handed it to you. He balanced his on the armrest and picked off the corners of the brownie.

"So, be honest," he whispered. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad am I doing, with one being the worst?"

You laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows, seemingly uncaring about those looking over at the two of you. Even when you caught a familiar head of red curly hair in the adjacent room that you ignored.

"I'd say…a solid three." You glanced back, and Eddie snickered behind his cup. "You were at a four before this."

“Before what?” His hand slid up your waist slightly. “Having my beautiful girlfriend sit on my lap?”

He batted his lashes at you, and you nearly choked on your bite of mac and cheese. His thumb moved up over your ribs and swiped along where the band of your bra felt tighter than normal. Each breath was constricting when he looked at you like that.

You kept pressing your knees together as his smirk remained even as he sat his cup down.

“Just…shut up, Munson.” You shot your best glare at him.

“Want me to give you the chair?” His thumb continued to glide over your ribs. “Want me to, uh, move my hand?”

You took another bite of your food—stuffing, that time. Took a sweet time chewing and swallowing. Even took a sip of your drink before answering. All to buy time in order to try and will yourself to say yes. But his hand was really warm and it’d be awkward if you got up now.

“No,” you said a bit sheepishly, and Eddie snickered.

“Mhm.”

You ate in relative silence. Sort of. You were mostly silent as a few other old friends and relatives came up and introduced themself to Eddie. Some even cracked a joke about how he was making you hang out with the family longer than you had at previous parties. Some digs about keeping you out of your grandparents' basement, some about how the only other person who achieved that was Francis.

And like a dog hearing their name, Francis and his curly red hair was coming up to the chair. Your plates were empty and cups getting there as he waved, his cheeks rosy and smile picture-perfect. It reminded you of Steve whenever he was trying to pick up women at Family Video.

"Hey, Francis," you said, a bit strained. You could've sworn Eddie's hand twitched on your waist. "Merry Christmas…Eve."

"Right back at you, (Y/N)." Frantic grinned as he raised his glass. "Gotta admit, never thought my path would cross with you again, Eddie. Long time, no see."

“You two know each other?” Your brows furrowed as you turned to look at Eddie. He seemed entirely unimpressed as he peered up at Francis.

“We had English together before I graduated,” Eddie said with a strained smile.

"Which senior year was that for you?" Francis scratched the back of his head, and it was like a screeching halt happened in the small group around you. It wasn't actually as bad as it felt when you turned your scrutinizing glare up at Francis. But he'd never been…like that. He was the guy who went out of his way to help students. Help others.

“Francis,” you scoffed as you sat up straighter.

"My second," Eddie said with a straight face. His hand snaked up over your shoulder, and he gently pulled you back. Not all the way to his chest, just enough to make you relax.

Well, relax as much as you could in that scenario.

"Right, yeah." Francis nodded. "Glad to see you finally graduated. I don't know how you managed that place for so long. I was ready to get out of there before I even got to my junior year."

You bit your cheek and looked down at the shiny gold buckle on Francis’ belt.

Junior year—what a great year for you. First half, your honeymoon phase was dying and Francis was drifting away at a faster rate than you were. Sure, focusing on your schoolwork came first, but still. Then shortly after, when Francis started tutoring this girl, Angie, you saw it coming even when you were busy studying for tests and writing up presentations.

“Can’t imagine that.” Eddie’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your shoulder. “Thought a guy like you had some pretty good things going on.”

The elephant was massive in the room. Like…turned into a disco ball covered in rainbow mirror plates, kind of massive. It wasn't exactly obvious to everyone. Only those who were around when Francis stopped showing up to parties for a few months before your grandma asked if she could invite him again. Since she "quite enjoyed the conversations about knitting with the handsome young man."

She'd been over the moon when he shared that his nana had taught him how to knit while growing up, so he had a soft love of it in his heart. And she latched onto that harder than you'd ever seen from her before.

“Okay.” You started to stand and grabbed Eddie’s hand, hoisting him to his feet with all your might. “Why don’t we go get a refill?”

"Sure." Eddie towered over Francis. He had a good five inches on him in height, and you just bit your lip as they stared silently at each other for a few lingering seconds. "So great seeing you again, Francis."

“Yeah, you too,” Francis said, voice short.

You jerked Eddie toward the drinks, snatching your empty cups up, and Eddie grabbed your dirty plates. He dropped them into a trashcan as you poured yourselves refills in silence, ignoring the blatant stares that were thrown your way.

That was as close to an altercation as you had ever gotten at those parties. Well, the ones at your grandma's house. People leaned toward trying to save face when around them. When it was elsewhere, and they weren’t around, then some petty arguments came out. From a broken glass at the last party all the way to some aunt being jealous that a cousin got into their child’s dream college. You stopped paying attention to those when they seemed to happen as you were always leaving parties.

"Want to go down in the basement?" You handed Eddie his cup.

"Nope." Eddie swooped over as he took it and hooked an arm around your waist. He tugged you close and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Nothing possessive. It just looked like a boyfriend saying thanks for the drink. "It is way too much fun watching that douche squirm.”

Eddie's eyes flickered over in the direction of Francis, and you resisted the urge to look over. Recovering from Eddie kissing your cheek took all of your focus anyway. Every ounce of it as your heart leaped to life. He could probably see it in your jugular as you tensed, trying to swallow the sudden nerves as his arm twitched around you.

“Eddie,” you breathed. “Contrary to whatever the hell went down there, Francis and I are on decent terms.”

"Yeah? Really?" He scoffed and leaned in. "Do I need to go over the two-minute conversation that just went down? You're the academic—I'm sure you can analyze it without my shit explanation."

"Alright, alright, just…" You bit your lip as he idly played with the zipper on the back of your skirt. "Play nice a little longer, then we can leave, okay?"

“Mhm.” He reached up and pinched your chin. “You still owe me, by the way.”

“Yeah.” You laughed as Eddie grabbed a clean paper plate. “I know, Munson.”

He fed you. Eddie goddamn Munson had you beside him at the dining room table, a plate of pie with one fork, and told you to open. You were so caught off guard that you did a perusal of the room to look for Francis, and even when he wasn't there, you still slowly opened your mouth. And Eddie fed you a bite of pie.

One bite, a second, and a third as you shared the slice.

His knees nudged yours as he scooted closer. You stared at his rings as he took a bite for himself and held your breath as he held the next one out for you. You leaned in and took it, avoiding eye contact as you did. The flavor hadn't dimmed over the last few bites, and you wiped the corner of your mouth with a napkin as you sat back and licked your lips.

“Oh,” came that voice you had once loved to hear as footsteps sounded behind you. Eddie cocked a brow and peered back as Francis seemed to magically appear between you. “Make sure you put extra whipped cream on it.”

He sat a bottle down on the table even though the slice of pie was mostly gone.

"It's (Y/N)'s favorite." Francis gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you choked on your sip of soda. The only time you two ever actively physically interacted with each other was when you were passing items at a dinner table. "I used to catch her sneaking some as a snack sometimes after school. It was always adorable seeing you get it on your nose."

"Right." Eddie tightened the fist he had resting on the table until the knuckles cracked. You mostly reached out for him because you were trying to recover after your failed attempt at drinking soda, but part of you thought he was about to lift the fist. And you couldn't have a full-blown fistfight break out at your grandparents'.

Well, it couldn’t when you were the cause of it.

"Want another piece of pie, (Y/N)? Your grandma just put out her apple." Francis' hand slid partway down your shoulder, and Eddie's eyes narrowed. His fist got tighter. "I can grab it for you if you'd like."

“No,” you said quickly. You hadn’t seen Eddie scowl like that since his high school days. “Uh, no, that’s okay. I think Eddie and I are heading out soon anyway.”

“Nonsense.” Francis tapped your back. “I’ll grab you both a slice. Hold on.”

Francis gave your shoulder one final squeeze before he disappeared into the living room. He was barely a step out before Eddie glanced over his shoulder and kept his brow cocked.

“Eddie. You okay over there?” You wiped your mouth with a napkin again and tried to meet his gaze. “You don’t…we’re just pretending. You don’t have to pretend to…like…I…”

“(Y/N).” He reached up and scratched his jaw. “A guy like me has got a reputation to uphold.”

“You think one party is going to change that?”

Eddie's hand dropped and he tapped his fingers on the tabletop. Did so for a long moment as he looked you over and his jaw clenched hard.

“Right.”

Francis came back with two plates of pie and the bastard—it was like a flashback to the past that you’d blocked out until then—dropped one plate in front of you and the other in front of Eddie. Then he had the audacity to put whipped cream on your slice and sit beside you. There was a corner of space between you, but he still picked up a fork and stole a bite from your slice of pie.

“Wow, Francis,” you said with a tight smile. “Thought you were only this ridiculous when we were teenagers.”

Francis glanced up as he took another bite and smirked.

It'd been shortly after you first started dating, and you'd gone out to the arcade together. A guy had come up while Francis was gone and started hitting on you. Hard. When Francis got back and found out what was going on, he threw his arms around you, nuzzled your neck, and started talking about how grateful he was to have you as a girlfriend. Went as far as to leave a hickey on your neck later that night so any guy who saw you after would know you were taken.

“I only had two hands, sorry.” He still took another bite of the pie you had yet to touch. “Just wanted a few bites.”

"Yeah, sure." You shoved the plate in front of him. You stole a look at Eddie, and his vein was popping in his neck. He was taking your pretend relationship fairly seriously. He was committing far more than you'd expected for one night. "Well, enjoy it."

Your leg bounced under the table as you tried to figure out a way out of the current scenario. But what the hell were you supposed to do with your family in the other room, Francis sitting there all smug, and Eddie looking like he wanted to break his nose.

If you made Eddie leave again, it'd just make it worse. If you and Eddie left the party, it'd look like you felt uncomfortable, and your attempt at showing off your new boyfriend failed. If you stayed…Eddie was definitely going to punch Francis.

“I’m sorry, I still can’t get over this.” Francis waved his fork between you and Eddie. “It’s like Hawkins’ most unlikely couple.”

“Hey, Francis?” You put your hands on the table and took a slow breath.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I swear.” Francis reached out and put his hand on yours. “I’m just glad to see you happy. I’m sure your family will warm up to him eventually.”

"Okay." You shoved Francis' hand off of yours. "Francis. I get that you're close with my family. And I get that my family has this weird friendship with you, but you're overstepping. Hard."

“I’m just saying…” He poked at the pie and you shoved the plate aside. It scraped against the table and caused a bit of noise.

“No. You’re not.” You glared at him as hard as you could in an effort not to raise your voice to yell. “You stopped getting a say in whatever I do after we broke up. Drop it, move on, and fuck off.”

You grabbed the bottle of whipped cream, the plate with Eddie’s slice of pie, his fork, and took Eddie’s hand. He said nothing as you hoisted him up and brought him out of the dining room and down a hallway to the basement entrance. Just the sounds of your footsteps echoed heavily down the steps until you were plopping on the couch and you were putting too much whipped cream on the pie.

You grabbed a forkful and held up the bite to Eddie. There was a moment of hesitation before he ate it, but if there was any hope of breaking the tension, he had to take the bite. So he did. Then you took one and offered him another.

So on and so forth until the plate was empty, and you and Eddie were sitting in pie-less silence.

"Told you." Eddie twisted one of his rings before pushing up from the couch and walking around the basement. From the old television, the couch, the chairs, table, desk, all the way to the old bed posted in the corner. An extra guest bed made up with an old Christmas quilt in case someone spent the night. "I was not the guy to bring if you wanted to impress.”

“Eddie, come on.”

“Look around, (Y/N).” He motioned to his sweater. “I’m wearing Harrington’s sweater for Christ’s sake.”

You pushed up from the couch and went over slowly. Eddie pulled his beanie off and tossed it onto the bed. He tugged on the sweater, but the clear sign of nothing underneath it stopped him from doing so. It did show off the new tattoo Eddie had gotten along his rib. Just a flash of a mace and a spider web. An intricate design you hadn't ever gotten a good look at.

"Don't let that idiot get you worked up, Eddie. He's just trying to be a territorial asshole." You flattened the sweater down as his hands fell by his side. His breathing was rapid beneath your palms as they slid over his chest and stomach. The sweater was softer than you expected, and you stayed a bit longer even after the wrinkles were gone. "I don't know what the fuck he was thinking, but he…he's just being an ass to be an ass. It's got nothing to do with you."

“You really think that?”

"I think Francis has the emotional maturity of a child, and when he sees someone cooler playing with his toy and like rubbing it in his face, he gets jealous." You pursed your lips and laughed softly. "Just swap 'toy' for 'girlfriend,' and then we're good. That feels better than an inanimate object."

Eddie laughed and ran a hand over his face. His hair tangled and poofed as he did a full 360. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave you a look like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said.

“What?”

“That?” Eddie pointed to the door upstairs. “That wasn’t me ‘playing.’ That was basic boyfriend shit. Would’ve done that shit anywhere. I wasn’t rubbing it in anyone’s face. I was just trying to play the ‘boyfriend’ role in a way your family would believe it. Tried to keep it modest and shit.”

“I didn’t…” You scrunched your nose. “I didn’t mean that you were rubbing it in his face. I just meant he probably saw it like that.”

“If I was rubbing it in his face, it would’ve been a hell of a lot different.” Eddie held up a hand. “Okay? And if we were actually here together, like, you know, Francis would’ve backed off before we walked away from the chair.”

"Really? He would've, or you would've made him?" You crossed your arms. "Cause you looked real close to hitting him just five minutes ago in my grandparent’s dining room.”

"You want the truth?" Eddie matched you, crossing his arms over his chest. "Seriously?"

“Shoot.”

"No, I wouldn't hit him. Not here." Eddie gave you a teasing smile, and you rolled your eyes.

He laughed as he ran a hand through his hair and winced as his fingers caught on the tangled ends. They combed out with some effort, and you just flattened out your skirt as you heard people move upstairs. Your name was called as you heard the familiar squeaking of the floor before the basement door was opened.

Francis, of all people, called your name again, and you instinctively started to move toward the stairs to tell him to fuck off, but were stopped by a hand on your elbow.

You staggered back as Eddie gently tugged you. You looked at him like he was crazy before his hand was on your cheek, and the edge of the mattress was pressing into the back of your legs.

It was no more than a few seconds of adjusting to the sudden feeling of Eddie's mouth on yours. But as soon as you registered them—soft and tasted as sweet as the apple pie—you were grabbing onto his shoulders to steady yourself. Grabbed fistfuls of his—technically Steve's—sweater and jerked him closer, bunching the fabric up in your hands.

It was a chaste kiss. A prolonged peck, really. But you could feel Eddie holding himself back as his hands twitched and his tongue grazed your bottom lip just before retreating. And the instant you noticed it, it was like your body was acting on its own, and you were fueled by adrenaline. Even when you knew Francis was coming down the stairs and the basement door was left wide open.

You wrapped your arms around Eddie’s neck first, then you went to deepen the kiss. It probably would’ve been smarter to tell yourself that this was just so Eddie could get a shot in on Francis, but Eddie was a damn good kisser. He even stole a soft sigh when you tugged his hair and he switched into sniper mode. Aimed to kill as his hands went to your waist and he had you flush against him, kissing you like it was the only thing he’d wanted to do that night.

For added benefit—for his and only his, so you told yourself—you tugged up on the back of the sweater. It was halfway up his back when Francis got to a section of the stairs where he could see, and he stopped. He blew out a long breath, but when you expected Eddie to part, you tugged him back and felt the world move before your back hit the mattress.

"Busy, Francis," you choked out before Eddie could speak. If he even intended to as a knee found itself between your legs.

“Right. Yup.”

You heard Francis' defeated footsteps and the soft closing of the basement door as Eddie kissed you drunk. Even as Francis got out of view, even as the door shut, even as the soft Christmas music filled the space. Only when you heard some attendees start singing did the kiss break, and Eddie lifted his head.

“That.” His fingers toyed with the top of your skirt. “That’s what I meant.”

Catching your breath was an impossible feat as you peered up at Eddie. His eyes were so dark and vast, his cheeks a slight pink and his mouth parted. He licked the corner and let out a careful, uneven breath as his knees pressed into the bed.

“Count that as the favor,” he murmured. “We’re squared for the night.”

He pushed up as the footsteps upstairs receded into the crowded rooms. The singing got louder and hid the soft squeak of the bed as Eddie slid off of you. He cleared his throat as he sat on the edge of the bed and blindly fixed his hair. A hand through it, straightening and then slightly tossing his bangs, going down and adjusting his rings and then bracelets. Flattened out the sweater and wiped his palms on his thighs.

You just stayed there and watched. Your mouth gaped as you stared at his back.

Eddie kissed you. Sure, it was for the lie and to rub it in Francis’ face, but you’d kissed him back. Why had you kissed him back? Why had you tugged him down onto the bed? Why, why, why did you have the growing urge to pull him back to where he was?

“Really?” You tried to breathe evenly as you sat up slightly. “That’s what you’d do?”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, brows pinched and raised as he gave you a crooked smile. His cheeks were still dusted pink, and he shrugged before looking back down at his lap.

“Sorta.” He spun one of his rings. “Depended on how modest my girl wanted to be. That was pretty tame for what I’d actually do.”

"Really?" You scoffed and rubbed the back of your head. "That type of…reaction is reserved for the modest fake boyfriend scenario?”

“Mhm.” Eddie nodded and leaned back on his hands. “It is.”

"Wow." You sat up slowly and scooted to sit beside him. Your thighs touched, and Eddie's eyes went to yours. "And here I thought 'makeout on a bed' was considered…raunchy."

Eddie chuckled and cracked his knuckles. Moved slowly from one to the other as he shrugged again.

"'Course you would." His grin grew. "A kiss on the cheek would be considered raunchy when you're in here.”

“What, a basement? If anything, I’d say that has the opposite effect.”

“Nah.” Eddie waved up to the ceiling. “Where you could get caught by anyone from your family. If sitting on my lap made you antsy, I can only imagine how getting it on downstairs would feel.”

Eddie looked back over the full-sized bed. Those big brown eyes drew over the Christmas throw pillows set out, and he ran his hand over the snowflake quilt underneath him.

You crossed your legs at the sudden image of it. Beneath the covers, mouths locked, moans soft as you prayed nobody would walk down and see you. The only problem was Eddie was the guy in the image with you. And every imaginary kiss along your jaw was starting to make you question if you'd accidentally poured some liquor into your drinks earlier.

“Really? You’d go that far with it?” Your laugh was a bit dry as you nervously peered at Eddie. “You’d skip the makeout step and go right to…that…just to prove a point to some idiot ex?”

“Nah, not that far. Nobody gets to see my girl like that except me.” Eddie kept his eyes on the basement door as he took a slow breath. You watched his chest expand and contract. “A middle ground between those two, though? Definitely. Make sure he knows he’s got no chance.”

“Wow, Eddie.” You nudged his shoulder with yours. “I had no idea you were so possessive.”

He just shrugged. No hum, no grunt—just a small shrug as he played with the band on his watch.

“Alright, answer me this.” You weren’t sure why you were talking, but you couldn’t stand the silence. Nor the general curiosity that came with Eddie’s words. It was a pretty dumb question, especially cause it could make things a bit awkward. But you’d already kissed, so that ship had long sailed. “If we were actually dating, what would you have done differently? You know, like the second we walked through the front door.”

"Seriously?" Eddie chuckled and glanced over. That crooked grin was back. "You think I'd act differently? I was giving you the Eddie Munson dating experience, baby."

“Well, I don’t know. I just…I mean we’re friends. I didn’t know if you were acting a certain way with that in mind.”

Eddie nodded a bit and blew out a breath.

“Wayne would’ve been here, for one. If I was dragged along, he would’ve been, too. Then he could play nice while you and I ran off. Sure, I’d play the boyfriend role as much as you wanted me to—gotta do that for a girl as sweet as you. Probably would do anything you wanted me to if we were actually together.” He peered around the basement and pointed at the couch. “Would’ve gone over there with some food. Eaten. Relaxed. Drank a bit. Remind Francis who you’re with now. Then…”

“Then?” Your heart was racing fast in your chest. Just thump after rapid thump as you listened to his half-whispered words.

“Think you know what comes after. Especially if you’re in that skirt?” He blew out an exaggerated breath. “Only if you wanted to, ‘course. But pretty sure that speaks for itself. But…you know, call me dumb but after a guy acts like that toward my girl, makes me just want to…I don’t know, remind her how much she means to me. In a lot of ways.”

He leaned forward and nodded at the can of whipped cream on the coffee table.

“Would’ve found a hell of a better way to use that, too.”

You stared at Eddie, heart stuttering as you tried to steady it. Steady that, your breathing, your everything. Your knees pushed together as you shifted to face him a bit more, watching him scratch his jaw. He was trying to look nonchalant—a very, very clear attempt—but an accidental swipe of his hair showed the tips of his ears red. A bright, burning, adorable red.

"Really?" You could hear how strained your voice was and Eddie's instant shift of his eyes to you told you he did too. He tipped his chin up slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "If we were actually dating, you'd actually do all that?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, (Y/N)," Eddie said, his voice strained. Nowhere near as bad as yours, but you could hear it. It was like a dial had been nudged, and his vocal cords had tightened. "But you're…you're damn gorgeous. Could bring a lot of guys to their knees with just a look."

“Flatterer,” you blurted when you realized you had no retort. Absolutely nothing when Eddie looked at you exactly how he was. At least the sudden expression of a strained word earned a laugh.

"Nah, sorry." He scoffed and shook his head. "Trust me, it's annoying. A rich girl like you being as great as you are? A tragedy. Goes against everything I believe."

“Oh, does it?” You nudged him again. Shoulder to shoulder. “Is that why you agreed to help me out tonight? Or why you’d been friends with me the past, what, two years? Cause you hate me so much?”

"Nah." Eddie's exhale was shaky, and he kept his eyes on his hands. They folded and unfolded. He pointlessly fixed his rings and ran his thumb over his palm. "The opposite, actually."

Your laugh was cut short and you coughed, staring at Eddie as he kept his eyes on his lap. There wasn’t a vulnerability there—but he was holding himself still. Like he was waiting. A rejection—that’s what he was waiting for. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to the point of recognizing it as you just gawked at him.

It wasn’t like you and Eddie were ever on bad terms. Yeah, he didn't like your family, but you had no ill will toward him for that. But it still kind of kept you two away from each other for a while before he got really close with the gang, and then suddenly, you and Eddie were going from hanging out in a group to one on one. Seeing movies, going out late to places the younger kids couldn't go, and hitting up the arcade on school nights. It wasn't a common occurrence, but it still happened.

But it never…Eddie never…you never thought he liked you that much.

"We should go," he murmured. "Before Francis tells someone what it looked like we were doing down here, and your grandma thinks I was ravishing her grandkid on Christmas Eve."

“Right,” you breathed and watched a bit helplessly as Eddie stood and grabbed his beanie. It was pulled over his head before he grabbed the whipped cream can and your empty pie plate.

Reluctantly, you followed him. Up the stairs, toward the trash can and buffet table where the whipped cream was deposited. His hand slid into yours as you found your grandparents and parents to say goodnight. Mentioned you'd see your parents back at home later, and ignored Francis' curious look from across the room as Eddie helped you put your coat on.

Merry Christmas was said on your way out, but the second the front door shut behind you, it was utter silence. Painful, agonizing, awkward silence as snow crunched beneath your boots. The winter wind pierced through your tights easily with each step toward your car. Each one that couldn’t get you there fast enough.

Eddie seemed unbothered by the cold. Didn’t shiver once—somehow—even when he pulled his hat off and plopped it on your head. Tugged it down and snagged your keys from your hand. Before you could protest, he was getting the passenger door and waving for you to get in.

You went in without an argument, pulling your feet up as much as you could to try and get warm. Didn't matter how much your skirt showed off. Warmth was more important than flashing Eddie some black tights. They were dark enough that with the little light in the car, he'd never see your red underwear.

You huddled more into yourself as he started your car and pulled out toward his neighborhood.

What the hell were you supposed to do with that information? It was a bit like whiplash as you worked through thought after thought. Even more so when you realized that, upon the initial shock, your reaction to his little confession was excitement. A strange mix of relief and adrenaline as well. Some guilt upon realizing you'd asked him to play your fake boyfriend when he liked you…like that.

And all things factored in, there was the blaring issue that if Eddie had wanted to…get frisky down in the basement when he was kissing you on the bed, you realized you would’ve continued it. Or, no. You wanted it.

The ache between your legs was prominent as you peered at Eddie and thought about what the two of you could’ve been doing if it hadn’t been fake. Which was getting more and more dangerous with every passing mile. It wasn’t like Eddie was expecting a response—he hadn’t asked you out, he hadn’t asked to kiss you, he hadn’t asked if the feelings were reciprocated. It was a confession that was said in the moment and then expected to be forgotten about by the next interaction.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. There was no way in hell you were just going to put that behind you. No way you were going to pretend the whole evening hadn’t happened. Not outside whatever jokes Eddie would tell about the evening when inevitably asked why he needed Steve’s sweater. Eddie would just laugh and joke and carry on like nothing happened, but you…did you really want to do that?

It was a huge answer to come to terms with. A relationship-changing one. One that Eddie had already taken the step to change, even if it was meant to be left in the basement at your grandma's.

But as Eddie pulled in front of his trailer, you couldn’t leave it there. It was tattooed into you like all the dark ink on Eddie.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” Eddie murmured as he put your car into park. “We’re totally square for the night, ‘kay? I’ll see you later.”

You acted on impulse. A clumsy one that was jerking Eddie back into the seat as he started to open your driver’s door. He let out a soft oof as he was pulled back and your door half closed, leaving the car light on above you.

It was a wrangle getting him to look at you how you wanted, and your teeth clacked a tad as you pushed yourself over the center console. But the second your mouths connected, Eddie was shifting in the seat and throwing his arms around you. That was a lie—it was one arm around you, the other went underneath the seat, and he pulled on the bar to push the seat back.

He had to when you continued over and aimed to straddle his lap.

"What are you doing, (Y/N)?" He asked when you found yourself successfully atop him. His mouth was still pressed to yours, the question almost rhetorical as he skated his hands over your thighs, hips, and waist. He didn't stop kissing you even for a second.

“Shut up.” Your hands skated over his jaw and went into his hair. His grin was wide before his tongue was against yours. A deeper, more desperate kiss than what’d been in the basement. As if he’d been genuinely holding back then and he was using now to show you how badly he’d been wanting to kiss you. “Just kiss me, Eddie.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He did a lot more than that. He nipped at your bottom lip when you rolled your hips and sighed. Stole kisses along your jaw and moved your jacket so he could do so over your neck. Down and down and down as he made your breathing increase and your thighs tighten around him.

You hung your head as you huffed. Huffed so much as you clawed at his scalp and whimpered when he sucked what was going to be an obvious hickey on your neck. It was just underneath the collar of your shirt and you had zero care if he just wanted to jerk the shirt down to leave more searing kisses.

“I need to go in,” he said as his hands skated up once more, taking your sweater with it and exposing your stomach. “I need to. Now.”

You could feel the exact reason why beneath you. Right between your legs. A hard tent in his pants.

“Little longer,” you begged. You couldn’t get enough of his hands on you. “Stay a little longer. Please.”

You gasped as his teeth dug into your shoulder, and he grabbed tight fistfuls of your shirt. Tight enough to pull it taut around you and stretching it out. He had to pry his fingers up as he moved them down to your thighs instead, but that was as dangerous of a game when your skirt started to bunch, and Eddie's hands shook.

“Please,” he grunted in your ear. “You gotta know this is a special kinda torture for me.”

He dug his fingers into your thighs as his hands started to skate higher over them. It was his own way of anchoring them in place.

“If this is all this is, shit—would’ve preferred to sulk out of the car. (Y/N), you…” He pressed his mouth into your neck and licked up your jugular before sinking his teeth into the tender skin. Just enough to make you squirm and gasp, holding him close and accidentally grinding your hips against him. “If you’re just fucking with me, let a poor man live. Christ.”

Talking wasn't exactly possible as you hung your head. He'd practically taken that ability from you for the moment, so you did the only thing you could think of. You lifted from his lap just enough to reach down and clawed at his jeans. He cursed next to your ear as you managed to get them unbuttoned and unzipped, and your name left him frantically as you lowered yourself down. You choked on your gasp as you started to grind yourself against the bulge in his red boxers.

One hand was on the back of his neck, and the other went to the armrest as you closed your eyes and moved your hips. It took a second to find the spot that had your mouth hanging open, and Eddie, as soon as your whimpers started to leave you and you tightened your hold on his hair, melted. Well, sort of.

He was awe-struck for a few seconds as you so clearly chased for more. But when he recovered, the man was suave. Despite seeing the bastard drop things you'd seen him holding with a firm grip or even tripping over his own feet, he managed to move swiftly enough that it looked like a blessing. And one was needed as he shoved you back and nearly set your horn off, fishing into the pocket of his jacket and grabbing out a small knife.

Your voice caught with his name as he hoisted your skirt up and grabbed a fistful of the tights. He jerked them away from you and brought the tip of the blade through the thin material, closing it the second it started to split and used his hands to rip them open the rest of the way.

You were a goddamn panting mess as you sat there, watching just as awe-struck as he had been as his eyes fell to your red underwear. Your very, very damp underwear.

It was a silent look as your eyes met, and you were being pulled forward, mouth going back to him as a hand slid between your legs. His palm was warm against you, and you ground yourself against it before he was pulling your underwear aside and smirking against you. That cocky, egotistical smirk of his as he tested one relatively cold finger that had you falling against him.

Languid movements as he looked for the spot that had you clinging to him. That led to his finger curling and brushing against the spongy, sensitive spot. He nipped at your jaw as he added a second finger, whispering your name as you tried to grind your clit against his palm. He let you, applying more pressure and making you see stars even through the steam that was starting to fill your car.

“So pretty,” he muttered in your ear. “So goddamn pretty.”

It felt like a dream as you started to feel your orgasm build. There was no way you were actually straddling Eddie, his fingers plunging into you while you were grinding against his hand like nobody's ever touched you before. But it felt so good—you wanted every ounce you could get from him as the sounds of his fingers squelched in the small space. Even as the car started to rock and Wayne was obviously home.

It was coming too fast. You knew it was, and Eddie's growing smirk was evidence that he knew it too. It was a gust of confidence to his ego as your thighs twitched, and you grabbed onto him as if he were your anchor. But it felt too good, and you wanted to cum so badly. Repercussions be damned—you'd already crossed the bridge, and it was crumbling away behind you. There was no going back as your walls fluttered around Eddie's fingers, and you ached for more and more attention on your clit.

His name left you in a broken plea as your hips stuttered and he moved his hand to do the grinding for you. Had you turning into a goddamn puddle as the pleasure twisted and twisted and twisted until you felt like you were going to snap and you were burying your face in his neck.

More, more, more was all you wanted as you stifled your gasp against him. More of him, more of the peaking pleasure as his fingers plunged into you, more of every bit of him as your body trembled. You couldn’t breathe properly as he finger fucked you through your orgasm, smiling as he kissed the side of your head, telling you how pretty you sounded when you came. Little teases that pushed you over and over as you shivered, dripping down his fingers and surely leaving a wet spot on his boxers.

There was a brief pause when you started to relax. A clarity that started to hit the car as Eddie slowed his fingers before pulling them out. One that was instantly wiped as he brought them to his mouth, and you watched with a feral wave pushing through you as he licked them clean. Such a simple action, but as he hummed, his eyes flickering up to yours as his hand skated over your thigh, you found yourself reaching for his jaw the second his mouth was free.

That did things to Eddie that had him groaning loud against your mouth and his hips rutted up. You were reaching down as you tasted yourself on his tongue, pulling his erection out of his boxers, and Eddie slammed a hand down on the armrest as you pumped him a few times. Your name was a question as you pulled back and glanced down, biting your lip as you moved your underwear aside once more.

“You really want to?” His head was back against the headrest and he looked like he was in pain asking that. “We don’t…you don’t gotta…we—Christ.”

You slowly sank down on his cock, and Eddie looked somewhere between pure bliss and extreme pain. Until you realized he was holding himself back. The same way he'd been in the basement. He had fistfuls of your skirt as you dropped your head forward and took a few gasping breaths as he stretched you. Fucking stuffed you like you had your damn stockings back home. Except this was exponentially better.

“Please,” he croaked out. “Please move.”

His hands skated over your thighs and up to your hips. You waited until you felt his fingers dig into you before slowly rising and sinking back down. Your attempt at setting a pace was met with Eddie's frantic guidance, his hips meeting you halfway and your whole car creaking as he fucked up into you. Desperate thrusts as he kissed your neck. Kissed whatever parts of you he could get to.

That included jerking your sweater up, your bra half-assed with it, and his mouth going to your chest. He drew his teeth and tongue over your nipples, licking and sucking as you lost yourself in him. Every deep thrust, every warm drag of his tongue. Over and over as you bounced on his cock, silently begging for more and more. He just felt so damn good—better than you could've imagined. When he was hitting the spot that had you clawing at his arms, it was hard not to think that.

Then he did something that had your eyes jerking open for a second. One hand on your hips balled up your skirt as the other came down and smacked your ass. You yelped into his neck, and Eddie tested it again. A bit harder, and you felt yourself tense around his cock.

"You like that?" It was a genuine question, whispered in your ear, his voice as desperate as you felt. You nodded as a warmth flooded your face, and Eddie laughed in disbelief. "'Course you do."

He spanked you again and groaned when you tensed around him, his next thrust deep and hard. They continued that way until your thighs were back to shaking, and you were both panting, sweaty, and barely hanging on. Every smack of his hand against your ass rang out in the small space louder than it was, and your ass stung from where he hit you, but he soothed each one with his palm as best as he could as you bounced and bounced and bounced. All until you had tears in your eyes and you were letting out quiet begs because you were so close.

Like right there. You just needed a little more. Just a tiny, tiny bit more.

“Please, Eddie. Please. I’m…please. Please.”

Eddie’s solution brought his hand to your throat. He whispered a quiet trust me when you squeaked out his name again, and he gave you a light amount of pressure. Not enough to cut off airflow, but you could still feel his rings digging into your neck. He reangled his hips, so your clit got more attention, and as the pressure was split between the tightening grip on your throat, each graze against your clit, and every deep thrust, you were gone.

Lost to the world as a sudden snap ripped through you, and you were clawing the sweater up and digging your nails into Eddie's back. He kissed you as you shook, your body twisting and turning in the best possible ways as you came, not caring that you were crying as you moaned. They were hot tears as you came over his cock, gushing and squeezing, shivering and gasping.

Then Eddie was pulling out, cursing as he moved you back and apologized—that bastard was apologizing as you felt your walls convulsing around nothing. He dropped his head back and clamped his eyes shut as he fisted his cock and came. Right over your cunt, the hot spurts covering you and your underwear as he frantically jerked himself off.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck." His whole body tensed, and his jaw clenched hard.

You just stared down, mouth parted, as he covered you in his cum. And when he finally started to relax, slowly letting go of his cock and opening his eyes, he looked feral all over again when he saw you. His face hardened as he licked his lips, looking down right exactly where you were and he cursed again.

He reached out and laid his hand flat against you, his thumb dropping down and rubbing your clit. Your eyes shut as he ran slow circles around. Ones that glided easily over the swollen nerves from how you still dripped from your thighs. Every complete circle around it had you twitching, legs opening as much as they could as he silently rubbed it.

You were sure you could cum again from it, but when you felt Eddie's fingers pressed into you, that answer changed to a certainty. His thumb moved a little faster and his fingers curled exactly how you needed them to. Eddie was clearly on a mission as he finger-fucked you. A quick peek showed his eyes glued to your cunt, a serious expression as he licked his bottom lip.

You didn’t last. You almost set your horn off again as your back arched and you reached up, pressing a hand to your ceiling as you came again. A tight, fluttering squeeze around his fingers as he let out a shuddering breath. You gushed again, and Eddie kept his hand right there as your hips twitched and thighs tensed, wetness soaking your tights, his pants, and your underwear. Your skirt underneath was a casualty as well.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he finally said when you couldn't take it anymore and Eddie pulled his hands back. "Fucking goddamn."

“Sorry,” you muttered, voice broken. “Got a bit carried away.”

"You'll hear zero complaints from me." His eyes dropped down to your cunt again, and you fought the urge to cover yourself. "Absolutely fucking zero.”

“I…” You reached down slowly and pulled your underwear back. Eddie grabbed your hand before you pulled your skirt down and he fished into his back pocket for his folded handkerchief. You would’ve laughed if you had the energy—he never went anywhere without that thing. “I couldn’t let you leave like that.”

“Like what?” He drew the handkerchief over your cunt, thighs, even your skirt. “The night was over. A fake boyfriend’s gotta go home at some point.”

“You know what I mean, Eddie.” It felt a bit silly saying it like that considering what and why Eddie was cleaning you up.

His eyes flickered up and his mouth tipped into a smirk.

“Yeah, think I do.” He peered back down as he folded the cloth until all clean sides were up. “But for clarification—I go inside now, go to sleep, few days pass. Let’s say I see you next week for Dustin’s post-Christmas party. Am I forgetting ‘bout this or…?”

“Not forgetting.” It was a pretty easy answer considering you were already interested in repeating it. “Just not mentioning the, uh…”

You waved at yourself and the car as a whole.

“Car sex? Spanking? Choking?” Eddie laughed as you smacked his chest. “Don’t worry. Those are too damn good to share.”

He sat up and threw an arm around you. He nudged your nose with his and snaked his hand down to where he'd been spanking you, his palm cold against the burning skin.

“Way too good to share.”

You shoved him back as he laughed, and you slowly slid back into the passenger seat. Your feet stayed on Eddie's lap, and you winced at both the soreness and the clear wetness from your underwear. He ran a hand over your ankle and up to your knee, running it in slow, soothing lines as you leaned your head against the seat.

“Hey, Eddie,” you said as he slowly gathered his things. A clear stalling attempt and one that made you smile. He glanced up as he got everything in his hands. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

Eddie grinned like an immature idiot, and you threw his hat at him.

"Seriously. You made this night infinitely better than it would've been." You bit your lip. It was a bit daring, but a part of you wanted to prove to Eddie that you weren't going to say bye and then go back on your word. Besides, fake boyfriend or not, you'd taken Eddie away from his uncle for a few hours. "Do you and Wayne have any plans for Christmas tomorrow?"

"Presents, cocoa, and coffee. Seeing if our tiny tv can snag a movie." He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

“We do a big lunch at my parents’ place for family and friends every Christmas. It’s at two if you and Wayne want to come by. Unfortunately, Steve will be there for a bit. But I think Robin's attendance will cancel that out." You cleared your throat. You'd invited Eddie and his uncle in the past, but he hadn't come. "Just…I just wanted to put it out there. You don't have to or feel pressured. I just…I know it isn't your scene, I just…"

You could give full ten-minute presentations without stuttering but pitching this to Eddie? Impossible.

"I'll ask Wayne." He tapped your ankle, and you lifted your feet. He threw the driver's door open, and you crawled across to take his spot, sinking into his lingering warmth. He reached down and cupped your jaw before stealing one last kiss. "Merry Christmas, (Y/N). Get back safe, 'kay? And stay by your phone next few days. Gonna call."

“Yeah?” You stared up at him a bit starry-eyed. It was hard not to when he kissed you like you were the best possible Christmas gift out there.

“Mhm.” He nodded. “Despite whatever dispositions you might have ‘bout me, I gotta take my girl out for a meal that doesn’t involve cheese fries, floats, and pie bribery.”

He winked before backing up toward the steps of his trailer.

“Night, baby. I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

“Night,” you breathed, leaning back into the car and shutting the door.

You stared in disbelief as Eddie sauntered inside, and you just looked at his closed door. It'd all happened so fast, and that whiplash feeling was back, but…it felt good. It felt like your mother’s homemade cinnamon rolls that she made every Christmas morning and the peppermint cocoa that accompanied it.

You flattened your skirt out and fixed the seat. With trembling hands, you put the car in reverse and started back toward your house.

You'd predicted just about every possible outcome. From a potential fight, getting kicked out, Eddie having a food allergy you hadn't known about, all the way to your family loving Eddie so much, they wanted you to get married. Literally every possible scenario except...that one.

A soft laugh of disbelief left you as you turned onto the main road.

You couldn't have asked for a better outcome.

Or a better Christmas Eve.

#i loved this!#recs!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Casual was much harder rule to abide by when Eddie spent more time with you, as facilitated by his daughter. Dialed back was a flirting style you weren't accustomed to, and proved near-impossible to follow when Eddie's lips were pressed to your ear.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, slight scent kink, allusion to jerking off, reader wears eddie's jacket, drug/alcohol mention/use, depictions of poverty, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 5/? [wc: 15.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05

AO3

Chapter 5: You're Gonna Get Me in Trouble

————

The days of the week lost their meaning in the best way. Turning from one to the next like the colors of the leaves. Falling in and out of obscurity. What was a Monday, when Monday felt like Friday? And what was a Friday, when the familiar clicking sound of your bicycle spokes found him on a Saturday?

The days blurred. The edges sharpened. They were long when the sun was short. They were beautiful, and aggressively tender, including the lows, because the lows themselves used to be the highs.

The days swirled into an everlasting seasoned breeze of cherished moments. Too many to fill the memories of those collecting them. Glimpses into a life of pleasantness–of contentedness–if one were to grasp them.

————

Leather. Vanilla cologne. Spicy deodorant and earthy tobacco.

You grabbed the cuffs of your sweater into your fists and worked your arms down the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket before grabbing your bike from the porch, and setting off on your shortcut through the frosty grass.

The farther you journeyed, the more you smelled like him. The more you sounded like him.

In Robin’s driveway, cigarette smoke overwhelmed your nose, but as your skin warmed from exertion, the nuances appeared. The natural musk clinging to the inside lining, and the artificial fragrances on top, now enveloping you. You turned onto the main road leading to the auto shop, and the chains on the sleeve cuff clinked against the broken zipper. Bouncing your tire up onto the sidewalk, the snap tab collar jangled in time with the small rocks you rode over on the way to the front employee door. You dismounted your bike in a fluid motion, and the supple leather made to fit Eddie creaked and groaned as you got out your keys.

The door opposite you in the garage was ajar, meaning he was smoking in the alleyway.

Quietly, you went to the break room, and said your peace. “Boy’s clothes are always better.”

Standing in front of the coat hooks, you slipped your hands into the pockets and pulled out the items for no other reason than to observe them in remembrance, as if you hadn’t inspected them for hours over the weekend. A half-empty pack of Camels crowded with rolling papers. Translucent green BIC lighter. A grocery receipt from two weeks ago with an obscene amount of pasta and marinara listed on it. A peppermint candy wrapper you could now confirm came from the candy dish on your desk intended for customers. And, of course, a tiny blue high heel shoe belonging to a Barbie doll. Because what father wouldn’t have that in their pocket.

Returning the items from whence they came, you fished a strip of paper out of your jeans, and added it to his treasure.

You removed the warmth you’d become accustomed to, and stared at the coat hook. You glanced down the hallway. Listened for Eddie.

Silence pressed in on you.

Intentionally, after spending more time doing this in bed than you cared to admit, you found his scent to be the strongest on the inside of the collar, and brought it to your nose.

Hugging the jacket to your chest, you inhaled deep, and sighed.

Years of the leather being draped around his neck did wonders for your loneliness since moving here. Last night you caved despite the voice in your head telling you it was weird to find comfort in your coworker’s belongings. As you stared into pitch-black attic, laying alone in a borrowed twin size bed with someone else’s parent’s hand-me-down blankets, cold, and without the glow or noise of the city to keep you company, you surrendered, and wrapped yourself in him. It was a split second decision, quickly overwhelmed by a sensation you hadn’t felt in quite some time. And it was an emotion you were more than happy to shove behind the other clutter in your brain, vowing you’d unpack it some other day, totally. Definitely. You’d absolutely process the heady buzz, and delightful sweat breaking out across your skin at the thought of your coworker’s arms giving you this embrace, and being able to press your nose to the crook of his neck to experience his salty taste on your tongue first-hand.

A squeaky truck passed by on the street, breaking you out of your spell.

“Good God, get a hold on yourself,” you begged aloud, and hung up the jacket.

~~~

The coffee machine sputtered liquid energy into the pot, signifying the end of your morning chores. And yet, Eddie had not made his appearance, whether it was wanted or not, depending on if he was hiding around a corner, or doing the thing he did where he stood next to you and looked like he wanted to say something, but never did.

The back door was still ajar. You poked your head out, and he was there, leaning against the wall. The stubby end of his cigarette was pinched between his forefinger and thumb with a trail of smoke coming off of it.

Early sunrays pierced the tree-lined horizon, gilding the silhouette of his nose in brilliant beauty. He heard you step onto the rocks, and rolled his head to the side to watch you stand between him and his car. The sun caught his hair. Glanced off the gentle slope of his cheek. Caused him to squint one of his eyes, and wrench his mouth into a lopsided grimace.

“Good morning,” he was first to say.

“Good morning,” you replied brightly. “You cut your hair.” By the way his face fell, you gathered he assumed no one would notice, but the feathery edge of his bangs curled higher onto his forehead, flaunting the harsher shadows of his confusion. You reassured him, “It looks good.”

He continued to stare at you without an emotion you could decipher.

“Really good?” you added, thinking he was seeking a better compliment.

With a soft smile and averted gaze, he flicked the ash from his cigarette, and admitted, “Sometimes I have problems vocalizing my thoughts before they’re gone, and I forget you can’t hear them if I don’t blurt them out. Luckily, my daughter demonstrated much better manners than I did, and thanked you for her costume, while I–”

“Waved for an obscenely long time, and then made fun of me,” you finished.

On cue, you both made eyes at each other, and looked away.

The sun couldn’t compete with his smile. The birdsong couldn’t compete with your giggle.

“Yeah,” he exhaled in a croaky groan. “I did do that, didn't I?” You shrugged and told him it didn’t bother you. It was just how you teased each other. “Still, thank you for putting in so much effort to make it special for her. She was crazy excited when she saw it. My uncle, too. I–uh, I appreciate you doing that for us more than I let on.”

“I know you do.” While Eddie may not have shared many of the details of his life prior to your arrival in Hawkins, it was evident in his every decision that people were not frequently kind to him, and the simple act of noticing he trimmed his bangs was something he’d think about for days.

“You think my hair looks good?” he asked, circling back to the original topic.

“The bangs, or everything?”

After a beat of consideration, he ventured, “Everything?”

You tilted your head. “Oh, it’s outdated. Messy. Unprofessional and like you just woke up from a 7-year coma. The worst case of bed head I’ve ever seen. More like a bird’s nest after a storm than anything, but yeah, it suits you. Can’t picture you with any other hairstyle, to be honest.” His expression was a mixture of bafflement, yet also flattery. You put emphasis on the latter. “I love it. It’s wild. I think you look good,” followed by, “for a weirdo,” to dodge the implication of calling him attractive.

In the long seconds that ensued, you rocked from foot to foot, waiting for him to say anything. Do anything besides stare at you with a slight smirk. Anything at all to make you feel like your nervous habits weren’t being examined under a microscope.

Cheeks suitably burning from the shyness of saying too much, you tugged your sleeves into your sweaty palms, and pivoted while saying, “Welp, time for me to be anywhere else on Earth but here.”

You swung open the door to the garage and he spoke up.

“You look pretty today.”

Halting your momentum on a dime, you slid your gaze from the floor to him–to his way of pressing his shoulder blades to the brick wall, leaning his full weight into the pose, arms crossed over his chest, cigarette between his lips, eyes set on you with an irresistible amount of tenderness to them.

You said, “Thank you, handsome,” and left the door open behind you.

But before you walked inside, before you blinked away, you watched that tenderness widen to excitement. You saw the soft curve of his mouth stretch to a smile. Heard him expel his breath in a single stunned laugh. And you listened to his voice fade as he turned his face up to the sky, and took the final drag on his cigarette with a smug mumble of, “Knew it.”

————

The next morning you stared at the full coffee pot suspiciously. The countertop was wiped clean and the powder creamer container was replaced, alongside the sugar packets being restocked.

Still wearing your backpack, you slipped off one strap, swung it around to unzip the top, and put away your lunch in the fridge. While bent over, you surveyed the room again, and narrowed your eyes at the shiny glass pot filled with dark brown coffee.

A certain someone was feeling generous today, helping you out with your morning chores, and that certain someone was currently sneaking behind your desk.

Pretending to mull over who could do such a courteous thing for you, you ran your finger over the packets. Neatened the coffee stirrers. Hummed a pleasing tune as you left the room with heavy steps. Stomp, stomp, stomp, all the way to the end of the hallway, meandering just before you would turn to sit at your desk.

“Raaah!” Eddie jumped from behind the wall–hunched over, hands clawed at you, face etched with utter deviousness, grinning broadly to bare his teeth.

You took the coffee stirrer and thwacked him on the forehead before sidestepping to your chair.

His wickedness withered away. “Hey,” he complained, rubbing the sore spot. “How did you–?”

“Your reflection, dork.”

He clicked his tongue and peered down the hall at the full coffee pot and microwave door, both giving away his movements. “Damnit.”

————

Lunches together became the norm.

Even after Carl and Kevin left the room to ruminate over the real clunker of a car that came in yesterday, you and Eddie remained crowded together on one side of the round table, eating.

You swiped the crumbs from your sandwich into your container. “How’s Adrie’s sleep been? I thought the whole ‘regression’ thing was just for babies.”

Eddie spoke with his mouth full of half-chewed spaghetti, gesturing with his fork, “Usually, yeah. It’s more like she has nightmares ‘nd stuff. Scared of the dark. Monsters under the bed. That sorta thing.” He hadn’t even swallowed before dipping his garlic toast in the marinara sauce and taking a bite. “It’s gotten better, though. I think only one nightmare these past two weeks.”

It happened last Wednesday. You remembered. After your boss and the other guys went home, Eddie fell asleep at the table, and you turned off the lights for him, letting him rest after taking his work jacket off the hook and placing it over his shoulders. He always pretends to not be awake when you do that, but you could tell from his breathing when he was awake and when he wasn’t.

“That’s good,” you said. “I had a talk with her on Halloween about how the dark wasn’t so scary; how she was a bat and bats love the dark, and I’m a mouse, we’re nocturnal, nighttime is just like daytime and there’s nothing to be afraid of, yada yada..” You trailed off upon seeing the faint shadow of his dimple flourish. “What?”

“That’s a genius move,” he said, impressed. “You sure you’re not a parent?”

You wanted to continue the conversation, you really did, but..

Sighing, you closed your eyes. “Eddie, you have sauce–just–all over your mouth.”

“–Shit, sorry.” Intent on rushing to the stack of napkins near the sink, he didn’t notice how close you were, and stumbled into your chair when standing up.

He caught himself on you. His hands were heavy on your shoulders as he regained his balance. Landing there on accident, yet it felt on purpose when they remained a moment longer, benefitting from your innate response to clasp your hands over his wrists and ask if he were all right, looking up at him with wide eyes of concern and your cheek pressed to his forearm.

He cursed another apology from above your head, and withdrew his grip–but only after you let go, too.

————

“Oh, Adrie, I found that shoe you were.. looking.. for?”

It was the weekend before Eddie managed to wear his leather jacket. He reached into the pocket after coming inside from smoking on the makeshift porch attached to the front of his uncle’s trailer, and uncurled his fingers.

The blue high heel rolled across his palm along with a folded piece of paper.

Jutting his bottom lip in confusion, he gave his daughter the shoe, and as she galloped to her room to play with her dolls, he opened the note.

sorry i stole your jacket

come to me for a prize when you find this :)

if you find this

So that’s why you gave him that weird expectant look every morning..

————

Facing you on the other side of your desk after a customer left the lobby with their receipt, Eddie held up the note pinched between his index and middle fingers. “What’s my prize?”

Elated, your eyes lit up at the sight, and you motioned for him to give it to you while you held the phone to your ear with your shoulder, and continued your conversation with the auto parts dealer. “So–Yeah, three of those,” you went on, making a note with your pencil on where you left off in the catalog. “Yes, the smaller size, please.” You wrote something on the back of the paper and gave it to him.

Eddie snatched it–darting his eyes over your handwriting–and his excitement melted.

you finally cleaned out your pockets

your prize is a job well done ♡

“That’s not a prize,” he said, face falling into a pouty glare.

Unamused by his inability to keep his mouth shut when you were clearly busy, you turned your hand over as if to ask ‘what did you expect?’ and directed a question at the man over the phone.

Not one to be ignored, Eddie began searching through the candy dish for a treasure to appease his appetite for a reward, and spilled peppermints over the side as he dug to the bottom.

You made a shushing gesture at him, widening your eyes at the crinkling wrappers interrupting you. “You’re out of those? Okay, then, I’ll move on to the door handle replacement. Let me just find the model number,” you spoke evenly into the receiver.

Eddie grunted, not finding what he was looking for.

You snapped your fingers at him, and pressed the phone to your chest to muffle yourself, “Do you not have a job or something?”

He held up a pink Now and Later, and asked in a stage-whisper, “Where’s all the butterscotch candy?”

“Bu–What?” you balked. “You ate them all? Those are for customers, Eddie! Yes, I’m still here,” you rattled off a make and model for the car. Eddie’s eyebrows rose at the quick switch from your speaking voice, to your cloyingly sweet customer service nasally octave, and back down to your annoyed tone at him. “Stop eating candy not meant for you and get back to work. You’re distracting me, you absolute nuisance.”

“Can you buy more butterscotch ones? Those are my favorite.”

“Sure, gramps, I’ll get right on it.”

Undeterred, or perhaps spurred on by earning your attention, he flattened his stomach to the ledge, and leaned over, invading your space to grab a stack of Post-it notes from the far end of your desk. Your Post-It notes. Your Post-It notes in his scuffed up, greasy hands, and his wavy hair sweeping from over his shoulders to block you from reading the lines of numbers and letters you were about to recite.

“What’re you..” You gave up when he grabbed your favorite pen.

You slid the catalog into your lap and turned away from him, facing the wall as you ordered the rest of the parts you needed, ending the call with an unintentional chat about the mild autumn weather–two minutes tops–and spun around to no one. Eddie had gone out to the garage. But not before sticking a note right smack dab in the middle of your desk where you couldn’t ignore it.

BUY MORE BUTTERSCOTCH

-EM

His initials. It was silly, but two months into knowing him, and you’d never heard his last name. It wasn’t said aloud by him, his friends, or the other mechanics. Maybe you’d remember to ask him what it is one day.

————

Eddie had one rule–no reading over his shoulder when he was writing in his black notebook.

“Oh, chill,” you scolded him. “I’m here to microwave my lunch, not read your diary.”

Mr. Moore was out of office and the photocopier was broken, meaning you had to bike to the drug store and use theirs, missing your lunch break. With Eddie being the only mechanic in today, and having no customers, he made himself at home over the hour you were gone to catch up on.. whatever it was he was catching up on.

He slammed the thin red book shut and flipped it over. And when he thought that wasn’t good enough, he smashed the looseleaf papers back into his binder, closed it, and scrambled for his notebook, tearing through it like a wild animal until he found a blank page. Quick–He spun in his chair and laced his fingers in his lap, donning a weak smile. About as composed as a floundering fish.

A pink flush crept up his neck, and his heavy breathing caused his unbuttoned coveralls to open wider over his chest, showing more than a glimpse at his black shirt underneath, stretched taut across his pecs.

His pencil dropped to the floor.

“Uh, hey. Didn’t hear you walk in.”

“Yeah, that much was obvious,” you snorted.

“What took you so long? I thought it’d be, like, 15 minutes tops. You could’ve read the manual and fixed our own copier by now.”

You popped open the lid to your container, and placed it in the microwave. “I’d rather jump off a bridge than sit there and read instructions. Anyway, I took a detour to see an apart–”

“Actually, that’s a good question. Would you jump off a bridge if someone asked, with your policy and all?”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” You punched two minutes on the timer. “As I was saying–Do you know that motel that closed down on Cypress? Bobbie told me it was a little mom-and-pop place that struggled to compete with the Motel 6.”

Perplexed as to where this was going, he squinted, and answered with a tepid, “Yeah?”

“Well,” you explained, “apparently someone bought the building and has been renovating them into apartments. I guess it wasn’t in too bad of a shape, with them just knocking down a few walls to make them into two bedrooms, and stuff. Bigger kitchens, whatever.” His features softened. The fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes lessened, and the tenseness in his jaw weakened. “Bobbie met the guy who’s renovating them and, uh, they’re gonna be available sometime at the beginning of next year, and the projected rent isn’t that bad. Really manageable for the both of us. As long as her dad is getting better, we could be moving out soon. It’d be nice to not live in their attic anymore, y’know.” You ended it almost on a lilt, as if it were a question, but maybe you were just goading him into saying what was on his mind, because with the way he was looking at you, you had no idea what had him so captivated.

“I–Yeah, I know the place you’re talking about. It’s just a few minutes from here.” And he added helpfully, “It’d be a shorter commute to work.”

“Yeah!” you exhaled, nodding in agreement. “Shorter commute.”

“Yeah,” he said again, allowing the information to wash over you both in different ways. “Closer to the grocery store, too.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and the laundromat.”

Eddie raised his brows. “Oh, nice. I use that place when our washing machine is broken.”

By some miracle you kept your mouth shut, saving yourselves the trouble of listing more establishments you’d be near when you moved. He must’ve realized the awkwardness as well, because he fidgeted with his fingers sheepishly.

“So, does that mean you’re staying in Hawkins?”

Hearing him take interest in your future kicked up your heart rate. It could be coming from a place of blunt curiosity, or conversational politeness, but like hell if your adrenaline didn’t surge from the unmistakable way he leaned in, hanging onto your every word, as the warm hum of the microwave served as background music to the glimmer of eagerness in his eyes.

Downplaying your excitement, you told him one eensy-weensy tiny caveat about your situation, “I am, but Robin’s moving in with Vickie at some point–don’t know when, but probably by the end of summer when she goes back to Indianapolis.. so.”

“And after that?”

“Dunno. I can float rent and bills by myself for a few months, but I’m not sure after that. Could tag along with them to the city, or stay here and, y’know, keep answering phones and annoying my favorite mechanic like I do now. Maybe even find someone willing to go on another date with me, since my first one was a bust.” He didn’t laugh. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll end up back in New York and audition for Cats.” You threw it out there as an outlandish possibility without serious consideration, and you thought you conveyed that through your jokey tone.

The microwave beeped.

You turned around, missing the way Eddie averted his gaze down and away before speaking.

“Just waiting for the next big thing to catch your eye and sweep you away, huh?”

“Not the first time you said that,” you commented teasingly, thinking you were still playing with each other. You grabbed your steaming rice and stirred it with a fork from the cutlery drawer. “What’s wrong? Afraid of not having a pretty girl sit across from you at lunch every day? Scared some other mechanic’s gonna need a receptionist, and then I’ll be gone? Or are you worried you’ll actually miss me if I leave?”

You giggled at your melodramatic phrasing and waited for him to respond. And when he didn’t, you looked over at him.

His shoulders rose and fell with his steady breaths as he thumbed through his notebook, mouth in a flat line.

Confusion stung embarrassment to your cheeks. Holding the hot tupperware, you asked, “Are we not eating together?”

He opened the binder and shifted closer to the table, scraping the chair legs across the tile, signifying the end of the conversation. Worse, still, he spoke in what would be a casual tone, if it weren’t for his rejective back facing you. “Actually, I’m trying to finish this,” he said, putting his pencil to the page and continuing the sentence where he left off.

“Oh.. Okay.”

You walked out the room and sat at your desk. Alone. Glaring at the stupid grains of rice and moving them around with your stupid fork and slouching over to rest your stupid cheek on your stupid fist.

Were you really less interesting than whatever he was writing in that notebook of his?

“Maybe I will find a bridge to jump off of,” you concluded, deciding you’d clock out on time in order to preserve your dignity. At least Robin would be home, and she would be honored to hang out with you.

————

An apology of sorts waited for you on your desk the next morning.

Three fresh-picked flowers in a chipped vase with a torn square of lined paper beside it.

YOURE RIGHT

I WOULD MISS

EATING WITH YOU

IM SORRY

-EM

The bud vase was from his home, the paper from his spiral bound notebook, and the dew-coated flowers from Hawkin’s soil–the last of their kind before the season put them to sleep.

Eddie wouldn’t be coming in today; he had the day off to take Adrie to the dentist. So, he woke up early to leave this peace offering when he could be sleeping in.

You set your elbows on you desk, and laced your fingers to rest your chin atop them, taking in the finer details of the periwinkle blue asters. After a moment, you traced your knuckle along your grin, and nibbled at the skin.

“So silly.”

————

And the morning after that, Eddie strayed from his bee line for coffee to approach you with a familiar meek posture; head lowered in deference, and a pouty expression of remorse on his lips.

The glass candy dish shined like a chest of golden coins awaiting him.

He folded his forearms on the ledge, and picked one of the butterscotch candies on top, pulling either end of the wrapper to unfurl it until the lustrous surface of the sweet flashed under the lobby’s lights.

You sank into your chair and watched him sweep his gaze across your desk in search of the flowers, and after not seeing them, he popped the candy in his mouth, and mumbled, “Does this mean you forgive me?”

Flitting your focus back and forth between his big eyes, you peered into each one, drawing out the moment by clicking your pen in thought, forcing him to sweat and fiddle with his wrapper in the echoey room. “Hmm..” You crossed your legs and shined your fingernails on your shirt, inspecting them.

His mouth twitched into a slight smile, favoring the side with his dimple.

Tipping his head so he was looking at you from under his lashes, he begged, “Come on, haven’t I groveled enough for you to have lunch with me later?” Bravery swelled his chest, jerked his chin in a smug nod once he had your attention. “Got you flowers and everything.”

You locked eyes with him for one, entire, sweet second, in which he winked at you.

Interestingly enough, you remembered you had paperwork to grab from Mr. Moore’s office, and rushed out sloppy sentences as you went, laying the sarcasm on thick to disguise the hitch in your throat, “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll have lunch with you if it’s that important to your livelihood, since you can’t live without me, or whatever.” You closed the office door behind you.

God, your face had never burned so hot.

~~~

And it was that night, when Eddie was alone with himself, he thought of the morning smiles through the glass window, and the afternoon laughs shared at the lunch table. The way you sat next to him and he moved his feet outward, spreading his legs to occupy as much space as possible. And he thought about how you accommodated him. Nudging his knee at first to test the waters, and when he responded by closing the distance between your shoe and his, you leaned towards him at the height of the story you were telling, and the length of your thigh pressed against him in a satisfying squish. He wasn’t entirely sure it was on purpose, but with the state he was in, it mattered not.

Eddie fluttered his eyes closed from blinking lazily at the shower head, stroking away the fleeting guilt of wondering if he should be testing his boundaries by thinking about you while doing this, even as his lips parted with silence, and his stomach tensed from pleasure.

Even as he held his shaky breath to keep himself mute, and his hand moved with renewed swiftness from his release mixing with his spit, and he watched the mess gather in his palm before washing it down the drain, he convinced himself.

This was so casual.

————

Saturday you went to the grocery store–AKA, hell day in hell land. You only needed a few ingredients, and figured getting out of the house for a while was better than calling Robin and asking her to pick them up for you.

However, life mocked you. After a heart-racing encounter with a truck narrowly missing you on the highway, you slowed to an agonizing stop every few feet from people blockading the aisles, taking their sweet time to decide what type of oil they wanted, when you could’ve snatched the one you needed, and moved on if they–would–just–move–a–freakin’–inch.

Least to say, by the time you made it to the baking aisle, you were mentally over it, and yet..

The cocoa powder was on the top shelf, taunting you by sight, just out of reach.

You huffed.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you employed your entire wingspan into clawing for it–tasting victory with your fingertips–but not enough to grasp the slippery plastic.

And of course no one else on the aisle was taller than you. They were hunched over walking canes, and clutching their layers of cardigans over their chests.

And of course, as you were stepping onto the bottom shelf for leverage, and becoming intimate with the bags of flour you inadvertently shoved your face into, your worst nightmare loomed behind you.

You knew it was Eddie before he spoke. You knew his gait, his smell, the sound of his laugh when he kept it in his chest. You knew his radiating warmth, his soft grunt, the way he took a sharper breath and held it for a beat before releasing it as a teasing remark. You knew the magnitude of his presence even when he was being demure. How respectful he was to invite himself into your personal space without crossing a line, squeezing his firm hand on the meat of your shoulder to let you know he was there, and heeding a modest gap between your bodies as his unbuttoned shirt brushed your sides.

He backed away half a step, and waited until you were turned around in the crowded space of him and the metal shelves to wave the tub above your head. The rings decorating his fingers glinted as he boasted, “Shucks, looks like it’s the last one too.”

You held your palm up and dropped your head to the side. “Are you gonna make me jump for it like Adrie, or are you gonna be a grown up and give it to me?”

“Give it to you? Maybe I need” –He read the label– “Cocoa powder.”

“You so do not.”

“You don’t know that,” he replied, lifting his chin at your bored expression. “If you want it..” He shifted his stance and sank into his hip, curling his bottom lip over his smirk as he peered down at you, prolonging your misery instead of just finishing his sentence. “..You can use the magic words.”

What an infuriating immovable object. Blocking everything in your view that wasn’t his red flannel thrown over a wrinkled white tee, and his rebellious hair eclipsing the fluorescent lights.

Just the worst person to rescue you from your predicament. Standing so close you could scrutinize the permanent five-o-clock shadow on his upper lip, and the wispy curls composing his sideburns.

So annoying how his hair reached the shadow of his clavicle, where a chain link necklace showed beneath his shirt, and the tendons in his neck stretched an alluring contour from the hollow of his throat to the underside of his square jaw.

His shoulders shook with a quelled snicker. “Come on,” he sang with an infuriating timbre, swaying the cocoa above you.

You met his steeped tea eyes, and insisted in a warm honey tone, “Please stop being a dickhead, and thank you for not being an asshole and handing over the cocoa.. Fucker.”

Eddie’s face cracked into the biggest grin. Beside you, a blushing grandmother shot you a scathing glare, and grabbed a bag of sugar from the shelf before tsking and walking off.

Bestowing you the tub in your hand, he wrapped his palm over top of it and didn’t let go as he bent to you. “Hey now,” he said in a lower register, voice cracking on the consonants from the remnants of his laugh, “no bad words in front of my kid. Or the elderly. Show some respect.”

You perked up. All transgressions in regards to baking ingredients were forgotten when you spotted his daughter sitting cross legged inside the shopping cart behind him. “Adrie!” You pushed Eddie out of the way, and wrapped her in a tender, heartwarming hug.

“Miss Mouse!” she cheered in equal enthusiasm, dropping the box of cereal she was reading aloud to lock her arms around your neck.

You giggled at the giddy feeling soaring in your chest, and encouraged her, “Yeah, I’m Miss Mouse.” The clunky braids Eddie put in her hair smashed against your cheek as you held each other tighter.

Taking inventory of the sparse groceries she was amongst, you spotted a pattern. “You like pasta, huh?” It was an easy guess considering there were three bags of noodles with two large jars of sauce standing out from the rice dinners and a few cans of soup. Practically a replica of the receipt you found in his pocket. But she corrected you.

“No. Daddy’s just bad at cooking.”

Your eyes bulged, and you pursed your lips to refrain from bursting out in impolite laughter. Standing up straight, you combed a few stray curls behind her ear, and whispered, “Geez, kids are ruthless.”

Eddie shifted his weight to his other foot, and gestured at the groceries with a pencil before striking out something on the short list he had written one on a pad of paper. “Eh, Wayne’s the chef of the family. She knows what she’s getting when it’s my turn to cook.”

You hummed at the new information, and went to pick your hand basket off the floor when something caught your eye–and it definitely wasn’t the leather loafers on the old man shuffling past you.

Eddie, obviously, wasn’t dressed in coveralls.

His black tennis shoes were nearly identical to the white ones he wore on Halloween, with the floppy tongues out against his light-wash blue jeans. (Very, very nice fitted jeans with holes in the knees, and a rip stretching wider across the curve of his thigh.) Dragging your gaze up, you clocked the interesting belt buckle he wore on your way to admire the soft outline of his stomach pressed against his shirt. He moved his flannel aside to stuff his shopping list in his pocket–struggling due to how tight his pants were–and incidentally showed off a smidgen of skin above the waistband of his plaid boxers.

Just a hint of skin marked with the bottom lines of a larger tattoo and you were salivating–

A loud intercom announcement sang a jingle about tortillas, and you were reminded of where you were, and where Eddie was, a few feet away from you, well aware of the places your gaze stalled before landing on his smirk.

He caught you checking him out.

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Find everything you were looking for?”

“I, uh–” you stuttered two words out before your brain threatened you to shut the fuck up. As an alternative, you snapped into finger guns aimed in the opposite direction, and made up an excuse. “I forgot to get.. something.”

“Forgot what?”

You blinked. “Milk.”

“Milk, huh?”

“Yep.. Milk.” Sweating under the heat of his narrowed eyes, you made yourself scarce. “Welp. Hope to never see you outside of work again, because this was we-ird,” you enunciated in lilt as you strutted away. But just as you were about to disappear around the corner, you stopped, and said, “Adrie, however, I’d love to see you any day of the week.”

She turned in the shopping cart and waved. “Bye, Miss Mouse.” Eddie was too busy watching you make a fool of yourself to correct her, letting the nickname stick.

Rounding the end cap display of premature Christmas themed candies and bakeware, you held your gaze steadfast ahead as you passed by someone not-so-inconspicuously trying to blend in with the background, wearing a red managerial vest, and holding a clipboard over their mouth.

Robin lowered the employee break schedule, and whispered rather loudly, “He’s so in love with you.”

You groaned. “Can you not spy on us?”

She sweetened you up, “Seriously, he was totally checking you out when you bent over.”

You turned down an aisle and felt her hot on your heels. Yielding in front of the boxes of chamomile tea, you examined one, and asked with an air of disinterest as if you were inquiring about the weather, “Was he now?”

Screwing her face up, she nodded empathically, “Majorly.”

“Good, because I want to crawl in a hole and die.”

~~~

Six feet under seemed like a better fate than what you were dealt.

Though you gave it your best effort, meandering about until enough time had elapsed that you figured he’d left by now, you made your way to the front of the store, and stopped. Eddie had the end of his cart angled towards the registers. Adrie held a package of cookies out for him to approve of, and in a depressing moment of realization, you watched him revert to the person you met him as.

The playfulness was gone. His face was cast with the exhaustion of being around strangers for too long. His lips were bitten raw. His chest sank with a long exhale, and his stomach caved as he looked at his daughter asking for something the other parents around him could throw in their cart without a second thought, and he had to disappoint her.

He didn’t say ‘no’ exactly, but the nervousness of doing so was there. “They’re not on the list,” he begged her in a defeated whisper to understand and not make a scene. He couldn’t handle a scene.

Not yet five-years-old and she sensed his stress and put them back.

“Hey, cutie.” You didn’t know you spoke until Eddie jerked his head up, and you witnessed the change in his mood wash over him. Turned on a dime. He grinned at you in genuine relief, and in a bout of awkwardness, you smiled at Adrie in particular to imply your initial greeting was for her. Not that he wasn’t cute, too. “Fancy meeting you two here.”

He pushed his cart forward, taking the next spot in line, and peered into your hand basket, assessing the Reese’s Pieces, baking goods, tea, and distinct lack of one item. “Hmm, got lost on your way to the milk, huh? Or did you need someone to reach it for you?” He placed his gallon of milk on the conveyor belt first for emphasis. You rolled your eyes.

The two of you must’ve appeared cozier than you gave off, because the cashier motioned at you–specifically, he pointed from Eddie’s groceries to yours. “You two together?”

Eddie froze. Just a useless doe-eyed deer in headlights. You, on the other hand, swallowed your spit before you choked on it, and realized what he meant.

“No, no, separate,” you answered, taking a plastic divider from him and putting it after Eddie’s bag of red delicious apples and before Robin’s dad’s tea.

You stifled your giggle as your beloved coworker fumbled into action after the exchange dawned on him. Bouncing between bagging his groceries, finding the cereal box for Adrie so she could finish tracing the maze on the back, and wiggling his wallet out of his back pocket. The chain attached to it clinked as he rifled through the papers in the biggest slot. They didn’t fit quite right like proper money would. They didn’t look quite right, either. Printed in muted red, purple, green, and blue like Monopoly money. Big text on the front with a picture of the Liberty Bell. Large numbers in the corner with fine print beside it.

Food stamps.

They were food stamps, and it was the middle of the month, and he didn’t have many left.

He counted two of them out, and hesitated, choosing to add a few dollars to meet the total, and handed them over.

Eddie had no reason to feel embarrassed. This was his life. This was how he fed his daughter. But still, he snuck a glance at you, and you looked away so he didn’t think you were staring, even though you were. You were. Not from a place of judgment, but of natural curiosity. Unfortunately, as you directed your gaze elsewhere, you noticed other people around you weren’t as gracious. Eyeing Eddie with cruelty behind their study of the town freak coming inside their territory and depending on their honest wealth to pay for his food.

He’d only begun to stop chewing on his lips when he left the store. Exiting swiftly to begin the process of calming his anxiety as he loaded his car with groceries, knowing he had meals to eat, even if the price he paid stung his ego.

You went through the motions of bagging your groceries in your backpack, and listened to your gut.

Outside, you unchained your bike and put your bag in the wire basket attached to the handles, squinting in the noonday sun as you walked it to the back of the parking lot where Eddie was placing the plastic bags into the trunk of his car. No one parked on either side of him. Not a notable thing, but with how the store was packed, it stood out.

Eddie heard your wheel spokes click as you neared, and schooled the indications of worse emotions from his face to keep you from prying, but he frowned anyway when you passed him to talk to his daughter instead.

The rear door on the passenger’s side was propped open. You flapped your hand at her to get her attention, and she stretched her arm out as far as her car seat allowed in effort to link your fingers. “See you later, girlie,” you said, squeezing her hand in lieu of a proper hug. “Be good for your dad, alright?”

“I’m always good,” she responded, giving you an assured nod of angelic innocence. Eddie barked a laugh, and closed the trunk.

“You can’t swindle her,” he told Adrie. “She knows all about the fit you threw the other morning when I wouldn’t let you bring your stuffed animals to school.” She cut him a sassy glare at being called out.

“Don’t listen to him,” you consoled her. “You’re perfect.” She beamed at you, and you paralleled her delight as you let go of her to smack Eddie’s hand away from your ribs. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get going. Gotta get this milk in the fridge, y’know.”

You stole a coy look at him reveling in what you hoped wouldn’t become a running joke, and steered your bike away, saying another final goodbye to Adrie.

“Not gonna say goodbye to me?” he asked with an aching amount of pitifulness.

“Ch’yeah.” You swung your leg over the frame, put your feet to the pedals. Ensuring you were a decent distance apart, you called out, “You’re right! I should respect my elders.” You waved and shouted at him pointedly, “Farewell, Eddie!”

He fixed his lazy grin on his daughter, who was laughing like it was the funniest thing she’d ever witnessed, and told her with utmost fondness, “Saw that one coming from a mile away.”

————

Sunday morning, Adrie threw him for a loop.

“I want Miss Mouse to come to my play,” she said, spearing the scrambled eggs on her plate with the tines of her plastic Little Mermaid themed fork. “Can you invite her for me?”

Eddie went rigid. The triangle shaped extras from her pancakes being cut into stars flopped off his fork, paused mid-air on the way to his already stuffed mouth. He chewed slowly. Methodically. Swallowing the syrupy sweetness coating his tongue, biding his time as he hunched deeper over his plate, and stared her down while his uncle took special interest in her request.

Wayne wasn’t able to make it this year, and Adrie was quick to think of a suitable replacement.

With a voice scratchy from cigarettes, he directed his question at his nephew, “Miss Mouse?”

Eddie shut him down with a diplomatic answer without breaking eye contact with his daughter. “Adrie’s nickname for the receptionist at work.”

“Oh! The one who did the costume, and went trick-or-treating with you.”

He sounded much too happy, much too chipper for Eddie’s liking, and when he withdrew his gaze from Adrie to pin it on Wayne, the sharp rush of annoyance at the twinkle in his uncle’s eye manifested in a low, tempered correction for him to drop it. “My coworker from the auto shop, where I’m lucky to have the job that I do.”

Wayne wasn’t having it. He leaned in, and matched his intensity, loading his words with a much deeper meaning than the type of conversation they could have in front of Adrie. He spoke to him man-to-man. “The receptionist who is nice to you and Adrie, and, understandably, is being asked to go to a small event at her school.”

“I know what she’s asking,” Eddie replied from behind his hand. “Stop acting like you don’t.”

“Daddy, please,” Adrie begged, kicking his shin under the table. Eddie inhaled sharply and scooted away.

Wayne looked at him.

Adrie looked at him.

His rules, convictions, and morals of the workplace looked at him, rising as a tense pressure in his chest. Eddie sighed them out.

He was weak.

————

Sunday night, you and Robin were up to your usual bullshit.

Stress baking, and stress baking.

Her house was dimmed to only the small lights above the stove and sink, painting the room in an intimate mood of warmth bouncing off the smoky haze clouding the cramped space from the counter where you transferred a tray of hot cookies to a cooling rack, and she swayed behind you to the sultry Cher record spinning in the distance, seeming far away with her deep vocals melding into loops in your sleepy highs.

“Eddie’s beyond in love with you,” Robin said for the hundredth time, probably.

“He is not,” you argued for the hundredth time, probably. “Can you get me a bag for these?” The double chocolate cookies with Reese’s Pieces on top were ready to be put away to make room for the oatmeal ones.

“I just don’t get why you think he doesn’t like you–Oops.” While reaching for the ziploc bags from the top of the refrigerator, she accidentally knocked down a piece of artwork hanging on the door. She tossed you the box and picked the magnet up, along with the drawing of a mouse, owl, and bat off the floor, and put them back into place. “I mean, the way he looks at you every time you speak..” she trailed off in a wistful, airy breath. “So romantic.”

You answered her dreamy grin with a melancholic shrug of your own. “Yeah, but you don’t see all the other times he looks at me.”

Robin persevered. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.. He’s really–” You struggled for a word, interrupted by the sound of roiling bubbles behind you. “He’s really confusing.”

Exhaling at the ceiling, she asked, “Confusing how? Seems pretty clear to me.”

You groaned. Robin jabbed her elbow into your arm and offered you the bong, and when you showed her your greasy fingers, she turned it around and held it to your lips, lighting it for you until your lungs ached from a full inhale and you gave her a thumbs up to pull the stem.

Different place, same old bullshit. Smoking the last of your combined stash of weed you moved here with while bitching about life. It was hardly the first bowl of the night–or even the third–and the sentences you were trying to string together lulled into the drowsy dregs at the back of your mind.

You dropped your head back and sighed the smoke out. “He gets weird sometimes.”

“He’s always been weird.”

Shaking your head at her, you shifted the tone of the night to a somber one. Serious. Reflective.

Rolling the sugar cookie dough into balls, you recounted Eddie’s most recent rejection. “Last week I was telling him how we were hoping to move out soon, and he was giving off signals and asking questions like it was leading somewhere, but then I ran my stupid mouth, and it’s like he flipped a switch. He just stopped talking to me for the rest of the day.”

She put the bong down on the counter next to the tiny vase holding three flowers, and crossed her arms. “Ran your mouth how?”

You groaned louder into the hot wave of heat fanning your face from opening the oven door. “The dude will seriously flirt with me from clock in to clock out, but I–I dunno. I think I lay it on too thick, and it freaks him out. Like suddenly he realizes I’m serious, and he’s not into it. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened last week, anyway. We were going back and forth listing the pros of me living closer to work, and the cons of you eventually moving in with Vickie, and I kinda made a pass at him..”

“A pass how?”

You drew your brows in, and blinked your droopy eyes in a concentrated effort to recall the conversation. “..To be honest, I can’t remember. It was along the lines of me hinting that I’d want a second date with him. Which I only said because he seemed interested after I told him we were staying in Hawkins, but whatever. Guess I read it wrong.”

Perhaps too astute, your best friend in the entire world navigated your love life with undue keenness in spite of how blitzed you two were, breaking into dumb giggle fits at, quite literally, you dropping a spoon. “How obvious was this hint of yours?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You waved off the notion before you could grow attached to it. “We’re still coworkers, so I need to dial it back, regardless.”

“I think you should dial it up.”

“If I dialed it any more up, I’d get an HR complaint.”

“You don’t have HR,” she reminded you.

Squinting, you paused mixing the chocolate chips into the next batch of cookies. “I think I am HR?”

You handed her the pyrex bowl since it was her turn to roll them into cookies, and as she snacked on the raw dough, you filled the ziploc bag with more treats, stuffing it full.

Cher sang about starting over and finding love again.

The drawing on the fridge was in your periphery, as was the vase. Reminders of how kind, and gentle, and sweet Eddie and his daughter were. You were bound to misread his flirtations, but there was no harm in matching them, right? As long as you didn’t cross any lines, yeah? Just followed his lead and stopped when he made it clear it wasn’t welcomed.

Yeah.

Dialed back. You could do dialed back.

————

This was new.

It was early afternoon when you closed the manila folder of invoices, and directed your attention to Eddie, who, for the first time, imposed himself on your side of the desk.

He acted brave when he was timid. A blatant facade, still hesitant to commit to crossing the threshold past the invisible line where your desk ended and the hallway began. Made himself smaller by leaning on the wall behind you, giving you room to leave if you wanted. Not yet courageous enough to take his hand away from playing with the ends of his hair over his rosy cheeks. “So–um–Adrie’s class is putting together a Thanksgiving play, and she requested your attendance by name,” he finished with an adorable pout of your moniker, “Miss Mouse.”

You sat up straighter with lifted brows.

Thinking he was doing you a favor, he dropped the formalities, and gave you an out–a carefully worded out to avoid any cheeky response about your policy, “It’s gonna be a bunch of rambunctious toddlers singing off key, and not remembering their lines. It’s cool if you don’t want to go, I’ll tell her you were busy or somethin’. She’ll understand.”

You gripped the armrests in a burst of enthusiasm. “What? Of course I wanna go! When is it?”

Eddie was unconvinced. He crossed his arms, and bent at the waist to better assess if you knew what you were getting into. “Uh, Wednesday around lunch time–we can be out and back during our break if we hurry–but I’m serious about the little kids being obnoxious part. You don’t have to go.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” It was a rhetorical question he was going to answer, but you knocked the air from his lungs with one simple sentence. “I want to be there for her.”

Warmth bloomed. Spread throughout his body. The things he suppressed. Taking over all at once.

“You said Wednesday around lunch time?” you clarified. He nodded dumbly, a bit distracted. Your grin grew. “Both Mr. Moore and Carl are taking a half-day to start their Holiday early..” you began, and waited for the realization to cross his features.

“So we could just..”

“Lock up, and..”

“Take the rest of the day off too,” Eddie finished with an undertone of pride. He’d have to work extra hard to complete the cars he was working on before then, but the idea was genius. Playing hooky under his boss’ nose like he was a teenager again.

There was perhaps more he wanted to say, but the phone rang.

You answered and kept the exchange short, using your normal speaking voice. “Robin’s dad is being discharged from the hospital today,” you told him after hanging up. “I’m gonna clock out early to help prepare the house for when he gets here.”

Eddie watched you tidy up your desk in preparation to leave, and figured he should get back to work.

Picking up where he left off, he sank into the passenger’s seat of the Ford Taurus outside, and ran a mental checklist of things he still needed to do. Or he tried, rather. He was mostly sitting there daydreaming about potential scenarios, until he saw you come from the breakroom with your jacket in hand, and left out the front door, waving goodbye as you went.

Two dramatic minutes passed.

The quiet warehouse amplified the aural representation of his loneliness.

Eddie frowned. He wasn’t about to attribute the weather to your proximity, but he was certain the temperature in the garage dropped when you weren’t in the office. Or, maybe, he lost the pretty thing distracting him every few minutes, and he had the time to reflect on how badly he wanted a smoke break in the sun to warm him up.

He went inside to get his jacket from the breakroom, and instead of encountering a pack of Camels in his pocket, he grasped an oddly shaped object, and wrangled it out.

bobbie & i made too many

share with adrie & your uncle!

♡

An array of cookies surprised him. Several flavors, in fact. Some with fun toppings, some plain.

He smiled.

Well. Smiling would be putting it mildly.

Acting on impulse, he (accidentally) crushed the bag to his chest, and made a high-pitched noise of glee in his throat, absolutely smitten. Eddie hadn’t received a sweet gesture like this in years. If ever. Ironically blessed with the allure of being older in high school, he couldn’t distinguish the genuine crushes girls may have had on him from the fake love letters people stuffed in his locker to mess with him. But this? This was sincere. Even if the intention behind the cookies were to pawn them off because you made too many, you still thought of him and Adrie.

Too excited, he opened the bag and went to eat one, but a distinct odor itched his nose–one he was too intimate with to miss.

He held the baggie up and sniffed, then smelled the cookies. Inhaled the acrid scent clinging to the plastic, and nibbled on one of the innocuous looking treats.

He consulted the note again.

share with adrie

You didn’t just give him and his daughter edibles, did you?

————

Wednesday came unannounced. You crossed several days off the calendar in the garage, forgetting to do so with the influx of orders, phone calls, and customers getting in their last minute fixes before the Holiday break. You did what you could. Eddie did what he could. And now, you taped a handwritten sign to the front door and locked it until Monday morning.

Grabbing your backpack, you went to the women’s restroom, and Eddie went to the men’s to change out of your work clothes. After some arguing back and forth through the doors, you made him agree to open them on a countdown, and through your giggles, you shouted, “Three!”

You swung open your door and were instantly disappointed. “Why are you wearing that?”

Eddie made a similar sneer across from you in the hallway, and questioned your sanity, “What in the world are you wearing?”

“It’s adorable, and festive!” You defended yourself by pointing out the scarecrow patch on the chest pocket of your baggy overalls, and how your orange flannel matched the one he was wearing. “Do you not think so, you big gray cloud?”

“Yeah, super cute. You’ll blend right in with the toddlers,” he snarked with much less malice than his words implied, on account of his lopsided grin.

“Big talk coming from the guy dressed like a moody teen.” Sinfully tight black jeans, black boots, black belt sporting a handcuff buckle, black leather jacket, black tee with a graphic of a rattlesnake wrapped around a skull.

It was his first date outfit again. How sweet.

And you didn’t need to be checking out his ass to see the bandana hanging out of his back pocket as he escorted you to his car, but you weren’t complaining about the opportunity. “You should worry about scaring the children with how angry you look.”

He held the employee door open for you, and locked it–then almost tripped on his way to unlock the car door, and hold it open for you too. “Angry?” He glanced from your outfit to his. “Good thing I’m with you, then. We’ll balance each other out, Sunshine.”

“An unlikely pair,” you agreed in good faith. Once he shut your door, and was in the process of walking around to his side, you gawked at the nickname. “Sunshine?”

You snapped your mouth shut as he fell into the driver’s seat, and started the car.

“So,” you drew out to break the silence after he didn’t have the courtesy of turning on the radio to ease the tension of being stuck in a small enclosure together, “red, huh?” The entire interior–every last detail–was custom made in the same bright crimson, from the air vents to the tiniest knobs.

The engine revved with his heavy stamp on the gas. Your stomach flipped. His grin went wicked.

“There weren’t many made in this color,” he said, thrilled to see your fingernails dig into your palms as he peeled out onto the street, and the garage became a miniature in his rearview mirror at a frightening speed, considering you were coming up on an intersection. “I’m lucky I found her used, and she didn’t need much work.”

Petrified as you might be by his reckless driving, you still had it within you to make a sound of disgust. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that refers to their car as a woman.”

“What?” he scoffed. He relaxed one of his hands on his thigh as he lounged back with his head cocked, brazen with his newfound vanity. An arrogant curve to his lips as he interpreted your lingering gaze on his fingers splayed across his leg as being impressed by him, his car, his attitude. The whole package. “You don’t gender your bike?”

Without giving it much consideration, you supposed, “I think my bike is a he.”

“Ha! You ride a man to work every day,” he mumbled after the abrupt laugh.

His smile vanished.

The fact he didn’t mean to say that out loud became very apparent.

The blood drained from his face as quickly as it returned. Splotches of blushy red worked its way up his throat, turning his ears the same color as his beloved car’s interior. Same shade as the traffic light up ahead. Same bawdy hue typically associated with the lustful act his brain suggested before his mouth caught up.

Eddie sat at attention. Swallowed against his pulse as he stepped on the clutch and downshifted gears. The leather strapped steering wheel creaked under his dual vice grip. His chest deflated with a heavy breath, and blinking rapidly at the road, his pounding heart trembled his voice, “Please forget I said that.”

Curled into a ball facing the window–stomach clenched painfully tight from uncontrollable laughter–you muffled yourself with your flannel’s collar, “Never!”

~~~

The rest of the car ride was boring in comparison to the start, but you made it to Adrie’s preschool with only a few more unintentional eruptions of giggles when you remembered Eddie’s horrified face, while he drove in abject misery.

He parked the car, and got out quickly.

“How precious,” you said. The squat brick building had aged pine needles clinging to its shingled roof, and Thanksgiving themed art hanging in its windows.

Opening the entrance door brought the waft of buttery biscuits and grape jelly. Eddie guided you with purpose through the makeshift cafeteria, made snug with four child-sized picnic tables in the middle, and fingerpainted art adorning the navy blue walls. His keyring dangled from his belt, drumming against his jeans as he pivoted into a hallway illuminated by the overcast day outside. Gentle music came from the empty nursery to the left, and to the right was a heavy wooden door that did little to quiet the ruckus beyond it.

He paused. The rectangle window above the door knob streaked the side of his face with warm light from within, countering the nervous energy in his eyes as he took a long moment to look at you. You waited for him to speak, but he decided against it.

“I’m excited,” you offered, just above a whisper, wanting to say anything to help ease the eerie vagueness in his expression.

A muscle in his cheek twitched like he was going to smile, but it came across rather apprehensive.

He turned the knob. You walked inside first. Both of you stood still.

The room was as inviting as it was overwhelming. Bright, decorated, and packed with people. People who were dressed in business casual, and broken off into pairs of two. People who knelt to speak on level with someone who displayed a combination of their distinct features. People who mingled with other adults after the little ones were ushered to the front of the room by the teachers. People who gushed over a topic with their heads together, beaming at a miniature version of themselves dressed in a costume. People who contributed in a joint effort to create life, and the reason they were here today.

Parents.

They were parents.

This was an event for parents.

This was a play for parents to attend to see their child perform, and partake in themed crafts with the implication of going home afterwards to spend the Holidays together.

Eddie watched you realize this.

An older woman gravitated towards you two.

This was very, intensely, happening right now, and you had to navigate the whiplash to the best of your improv abilities.

“Good to see you,” she greeted Eddie first, and he gave a pleasant reply, but she didn’t hear it. Her attention was on you, eyes magnified by her thick glasses, and smiling wider than before. “You brought someone,” she all but gasped, speaking to him, though she was clasping your hand. “I’m Mrs. Teresa. And you are?”

Eddie had a response prepared.

“I’m Adrie’s friend!” you blurted.

He pressed his mouth shut and gave you a sideways glance.

“And, uh,” you continued to dig your grave, “and I work with Eddie. I met Adrie one day, and we really hit it off, haha. Next thing I know I’m trick-or-treating with her, and uh.. now I’m here!” When her expression of anticipation did not wane, you followed up your ramble with your name, and she nodded appreciatively, patting the back of your hand.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” she said. “We’re starting soon if you’d like to sit.”

She moved on to a non-platonic couple, and collected their kid to the front where a backdrop of an autumnal forest jostled due to the jittery group of children hiding behind it–most notably, the little girl at the edge who peeped her head out, and jumped up and down.

You both waved at Adrie.

Eddie’s hand landed on your mid-back, and he directed you with an appropriate amount of pressure towards the last row of chairs, choosing two in the middle.

“Smooth,” he commented.

“Shut it.” Sneaking an eyeful of the broad man next to you wearing a blazer under his boiled wool overcoat, you scooted your chair closer to Eddie’s. He must’ve had a similar train of thought, because he did the same to get away from the woman next to him, unwittingly making you two cozier than you were at the movies.

Shoulder to shoulder, he kept his hands in his pockets, and your elbow slotted into the crook his arm created when he slouched towards you.

“Are we not friends?” he asked in reference to your introduction.

You assured him, “The best of reluctant friends.”

The impish smile he shared with you dwindled with each set of hypercritical eyes getting their gawk in before one of the teachers turned off the lights.

The room was overcome with darkness. Blackout curtains suppressed daylight from coming through–for naptime, you assumed–and as children do, they squealed. The teachers soothed them with an amused shush, and turned on two lamps, pointing them like spotlights at the backdrop. Your eyes refused to adjust past the faint outline of your leg pressed flush against Eddie’s, (from hip to calf as a result from seeking support in each other,) but that was beside the point. The show began.

Mrs. Teresa sat off to the side and opened a comically large book. She read the first passage aloud with the pages facing the parents, and out came the kids dressed as pilgrims, brandishing their buckle shoes and hats. In another breath, the ones wearing brown shirts and feathers arrived, and you grimaced at the watered down kid-friendly rewrite of history being acted out, interspersed with songs about sharing.

At least Adrie was dancing around as a carrot with other vegetable-clad children, spelling out what part of the cornucopia they were.

Truly, it could’ve been worse.

But it was during a chorus about friendship sung at the top of their lungs, you unbit your tongue, and leaned into Eddie. “So when are they gonna enslave the Natives and steal their land?”

“Pft!”

Several pairs of shoulders in front of you turned to glare at what they assumed was Eddie snickering at their children’s bad singing before sitting forward, surely perturbed.

He knocked the side of his fist on the top of your thigh, and went to scold you.

But the room was dark.

So dark.

And he misjudged how close you sat.

The cold tip of his nose made contact with the cusp of your cheekbone. His stuttered breath caught your jaw. Your arm slipped further into the curve of his body.

He could’ve realized his mistake. He could’ve stopped there. He could’ve apologized for overstepping the coworker code of conduct. He could’ve reminded himself you’d be gone by the end of the summer. He could’ve dialed it back. He could’ve kept it casual. He could’ve backed off, and dropped the silly reprimand altogether. He could’ve done so many things. But he didn’t. He accepted the risk, and committed to it.

He dipped his head until his plump lips discovered the shell of your ear. Every word vibrated on your skin, rippling goosebumps in the wake of his groaned warning, “You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Trembly, raspy from keeping his voice low. Hardly hitting the hard consonants with his tongue before he was withdrawing.

The humidity from his exhale remained. It cooled on your skin. In the weak lamplight, you shifted your wide eyes to his, and the knowledge of what transpired reflected in his keen gaze gauging the consequences of his actions.

Stuck in a daze of buzzing endorphins, you had no idea how to interpret what the hell just happened.

Careful, he didn’t dare express an emotion that would give his true self away.

Together, you both redirected the focus to his daughter.

It took another few seconds for either of you to discern the back of his hand resting on your thigh. He took it away, and crossed his legs, establishing some much needed space between you.

~~~

The play ended, and the lights were flipped on. Everyone winced. There was an announcement from one of the teachers about a snack and crafts for the parents who were staying; and without an auto shop to attend to, you and Eddie were able to dote over Adrie instead of being forced back into the intimacy of his car.

He stood up and said he’d be right back. Lucky for Adrie, she bolted for you first, and you wasted no time in scooping her up into a crushing hug, grateful for the distraction.

Overflowing with pride, you channel all your love into lauding Adrie in mushy compliments, rubbing your cheek against hers. “Oh my gosh, you did so good! You were the best carrot I’ve ever seen. I’m downright impressed by your performance, remembering all those lines.” Pulling away, you waggled your eyebrows. “You wanna grow up to be an actor? Have people flock to see you on stage?” Her face brightened in renewed excitement.

“On a stage like Da–?”

Eddie intervened out of nowhere, “You two ladies gonna join me?” You startled an imperceivable amount from his sudden appearance–truly, you didn’t even jump–but it was enough to earn his toothy grin. “I reserved two seats at the Queen’s table for the princess and her esteemed guest for the evening.” He bowed with a swept out arm, showing you the way through the sea of adults.

Queen’s table was certainly a way to sell it.

It was a tiny, tiny thing. There were several of them at the back of the room, seating four children at most–or two adults and a four-year-old–and Adrie chose a blue one with a cartoon turkey decoration in the middle.

Half an ass cheek fit in the chair, the tabletop was at your shins, and your knees were tucked to your chest. You met Eddie’s gaze above Adrie’s head, and rubbed her back while he stroked her hair, running his fingers through the tangles.

You assumed, for the most part, he wanted to ignore what happened earlier as if it never happened, and you followed his lead.

Adrie broke you from your musing. There was commotion surrounding the teachers, and she gasped, flapping her hands when she saw what they were carrying.

A palm-sized pumpkin pie was set before her, along with three spoons.

“I made this fresh this morning,” she informed you as if she were running a bakery. And as head baker, she was in charge of portion sizes. She took one spoon and scooped out a modest amount of pumpkin filling, and not a crumb of graham crust more. That one was for Eddie.

For you? She split the rest of the pie, and gave you your half balanced on your spoon, and dug into her half without giving her dad a second glance.

“Hey,” he whined. “Not fair. I’m the one who raised you. Why does she get more?”

Speaking down to him like it was the most obvious thing ever, she rolled her eyes, and said, “Because girls are better, Daddy.”

You didn’t hide your snort.

“Yeah, Eddie.” You taunted him by waving the spoon before sticking the pie chunk in your mouth. “G–irls sh’are better.”

Chewing on his measly portion, he regarded his princess and her esteemed guest with a similar amount of weakness, and the tension at the corners of his eyes softened. He submitted. “Yeah. Girls are better.”

~~~

After the snack was a craft. In this case, hand turkeys. Paper, crayons, markers, and colored pencils were passed out amongst the tables, and a teacher gave instructions to the kiddos.

You grabbed the cartoon turkey decoration in the middle of the table for reference, and began your masterpiece. Adrie kept it classic, tracing her hand. Eddie did.. whatever he was doing, hunched over to hide his paper from you two for the past ten minutes.

“I made a princess turkey,” Adrie announced. Indeed, her turkey was decked out with a flowy dress and pink pointy hennin. In the background was a cobblestone castle.

You showed her your realistic turkey, hoping to impress her, but she pulled a face.

“Ew, he’s ugly.”

Frowning at your drawing, you compared him to the one on the table centerpiece, and felt bad for all the less-than-beautiful turkeys around the world. “That’s just the way he looks..”

Eddie, happy as a clam, slammed his pencil down and flaunted his drawing. “I turned mine into a dragon.”

Converging with Adrie, she whispered in your ear, and as a unit, you judged his hand turkey, weighing the artistic ability versus the outlandish deviation from the original assignment.

After a heated debate, you cleared your throat for his attention.

You both applauded his efforts with a humbling clap.

~~~

It wasn’t long before Adrie grew bored with coloring, and left to play with her friends. They gathered around a chest by the teacher’s desk, and brought out non-Thankgivingsy costumes. She played dress up in a fairy-unicorn combo, and another girl hopped around in a mermaid outfit, complete with a shimmery tail.

Eddie switched seats, flopping into the middle chair with a grunt. He moved Adrie’s drawing aside and set up shop. Made himself right at home. Really just invaded your area like he owned the place.

“Uhh–” You gaped. “Can you kindly remove your knee from my vicinity? You’re blocking both my drawing and the colored pencils.”

He imposed himself more. Nudging his feet wider for the sole reason of bothering you until you were forced to curl in on yourself in an uncomfortable hunch. Actively ignoring your plea by sketching the finishing touches on his dragon.

Resigning your sneer at the back of his head, you agreed, “All right.” If he wanted to play that game, you would too. You snatched the orange pencil you needed for your turkey’s feathers, and shoved the markers to the far side of the table, outside his reach.

Giving him no time to prepare a counterattack, you looped your arm around his leg to his shin, and hugged his thigh to your chest with your flexed bicep, locking his knee in a sleeper hold any wrestler would be proud of, preventing him from getting up.

Yes, things scattered as you did this. Yes, people rubbernecked. No, you didn’t care, and Eddie didn’t, either.

Well, he cared a little, even if the grumpy persona he donned cracked with each failed frown.

His mouth curled into a grin despite his resistance. “I can’t have the red marker?” The syllables were caught amongst his hissy laugh at your ridiculousness–tip of his tongue to his teeth, voice rich with affection, and eyes squinted from pure adoration–a short question articulated through his mirth, with his chest braced against your arm after accepting the position of your entwined bodies, and another beg for you to understand on his lips. “How am I supposed to outline the fire he’s breathing, huh?”

He furrowed his brows to appear angry, but it was futile. His smile was here to stay. And what a treat it was to get lost in the moment.

At any point he could’ve easily broken from your hold. Hell, you hardly had his leg secured in your embrace after he shook his hair out of his face, and your muscles were rendered to warm jelly. But still, he played along.

You hunkered down and returned to your drawing with his jeans rubbing on the underside of your chin. “I once heard of these magic words you could use to get what you want.. if you ask nicely.” He hummed a disgruntled noise to show his displeasure. Poor him, being beaten at this own game, and served with a dose of his own medicine.

Incredulous, he huffed, “Magic words?” But there was something suspicious about his tone..

Something just not quite right, indeed..

Without looking, you snatched his hand seconds before his mischievous fingers wiggled their way to your ribs. You interlaced an assortment of index, middle, and thumbs in a twist of power, and dragged your gaze away from your artwork to mock him. “So predictable, Eddie.”

“Am I?”

An aware glimmer from how unpredictable he was half an hour ago presented itself as a gorgeous flash of slyness across his eyes, crinkling his crow’s feet at the corners–

The metal feet of Eddie’s abandoned chair scraped along the floor.

You disengaged from each other, cheeks burning with fresh shame.

Mrs. Teresa had a yellow paper folder tucked under her arm. This was not favorable for Adrie on account of her sharp heel-turn when she saw her teacher sit at the table with her preschool assessment opened for her dad to pour over.

You couldn’t read anything from your angle, but it appeared to be a collection of Adrie’s assignments and a progress report with many notes written in the margins.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, Mrs. Teresa licked her fingertips, and flipped through the pages, updating him since the last time they did this.

The conversation was about the places Adrie excelled, and where she could improve. In regards to education, she was surpassing where she should be, and she was a quick learner. Kindergarten would be no trouble for her. It was sharing, and social interactions she was struggling with, despite her ability to make friends.

Mrs. Teresa guided Eddie towards a more serious discussion about these concerns by asking him if he told her ‘no’ frequently, and how she reacted when he did. You’d never seen him so nervous. Fidgeting, bouncing, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. Stuttering through a weak admission that he has trouble disappointing her.

He was uncomfortable, and you did your due diligence to tune them out. But it was no use.

Surveying the room, your mind was consumed by Eddie once more. For a different reason, and inciting a different emotion.

Parents at the other tables whispered observations about his mannerisms into their partner’s ear. About his disheveledness. His weirdness. His clothes. His nonconformity. His last name. The whole package.

He was the father to the sweet little girl they invited to birthday parties, but never stayed after dropping her off with a gift? This was the man who never spoke. Never lingered long enough to put the rumors at rest. Never denied them either, so, logically, the gossip about him must be true.

“As you know, Adrie will throw tantrums from time to time when you drop her off,” Mrs. Teresa eased him into the topic. “When she cries, she asks for you, and it’s difficult to calm her down. This is abnormal for how long she’s been enrolled here. Have you been working on those techniques I taught you to help steer her towards more independence?” Her inquiry was kind, and sympathetic. It was valid, but his first instinct was to defend himself.

“I-I, well.” He took a shaky breath, and leaned towards her with his elbow on his thigh to cup his hand around his mouth, and sliding it to wring the back of his neck. “She’s–It’s just, she’s all I have, a-a-and–”

Mrs. Teresa rubbed his shoulder.

Though you were missing context for what Adrie’s teacher was trying to correct him from doing, you wanted to show your support. Lessen his stress. Afterall, the integrity of dialed back crumbled when his lips grazed your ear, and following his lead culminated in you being invited into his daughter’s world, so what’s the worst that could happen if you took a risk and comforted him? ..Besides discovering if David’s Auto Repair had an HR department.

Eddie’s pitch fluctuated as he bounced his leg harder, “When I’m home, I just want to make her happy–and, she’s, she’s–” You placed your hand on his knee, and stroked your thumb over the skin peeking out from the rips in his jeans. His inhale hitched at the sensation.

Without otherwise addressing what you did, he covered your hand with his own, crooked his cold fingertips into the spaces between yours, and parsed his thoughts. Slowed his mind. Ceased his nervous habit of bouncing his leg. Appreciated the gesture, even as the tacky silver spider ring on his pinky taunted you.

“I’ve been better about telling her ‘no’ lately,” he said more clearly. “The tantrums are happening less, and they don’t last as long when she sees I’m not budging. But the other stuff.. I don’t know.”

“Do you still carry her?” she asked, and he avoided eye contact.

“Yeah.”

“She’s almost five. She’s not a baby anymore, dear. It’s best to wean her now before it becomes a bigger problem.”

“I know.”

Mrs. Teresa gave him a motherly pat on his back, and smiled at you–his coworker–and rearranged Adrie’s folder to the bottom of the stack she had, and moved on to another table.

For a while, Eddie twisted the hair at his nape around his finger. Eyes fixated on the crayon box. You waited for him to come around, and when he did, he smiled and squeezed your hand before sliding his clammy palms to his thigh, allowing you to let go of his knee.

His chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “Sorry, was I shaking the table?”

Yes? No? Maybe? You weren’t paying attention to notice. “Yeah, like an earthquake,” you joked.

“My bad,” he said with not a hint of remorse displayed in his delighted expression.

On cue, serving as the perfect interruption to the prolonged stare you gave each other, another autumnal craft was being distributed amongst the parents remaining, and Adrie set her chin on top of where your and her dad’s shoulders touched.

Mrs. Teresa’s advice regarding his codependency went ignored for another day.

Eddie shut his eyes and pressed his temple to Adrie’s, humming contently to himself, cherishing the affection he ached for.

Adrie, on the other hand, gasped when she spied what was on the table, and rang his ears, “Glitter!”

~~~

Thank God Eddie was a safer driver with Adrie in the car; your stomach couldn’t handle another queasy acceleration through a yellow light while you made a concentrated effort to get flakes of gold glitter out of your eyebrows, having no recollection of how they got there.

In her car seat behind you, Adrie regaled you with the plot points of the latest episode of My Little Pony Tales, chirping away happily about the interpersonal relationships between the cartoon horses until Eddie pulled into the alleyway behind the auto shop, and you turned around to say your goodbyes, thanking her for inviting you.

You opened the car door and heard Eddie do the same. You were about to ask him why he was getting out too, when he went up to the employee door and unlocked it for you.

Right, you left your keys in your backpack.

Rationally you knew he wasn’t a mind reader, but you were still sheepish when getting your bike, wheeling it out to stand across from him in what was a dreadful amount of silence.

“So, uh,” he faltered in the same rush of feelings crashing like a wave over the both of you. “Thank you for coming today. I know Adrie appreciated having you there.” He went shy, scratching the back of his head before putting his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about the mess.”

You shrugged at the mention of glue on your sleeve. “It’s whatever. I’m just glad I got to watch her perform.” Dumbass move, bringing up the play when what happened during it influenced every bit of this awkward interaction. You hurried to move past it, “Plus, the pumpkin pie was nice.” And what happened afterwards when we held hands–twice–was nicer.

Jesus Christ.

Reeling in the desire to bolt, you gambled on one last question before going home to scream into your pillow. “Uhm–Can I ask you something?”

“I guess,” he answered with a wary tone.

“Why do people look at you weird?” You motioned at his clothes. “Besides the obvious.”

The deep creases between his brows from years of scrunching his face in a sour expression became more prominent. “There’s a lot of rumors out there about me.. Some are true, some aren’t.”

“Do you want to tell me which ones are true?”

Inside the car, Adrie swayed in her seat, belting a tune neither of you could hear.

“I will some other time, okay?” He flicked his gaze to you, saw the understated kindness of your soft smile, and diverted his attention to the rock he was grinding under his shoe; bashful despite the burden of his reputation affecting the instant sag in his posture. “I will,” he promised again, giving you a curt nod.

You walked your bike up beside him, and bumped his elbow. “Hey, don’t look so glum,” you insisted. “Whatever it is, I’ll still go with you to parent-teacher conferences as Adrie’s best friend so you don’t look so painfully single.”

You threw your head back in a witchy cackle as you hopped on your bike and rode away.

And it was when you were in the familiar territory of woods flocking either side of the dirt road leading to Robin’s house that you gave into the urge, and released an embarrassed, guttural, annoyed groan of one word, scaring the blackbirds in the nearby trees, “Why?”

Single, single, single. Good God, could you be more obvious?

Dialed back was a lost cause from the start.

“Well, whatever happens, happens, I guess.” And you finished it with, “Idiot.”

————

Eddie had been sitting in his car for all of two seconds when he patted the side of his seat for the back recliner, and cranked it until he was almost laid flat.

Driving his hands from his nape and upward, he gathered his hair between his fingers and covered his face, mashing the curly ends over his eyes screwed shut from red-hot shame.

He inhaled deeply, and reprimanded his dumbassery in the loudest groan. “That was so–incredibly–not casual.”

“What’s the matter, Daddy?” Adrie asked, sounding like a therapist as she pinched her sticky fingers together to shift the gold glitter from one to the other.

Composing himself, he finished dragging his palms down his cheeks, and combed away the strands stuck on his eyelashes. He blinked. “It’s nothing.” Nothing at all. He definitely wasn’t thinking of how fucked he was, believing he could handle today without taking things too far.

But it wasn’t how he almost kissed your cheek that bothered him the most, nor the multiple scenarios he supplied in effort to hold your hand, or touch you in general.

No. It was worse.

Staring unfocused at the ceiling, his lips parted with a realization.

His whisper was for himself, and his heart only. “I didn’t even care that people were staring at me today..” The mercy of your presence brought a line of water to his eyes. Not enough to flow over, but enough for him to notice his loneliness.

“Can you invite Miss Mouse to Thanksgiving?”

“No, she has her own Thanksgiving to attend,” he told her, and held his hand out, making a grabby motion at her. She understood and put her shoe in his palm so he could squeeze her ankle. Any affection. Any at all. Giving or receiving.

Knowing the answer, he asked, “You really like her, huh?”

“She’s my favorite.”

“Yeah, she’s my favorite too,” he said, in whatever capacity she meant, he meant it as well. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t, but he did.

Massaging his thumb and forefinger into circles on his forehead, he meditated on the right thing to do. Meaning, he thought about the hundreds of reasons he should put an end to this, to discourage Adrie’s relationship with you, and to resist the temptation of forming his own; and instead he latched onto the idea of him not appearing single for a little longer than his logical brain was comfortable with.

Coworker, risk, flighty personality, yada, yada..

He snorted. “Yeah, I should probably stop this.”

Adrie rolled her leg in his grasp to get him to let go. “Can we stop at McDonald’s first?”

“Wha–?” After a moment of confusion, he sighed. “Give me a break, kid.”

#i’m obsessed #recs!

4K notes · View notes

angelicmunson · 1 year

Text

Give You The Moon

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: had you known getting your first tattoo would end up with you being in love with eddie munson, you might have gotten it a lot sooner.

word count: 17.8k

warnings: smut, probably inaccurate descriptions of tattooing processes (i tried my best!), strangers to friends to lovers, fluff

a/n: this one took forever but it’s finally done!!!! i’m sorry for the wait but hopefully u guys like it enough to forgive me :D

༄

You’ve always wanted a tattoo, and you figured now was as good a time as ever. Having just moved to Indianapolis, all by yourself, one change could lead to another.

New city, new apartment, new tattoo.

It may be irresponsible of you, but you settled for the first shop you found, the one closest to where you lived. A short walk away, harder to back out of. You knew you wouldn’t regret getting it, you just had to force yourself to sit through it, to commit.

The wind whips at your cheeks as you make your way to your consultation. You pull your sleeves over your hands and hope that it’ll be warm enough.

Once you’ve made it, the bell above the door rings to signify your entrance. A girl with brown curly hair sits at the front desk, a warm smile on her face. The place has dark floors, walls covered with different sketches that distract you for a moment.

“Hi! How can I help you?” The girl says, drawing your attention back to her. You walk the few steps up to the front desk.

“Hi, um, I’m here for a consultation,” you give her your name and the time of the appointment. “With Eddie.”

She shuffles about for a few seconds before finding what she was looking for, “yep, perfect. I’ll let him know you’re here. I’m Nancy, by the way.”

“Thanks, Nancy.”

She goes to the saloon type doors next to the desk, you watch them swing back and forth. You’re eventually drawn back to the art on the walls, eyes scanning the different styles and images. Your hands fidget with the ends of your sleeves.

A picture of the staff steals your attention next, Nancy standing next to a girl with shorter hair, their hands interlocked. Then, there’s a boy with brown hair and a kind smile. The one who really keeps you looking is the boy with long dark hair, his tattoos the most prominent.

A second later, that same boy is walking through the doors and calling your name.

“Oh, hi. That’s me,” you reply. Then wince at your awkwardness.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he gives you a close-mouthed smile, barely there. He’s even prettier in person than he is in that photo. “Follow me.”

He seems distant, sort of cold and you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Your nerves pick up even more.

He ushers you through the saloon doors, then through a room with three tattoo beds that’s filled with the buzzing of the machines and the other people from the picture and their clients. You end up in an office type room, certificates hang on the wall behind the desk.

Eddie takes a seat behind the desk that’s presumably his, papers scattered about and a cup overflowing with pens and pencils sitting atop of it. You stand by the door, shifting on your feet.

“You can have a seat,” he offers, gesturing to the chair facing him. He waits until you’re settled to continue. “So, is this your first tattoo?”

“Yes,” you feel nervous and you’re not sure if it’s the prospect of committing to the tattoo or if it’s the way Eddie’s gaze doesn’t move away from you.

“Well, I’m honored to be your first,” he winks, your heart stumbling at the innuendo. “So, what are we thinking?”

“The moon, on the back of my shoulder,” you pause, but he nods for you to keep going, to give more detail. “I wanted it to be a gibbous moon, almost full but not quite.”

“Alright. Got an idea for size?”

“Uh, kinda small. I think?” You huff, frustrated with your lack of an answer, “sorry I’m not so prepared.”

You stuff your hands under your thighs so that they’ll stop twisting in your lap. You cross your ankles and look down, slightly embarrassed at the way you’re acting in front of him. You were meant to grow in the city, to be better, but so far, not much has changed.

You don’t have friends, your job is slow, and you’re terrible with new people.

“‘S fine,” you think he’s being reassuring. “How’s this sound: we can try some circle stencils on for size now, then we’ll know for your appointment.”

“Okay. Thank you, Eddie.”

“‘Course. I’ll be right back.”

His exit gives you a couple of minutes to try and sort yourself out, to calm down. You want to be able to do this without the stumbles or hiccups that you’re so used to. You blow out a breath and wait for him to come back.

The way he carries himself confuses you, his almost detached nature making you overthink way too much. Although, he’s not being cruel or unkind, he’s just… you’re not sure if there’s a word to describe it.

He comes back with a couple of stencils, some sort of solution, a disposable razor, and paper towels.

“You’re gonna have to take your sweater off,” he says, setting everything down on the desk. When you don’t move to do so right away, he stares at you, waiting.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

You slip off your sweater, your tank top underneath riding up ever so slightly with the movement. You pull it back down and set your discarded sweater on the chair behind you.

“Which shoulder?” He asks, putting on a pair of medical gloves and grabbing the razor.

“Here,” you slip the straps of both your shirt and your bra off the shoulder you choose, turning in the seat to face away from him so he’s able to do what he needs to.

He brushes your hair towards the front of your shoulder, clearing the spot he needs. He cleans off the area, then shaves it to make sure the stencil will stick, all in silence. He’s quick to apply it, his hands gentle and his breath hitting your skin in a way that has you shifting.

“Don’t move,” he chides quietly.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything more until he’s done, “okay. Have a look.”

There’s a mirror on one of the walls, and you walk over to get a good look at the size of the circle. You know it’s only the first one, but you think it’s perfect. It looks right and you’re excited to see it when it’s actually the design you want.

“I want this size,” you say, turning to face him.

“Are you sure? It’s only the first one.”

“I know, but it’s good. I like it.”

“I don’t want you changing your mind, okay?”

“I won’t! I’m sure, promise.”

He sighs, then wipes the stencil away and takes off the gloves with a snap. He takes his seat again as you put your sweater back on, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“When did you wanna book it for?” He asks.

“Whenever you’re free is fine, I’m not picky.” You don’t have anywhere else to be, really.

“You’re not the best at answering questions, huh?”

You think he’s trying to make a joke but all you manage to say is, “no, sorry.”

“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to,” he grabs something that looks like a planner then says, “I have a spot next week, if that works.”

Eddie tells you the specific day and time, and you tell him that it works. He hands you some papers to sign and read and bring back with you for next time. “Nancy will sort out payment and stuff at the desk. That’s it for today.”

“Okay. Thank you so much,” you make your way back to the front quickly, eager to go home and try and forget the entire interaction. He certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, and you didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He was quiet, reserved, and hard to read, but he was good, you knew from the drawings in his office. He was also intriguing; a puzzle you wanted to solve.

You sort out everything with Nancy, who makes you feel a ton better about your consultation. “You look far too worried,” she says.

“I just don’t think he likes me very much.”

“No, trust me, that’s just Eddie. He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure.”

“I hope so. Anyway, thanks, Nancy.”

“See you,” she says as you walk out the door.

That night, you cuddle up and fall asleep thinking about Eddie and his demeanor, his warm hands on your skin.

He couldn’t get you out of his head, and that rarely happened to Eddie. He was used to meaningless things and he can’t remember the last time he felt anything for someone.

Not that he felt anything for you. You’d only met once.

Eddie spent the night after your consultation drawing way too many moons in his sketchbook, staining his hands with ink and pencil.

It’s two days later when you hear from Eddie again.

Your phone rings just as you’re about to shower before bed, the sun long gone though the city stays bright with lights. You hug your robe tighter around yourself and walk to where the phone hangs on the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” an utterance of your name, a tone you recognize. “It’s Eddie… from Corroded Coffin Tattoos.”

“Of course! Hi, Eddie. Was there something wrong?”

“Oh, no. No,” he pauses, you hear him shuffling around on the other line. “I had a cancellation tomorrow and thought you might want the spot?”

You hate that the fact that he thought of you makes your stomach whirl. Of course, he could’ve called countless clients before you, but you like the idea that he dialed your number first better. You twist the phone cord in your fingers.

“That would be great. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”

If only you knew, he thinks. If only you knew how much he really did think of you—it was almost infuriating. How one person could have such an effect on him when he really doesn’t know them at all. He knows that you’re pretty, and you say ‘sorry’ far too much, and you smell really good, that’s all.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, see you-”

He hangs up before you can finish. You stare at the phone for a second after putting it back, wondering if that whole exchange truly happened, if you just dreamt up the whole thing. You pinch yourself until it hurts. You’re definitely awake.

You replay the conversation over and over, wondering why he hung up so abruptly, worrying about how you’re going to act tomorrow.

Eddie called you from his office, even though it was well past closing for the shop. He really needs to get himself together. He can’t be thinking so much about his client. About anyone, really. He can’t.

His head is resting in his arms when the door to his office opens. There’s only one person that never knocks and that’s Steve. He looks up and sees him leaning against the doorframe.

“Why are you still here, Steve?”

“Why are you still here?” He retorts.

“Got some stuff to do,” is all Eddie says.

“Your mood doesn’t have anything to do with the girl you just talked to on the phone, does it?”

Of all the people he could have been friends with, Steve was the most unlikely for Eddie, and yet here they are. Coworkers, and close friends. It’s almost annoying how quickly he can tell what exactly the issue is.

“I dunno. She won’t get out of my head,” Eddie shrugs, glancing down at the sketchbook he has opened on his desk, the one filled with drawings of your tattoo. “It’s annoying.”

“That’s a lot of moons, man,” Steve says as he walks closer.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying. Maybe this is a good thing. I haven’t seen you with a girlfriend, like, ever.”

“Who said anything about a girlfriend?”

No, if anything, Eddie’s eager to get your appointment over with, to get you out of his head for good.

“Yeah, okay. Can't wait to say ‘I told you so.’ You know it won’t hurt to open up a little, man.”

Steve means well, Eddie knows he does, but the thing is it does hurt him. Or, it used to. He was used to being judged, someone the town saw as a character rather than a human. The best thing he ever did was move away, but that doesn’t mean he left the hurt behind, too.

You show up about fifteen minutes early for the appointment. You gave yourself far too much time, you think, because now you just have to sit and wait and the anticipation is making you more nervous the longer it goes.

The front desk was being manned by a different person today, “hi! I’m Robin, how are you?”

She talks quickly and with enthusiasm, like every word is exciting and important. You like her already.

“Hi, I’m good, thanks. I have an appointment with Eddie,” she nods in confirmation, looking down at the schedule in front of her. “I’m a little early though so… no rush.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, gives us more time to sort out the paperwork and stuff. He’s just finishing up with someone else so it won’t be too long.” She smiles at you.

“Here, I have these from my consultation,” you hand her the pages Eddie had given you to sign. You chew at the inside of your cheek as she reads over them hoping you filled everything out correctly.

“That’s great! I’ll just go tell him you’re here,” she goes through the familiar saloon doors, the buzzing of tattoo guns and light conversations slipping through.

When she comes back she informs you that he’s only going to be a couple more minutes, and instead of telling you to go take a seat, she asks, “first tattoo?”

“Yeah, I’m nervous. Mostly excited,” you give her a small smile, one that makes hers widen.

“Don’t worry! I had to take like five breaks for my first one and now here I am.” It’s then that you finally notice the ink peeking from her long-sleeve shirt, at her wrists, and on one side of her neck. “Eddie’s great, and I’m sure you’ve got great pain tolerance—I can sense it.”

You laugh, she’s somehow managed to make you feel much better in the short time you’ve been talking to her. Eddie walks out, greeted by the sound of your laughter and he almost stops in his tracks. Almost.

“Robin, stop chatting up my clients,” he says.

“I’m just being friendly, Eddie! You should try it out,” she replies.

You can tell it’s in good nature, because he ruffles her hair as he passes and leaves it there. From what you’ve seen so far, the workers here are close; a tight-knit group of people and you admire that friendship, long for it.

“Follow me,” he says. It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you because of your distraction, but when you look up you find him staring at you, waiting.

“Okay,” you trail behind him as he leads you to the bed furthest from the doors, the one tucked away in the back of the room.

“You eat and drink water before coming? I don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m good.”

He looks at you like he’s unsure, but moves along anyway. Eddie’s only worried because you’re his client and he has to, no other reason. He can’t be worrying because he thinks you’re pretty and sweet and far too kind. There’s absolutely no way.

“So, I did a couple sketches,” a couple is an understatement. “Have a look and let me know which one you wanna go with.”

You take a look at the five he’s laid out, all as you asked. Gibbous moons, both waxing and waning, some shaded more than others, some simple outlines. The one that catches your eye is a happy medium, fine lines with dotting for shading. It’s beautiful, exactly what you envisioned.

“This one. It’s really good.”

He tips his head down, “thanks. I’ll go get my stuff and we’ll get started.”

He’s not gone for very long, though it’s enough time for you to watch one of the artists at work, the boy with the brown hair. You watched the way he moved the needle, only looking away when Eddie came back and grabbed your attention.

“Gonna do the stencil like before, so you’ll need to move your shirt,” he says, looking down at his station and getting everything ready.

“Would it be easier if I just, uh, take it off?”

That makes his hands hover, paused in his task. He tries to shake it off; he’s seen a ton of people shirtless at the job and he’s never been affected by that, so why should he be now?

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Okay,” you decide it must be easier without your shirt—less things in the way—so you take it off and try not to worry about it.

Eddie applies the stencil just as he did a couple days ago. Gentle, precise hands that you’ll feel the ghost of for hours after your appointment, you’re sure. His head bent close as he pushes the edges down so you can feel him breathing, catch his scent for a moment.

When he’s done, he holds up a wide handheld mirror for you to get a look at it without having to walk all the way to the mirror on the opposite side of the room.

Again, you’re impressed by his drawing, and seeing it on your skin makes you realize that you’ll carry a part of Eddie forever after this. His linework, his trace.

“So,” he prompts you to speak as your thoughts have taken you away, “what do you think?”

“It’s great. Really.”

“You’re sure that’s where you want it?”

He double checks every single detail. That you’ve picked the one you want, that it’s the right size, that you really want to do this. He does so until you’re laying on your stomach on the bed, positioned so he can work comfortably at your side.

“Okay, I’m gonna do a small line, just so you see how it feels,” he warns you, and you tense in anticipation. “Relax.”

“Sorry. ‘M just nervous.”

“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

He manages to ease you with very few words.

The sound of the tattoo gun sounds louder when it’s so close, more daunting, but you’re eager to get started only to get rid of the anticipation. He draws a short line after giving you a quiet warning of, “here we go.”

It’s not nearly as bad as you’d expected. A scratch, a small sting, but it’s manageable.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad.”

“Told you you’d be fine,” he says so softly you almost miss it.

Your head is turned to the side where he sits, and you can see him in your peripheral vision as he works. His legs clad in dark, ripped denim, the tattoos peeking through. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to show his forearms. You shut your eyes and try to stop staring.

He works quietly, though you can sometimes hear him humming along to whatever song is playing. You don’t try to make conversation because you don’t want to be a distraction.

It doesn’t take too long before he gets to the shading, telling you, “some people find this part a bit more painful. So you know.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He’s right, it is more painful and you find it harder to keep yourself occupied by looking around. You find it harder to ignore the feeling of the needle.

Eddie notices. He doesn’t know how, but he notices. Maybe it’s the way your eyes are squeezed shut at certain points, the hand of the arm furthest from him bunched in a fist. He decides he wants to ease the process for you in any way he can.

“So, why the moon?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Why’d you choose the moon?”

“Oh, sorry,” you don’t see him shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I’ve always loved it, how it has a cycle. The way it looks in the sky. Just, everything. Looking at it was a way of reminding myself I’m alive, kind of. ‘Cause I can still see it. I guess I chose this one to remind myself that even if it’s not whole now, it will be eventually.”

He wants to pick at your brain more, because he thinks it must be a beautiful place to be able to describe things the way you just did. You talk like it means a lot to you and the fact that you shared it with him so openly when you’ve been so quiet isn’t lost on him.

“That’s really…wow.”

“Sorry. I kinda rambled there.”

“No, no. I’ve just never looked at it that way.”

He asks you more questions after that, trying his best to keep your mind off of the needle and on the conversation. He asks how long you’ve been in the city, then, why you moved, and you give him honest answers for all of it.

Not long at all. Because I needed to get out, to be somewhere nobody knows me.

That made him think of Hawkins, of every person there who called him a freak, who looked at him like one. He needed to get out, too.

“Alright, you’re all done, just gotta wrap it up for you,” he says, putting the gun down and wiping over your skin one more time. “Do you wanna have a look first?”

“Please,” you nod.

He likes the way the word sounds coming out of your mouth—he gives himself a mental slap for that.

You sit up and he holds the mirror just as he did before. You can't help but gasp when you see it, exactly what you pictured. He did such a good job that you resist the urge to hug him for it.

“Eddie, it’s beautiful.”

So are you, he thinks.

“I’m glad you like it,” is what he says.

“I love it. Seriously, thank you.”

“It’s my job. Let me wrap it and then you’re good to go.”

He does, carefully and with the same gentle hands that have become far too familiar by now. When he’s done, he takes off his gloves with a snap, and hands you a pamphlet and some cleaning products to use at home.

“Thanks again, Eddie. You’re really good,” you say, putting your shirt back on.

“No problem,” he flashes you a small smile, one you’ll hold onto. “Um, here’s the card for the shop. You know, in case you need anything. Just ask for me, okay?”

“I will, thank you,” you take the card from him, your fingers brush his as you do. The name of the shop is written on it in bold, sharp letters: Corroded Coffin Tattoos. Underneath it, the phone number.

You’re led back through the saloon doors and met with both Robin and Nancy by the desk. They’re talking with wide smiles and rosy cheeks, their hands tangled loosely.

“I don’t pay you two to flirt,” Eddie says, retreating back where the two of you just came from.

Robin slips away, presumably done with her shift at the desk now that Nancy’s back. She gave you a kind goodbye, and makes sure that you promise if you ever want another tattoo to go back there.

“How was it?” Nancy asks you.

“Good! I’m really happy with it.”

“That’s what we like to hear! Eddie’s great. He gave me my first tattoo, too. Robin was mad for ages and then made sure she gave me the next one,” she grins. “Anyway, let’s get you taken care of.”

You pay for the tattoo, and then, you’re off.

It’s times like now that you wish you had someone to talk to, because you’re having way too many thoughts about your tattoo artist that you might never see again and you need to know if you’re reading into things too much. You need to know if his hands linger longer than they need to on other clients, if you imagined the way his eyes stayed on you, too.

You settle for overthinking on your walk home instead.

You didn’t think you’d end up using the card Eddie gave you. Not unless you were calling to book another tattoo, but here you were, leaning on the wall by your phone and dialing the number.

It was just a quick question, really, but you were still nervous. You’d only gotten the tattoo yesterday and already you were calling.

You’d realized when reading the aftercare instructions he gave you, that you didn’t have any unscented, gentle lotion like it called for, and you wanted to know if he had any suggestions for what works best. You tried going to the pharmacy, but the options were overwhelming.

You ended up buying something anyway because of how long you spent there. A useless magazine that was the closest thing to you when you noticed how some of the employees were looking at you. Some girl reading way too many lotion labels.

Yeah, definitely embarrassing, and definitely something you won’t let yourself live down.

The phone doesn’t ring for long before someone picks up, “Corroded Coffin Tattoos, Nancy speaking.”

“Hi Nancy,” you tell her your name.

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Um, Eddie told me to call and ask for him if I had any questions,” you explain. “I was wondering if he’s available for a minute?”

“He did?” She sounds surprised.

“Um. Yeah.”

“Huh. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead. I’ll put you on hold and let him know, okay?”

“‘Kay. Thanks, Nancy.”

Desperately, you try not to overthink what she said. That he doesn’t usually get his clients to talk to him for things as minor as this. Why would he want you to, then? You don’t know why every little thing he does sends your mind into a whirlwind of ‘why’s and ‘what does this mean’s.

It’s maybe two minutes—silence filled by your thoughts—before the phone is picked up again.

“Hello?”

You can tell that it’s Eddie.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you but I just had a quick question for you.”

Eddie knows it’s you; he’s not expecting a call from anyone else. Not that he was expecting yours, it’s just that you’re the only client he’s even told to ask for him. He tries to cover that up by saying, “who’s this?”

“Oh, guess I should’ve said. Sorry,” you remind him of your name, as if he could forget it.

“Don’t be sorry. What’s your question?”

He’s quick to get to the point, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s eager to help, or if it’s that he’s eager to get the conversation over with. Nancy’s words replay in your head. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead.

“I noticed that for aftercare, it says to use gentle lotion,” he hums along, urging you to continue. “I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant and I even went to the pharmacy but I didn’t know which one was good-”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off. “I’ve got some here at the shop. Do you have time today to come pick it up?”

“Yeah! Yes, that’s great. Thanks so much, I promise I’ll get out of your hair after this.”

He doesn’t like the way that sits with him. He doesn’t want you out of his hair. He wants to see you again, he’s realized, and it’s almost too much for him to handle. The way he feels about you is brand new for him—never felt before. He wants to know everything about you.

“‘Course. See you soon, then.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

He hangs up.

You leave a bit after that. Not too soon, because you didn’t want to make it seem like you didn’t have other things to do, even though you didn’t. You’ve memorized the walk to the store at this point, and it doesn’t take you long to get there. You’re greeted by Nancy once again, only in person this time.

“Welcome back,” she says.

“Hi,” you smile at her, you hope it doesn’t look like a nervous grimace. “Um, Eddie told me to come here to pick something up.”

“Right, okay,” she stands, heading in the direction of his office, pausing to say, “he must really like you.”

Great. Some more material for you to analyze about Eddie and how he acts with you. It’s odd to have someone on your mind so constantly, to try and make sense of it. He has something about him that pulls you in, and you’re not sure how, or why, but you let yourself be pulled.

His hair is tied in a low bun when you see him, his bangs and stray strands of hair make it look messy, like he hasn’t had the time to redo it. And yet, he had the time to speak to you on the phone and now.

“Moon girl,” he says, lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.

“Eddie, hi,” your hands twist themselves into the sleeves of your knitted sweater. “Thank you for taking time for me, I know it was a dumb question.”

“It wasn’t. I’m glad you care enough to make sure you’re using the right things,” he says. He holds out the lotion, “speaking of.”

“Perfect. How much do I owe?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He probably shouldn’t make a habit of giving things away for free to girls he thinks are pretty and that confuse him way too much. For you, though, he’ll make an exception. It’s not like anybody else is driving him nuts like you are, anyway.

“No, you’ve done so much already. Please let me pay.”

“It’s fine, I promise that one bottle of lotion won’t hurt me.” But this possibly being the last time I see you might, he thinks.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Bye, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Bye, moon girl.”

You look down at your feet as he walks away, letting your hair curtain your face. You really shouldn’t be feeling so giddy because of a fucking bottle of lotion and a new nickname, but you are.

“Holy shit,” Robin’s voice comes from the front desk. You hadn’t noticed, but she must’ve walked out at some point during your quick interaction with Eddie.

You curse yourself and try to hide the smile that threatens to spread across your face. “Hey, Robin.”

“Well hello,” she’s looking at you like she knows something you don’t, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know how you did it but he’s never acted like that with any client. Like, ever.”

You don’t say anything, biting the inside of your lip to distract from the butterflies in your stomach.

“And, I’m so glad you’re here,” she changes the subject, thankfully. “Because Eddie mentioned you’re new to the city and god knows I could use friends who don’t work here and I wanted to know if you wanted to come for drinks sometime?”

Eddie spoke about you? Robin wants to be your friend? You can’t wrap your head around either of those things. It’s been so long since you’ve hung out with someone who wasn’t family. And even then, it was tiring, not fun.

You realize she’s still waiting for an answer when she clears her throat.

“Sorry, um. Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Yay!” She cheers. “What’s your number? I’ll call you next time there’s plans.”

You write it down on a scrap piece of paper for her, and she beams at you when she takes it.

“Eddie‘s gonna be thanking me for this one later,” she teases. “I think we’ll be great friends.”

You look at her smile, at her crooked tie that rests atop an oversized button up. You think she might be right about that.

As soon as you leave Robin and Nancy go to Eddie’s office. An intervention of sorts. They walk in without knocking (the door was open anyway) and stand in front of him with some look.

He’s pretty sure he knows why they’re both staring at him with knowing smiles, but he tries to ignore them and busy himself with some sketches.

Robin’s not having it, so she sits in the chair across from Eddie, kicking her feet up onto his desk.

“What do you want?” He sighs.

“Um, hello? Are we not gonna pretend that you weren’t flirting with her in your own, weird, Eddie way?” Robin starts.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come on,” Nancy joins the conversation, on Robin’s side as always. “You’ve never told a client to ask for you, or given them free stuff.”

“Yeah! And, you were all ‘see you around, moon girl, hey let me stare at you and then not do anything about it,’” Robin lowers her voice, imitating him very inaccurately.

“I don’t know. She was nice, that’s all.”

“Nice enough to break your little rule of being mister nonchalant. I think you like her,” she’s right, but Eddie doesn’t even want to admit that to himself, let alone his friends.

He doesn’t say anything, shifting in his seat. He knows they both mean well, but he doesn’t know what to think and an ambush isn’t necessarily helping that. The pit in his stomach he’s had since he realized he might never see you again hasn't lessened, and the memory of your perfume or the feeling of your skin hasn’t faded.

So, maybe you did have an effect on him, but it doesn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter in the first place because he wouldn’t let it.

“Look, Eddie, we’re not trying to make you admit anything,” Nancy says, “we just noticed that you acted differently with her. Steve did, too, I’m sure. And it was a good different. You seemed less guarded, I guess.”

“What she said!” Robin adds.

“Yeah, thanks guys, but it’s nothing, okay?”

They share a look, one that Eddie doesn’t understand but he’s gotten used to their silent communications over time. He scratches at the back of his neck, nervous about what they’re thinking.

“Anyway, I got her number,” Robin says, holding the small paper you wrote on for Eddie to see.

He grabs it, staring at your handwriting and the small heart you added next to your name. He fights a smile at the sight of it, cute and lopsided and though he doesn’t know you well, it’s very you.

He clears his throat, handing the paper back. “I’ve got her number on file already.”

“It’s not for you! It’s for me and Nance. We’re gonna be friends,” she grins, proud.

“We’re probably gonna invite her next time we go out, and wanted you to know. Just in case you care,” Nancy says, explaining.

Just in case you care.

He does care, he thinks. He cares way too much for someone he’s met three times and knows very little about. He knows you’re pretty, you apologize a ton, you fidget with your hands when you’re nervous, and you like the moon.

He knows that he cares what you think about him, and that when you called the tattoo he gave you beautiful, it meant more to him than most compliments do. ‘Cause it was you who said it. It’s too much for him.

Maybe he’ll skip out on the next outing.

“That’s nice,” he settles for.

“She’s new to the city and she’s cool. Don’t you think, Eddie?” Robin asks.

He swipes her boot-clad feet from his desk in response.

“We just don’t want you to hold yourself back, that’s all. You never go on dates or anything, even though you’ve had many chances,” Nancy says, softer now that she sees Eddie’s mind is full.

“Thanks for caring, you guys, seriously. But I’m fine. I like being single.”

“So, just be friends with her, then,” Robin suggests.

Her and Nancy leave him alone after that, his mind a bigger mess than before and it’s completely surrounding you. He doesn’t understand how someone could make him rethink everything like he is.

I like being single, he’d said.

And yet, when he imagines going on a date with you, giving you flowers, complimenting your dress or your hair, he’s not sure how true that statement is.

Your days drag by. You work in a small café, and whenever you’re not there, you’re either wasting away hours in your apartment or taking aimless walks. It’s a never-ending cycle, a carousel spinning round and round.

The only eventful thing that happened to you (other than your new tattoo) was accidentally spilling coffee all over yourself at work and having to stick out the rest of your shift in wet clothes. Not necessarily something you want to remember.

You’re beginning to lose hope that Robin will ever use your number.

It shocks you when your phone finally rings. You try to convince yourself it’s telemarketers, a wrong number, anything not to get your hopes up. Lucky for you, it actually is Robin.

“Hello?” Is your automatic word when you pick up.

“Hi! Listen, I’m so sorry it took so long to call,” she doesn’t have to say it to know it’s her. Robin has a very distinct way of speaking; rushed and animated. “So, I actually lost the paper. Silly me! But, then I found it and I had to convince the others to want to go out. Anyway, you wanna come?”

“Hi, Robin. That’s okay,” you find yourself smiling. Your first real one in a while. “When?”

“Oh! I forgot to say. Tonight?”

“I can do that,” you try to sound excited, you hope she can tell.

“Perfect! Do you have a pen and paper? I’ll tell you the place.”

You reach for your notepad and pen and do your best not to drop the phone in the process. Somehow, you manage.

“Yep, ready.”

She rambles off an address, a meeting time, and then, “shit. Boss is coming, better act like I’m working. Bye!”

She hangs up, and you know who she means when she says ‘boss.’

You’ve been trying your best not to think of Eddie, but it’s easier said than done. You constantly think you see him in crowds that pass by. A head of long, curly hair here, a worn leather jacket there. It’s confusing and almost embarrassing.

This boy who you barely know, taking up so much space in your life.

You’re reminded that you’ll most likely be seeing him tonight, as long as you’re right in assuming that by ‘the others,’ Robin meant her coworkers. The thought makes you nervous, makes your stomach do things you aren’t used to.

Despite the time you had between the phone call and when you had to leave, you’re in a hurry to get ready. Picking your outfit was the hardest part, because you’d never been to the place before. You decided on a dress that was simple enough, a denim jacket that you’d probably end up taking off (you get warm when you drink), and your trusty Doc Martens.

Your makeup is a little messy, but you don’t have enough time to fix it so you act like the smudged eyeliner was purposefully done. Your hair was left down.

Walking through the doors of the bar, you’re a couple minutes late and a little out of breath from your rushing. You look around in search of a familiar face when waving catches your eye.

It’s Robin, who’s waving the most obviously, her arm swinging back and forth until Nancy pulls it down and says something to her. Probably telling her you’ve seen them and she can stop. It’s sweet.

You make your way through the crowd towards the booth they’d secured. The boy, who’s introduced to you as Steve, is sitting in the corner on one side, Robin and Nancy on the other. Eddie’s absence is noted, and you guess you must’ve looked confused because Robin spoke up and said, “he’s just in the bathroom.”

She beckons you to sit with her and Nancy, and you fall into conversation easily. Even Steve is easy to talk to and you’ve only just learned his name. Sometimes you worry you’re intruding in their group, an outsider. In a way, you are, because you don’t work with them nor have you been friends with any of them for a long time, but they have yet to make you feel that way.

It’s a far cry from the friends (or lack thereof) you had back home, in the best way possible.

When Eddie comes back, the first thing he sees is you. He’s shocked. Not because you’re there—he was well aware of you being invited—but because you look like you belong with his friends. You fit right in, and you aren’t even trying. Then, he notices your dress and he wishes he could ignore the feeling he gets.

He’s painfully aware of how pretty you are, and when you look over, as if feeling his eyes on you, you give him a small smile and wave. He walks over and slides into the booth next to Steve as casually as possible.

“You look nice,” he says. It’s the best he can come up with.

“Thank you.”

The two of you are too busy looking at each other and trying to figure out what to say when the others share some kind of look. Knowing.

Your nerves pickup when Eddie’s around and you scold yourself for it. You have no business feeling anything towards him, and yet, his very simple compliment will be the root of your daydreams for days to come.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you think you need one. “What’s everyone else want?”

“I’ll help you bring them,” Robin says.

You both stand, and everyone tells you what they want. You make your way to the bar and wait your turn. The feelings you have towards Eddie are confusing, and you’re not exactly sure what they even are. Intrigue, attraction, tension. Whatever it is, it’s unfamiliar.

Robin leans on the bar beside you, noticing you looking towards Eddie before even you do. When you pry your eyes away, she’s smirking at you.

“He likes you, you know?”

“Who, Eddie?” You ask even though you know that’s who she’s talking about. “No, he doesn’t. I actually think he dislikes me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding. I’ve never seen him act like he does around you, and I’ve known him a really long time. Seriously.”

“He’s just being nice,” that’s all it is, you’re convincing her as well as yourself.

“Please. I know he’s hard to read and seems kind of closed-off, but he’s warmer towards you than most people. He barely even talks to clients, usually.”

Everything she’s saying, you can tell she thinks is true, but if you let yourself think it, too, you’d be absolutely fucked. Your mind would go wild with scenarios and imagining what could happen. You’re doing enough of that as is.

“I don’t know, Robin.”

“You’ll see, trust me.”

Unbeknownst to you, a very similar conversation is happening back at the table. Steve and Nancy are trying to knock some sense into Eddie, to get him to realize it’s okay to let someone else in. He denies it all just as you did, his head a mess.

He realizes that you’re not his client anymore, you’re here as a possible friend, and it scares him. There’s no guise to hide under with his urge to care for you.

When you and Robin return with the drinks, you’re the one who hands Eddie his, and when his fingers brush against yours, just barely, he feels them tingle even after the contact ends.

You loosen up a little bit as the night goes on, and you do end up taking your jacket off. The spaghetti straps of your dress leave your tattoo exposed, and Eddie can’t help but look at it. He’s always proud of his work, but seeing it on you is different for him. He likes that his mark is on you.

Nancy and Robin leave first, walking out leaned into each other. The rest of you follow shortly after, Steve slipping out after a quick goodbye. When you stand, you stumble slightly. Eddie catches you, a hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Let me walk you home,” he says, his hand trailing down your arm lightly before he pulls away completely.

“That’s okay, Eddie. Really.”

You put your jacket back on and struggle to find one of the sleeves, your arm reaching back awkwardly. Once again, Eddie’s quick to help you, pulling your jacket over and guiding your arm to the right spot. You thank him quietly.

“C’mon, it’s dark out.”

“You’re not gonna let me say no, are you?”

He shakes his head, that small smile you so rarely see making an appearance.

The walk is quiet for a bit, the chilled air of the night nipping at your skin, your arms pulling your jacket tight to your chest. He falls into step next to you easily, pace matching yours so he stays right next to you.

He can tell you’re cold, and he resists the urge to throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you closer to warm you up. It’d be weird, he thinks. You barely know him and he’s sure you’d much rather be walking with one of the girls right now than with him.

“Sorry for, like, intruding in your friend group.”

Though you haven’t felt like an outsider, you do feel bad about worming your way into their group that seemed to have stayed the same for so long. You feel bad for the change you caused, the shift.

“What? You’re not,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, moon girl. I am.”

He knows he might not be the most welcoming person, but he doesn’t mind having you around, really. What he minds is the confusion that comes along with it, which isn’t your fault at all. That’s on him.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me come, then.”

“I think Robin would have smacked me if I didn’t. Besides, you’re nice to have around.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the few drinks or if it’s just a fluke, but the bit of honesty slips out of him with ease. Eddie’s not a trusting person, he’s been through too much for that, but he has never once felt like you were judging him.

The rest of the walk to your apartment is filled with light conversation and small, awkward silences. Having him next to you does make you feel safer, though. You never know what could happen.

He walks you all the way up to your door. You pull out your keys and fiddle with them, your hand shakes when you try to insert it into the lock. You miss a couple of times and feel the embarrassment scorch you. You don’t know if it’s the cold, or the drinks, or if it’s him making your hands unstable. Maybe it’s all of the above.

Yet again, Eddie helps you. He comes up behind you, his chest hovering over your back, close enough to feel the heat of his body, not close enough to touch.

“Here, sweetheart” he wraps his hand around yours and guides the key into the slot, the pet name slipping out without him noticing.

You do notice, though. He says it so softly, and you think it’s your favorite word that’s come out of his mouth so far. It has your heartbeat picking up, a steady thump in your chest.

“Thanks,” you breathe out.

You turn around, leaving the key in the door for now. He’s much closer than you were expecting and he doesn’t back away. Your back against your door, your nose almost touching his.

Then, something shifts, and he’s leaning in and kissing you.

It takes you a second to get over your initial shock, but you recover quickly, winding your arms around his neck and kissing him back. He makes a sound against your mouth when you do, pressing you further into the door. He has a thigh between yours, his hands holding your waist tightly.

He kisses you like he means it, and you forget about everything else. You forget that this Eddie is the same one who puzzles you so much, that not long ago you were convinced that you’d never see him again. And yet, he’s here, kissing you sick in your hallway.

He sucks at your bottom lip, pulling away and letting it snap back into place, opening his eyes to look at you for a second, then he dives back in. Soon enough, he’s licking along the seam of your lips to open you up, and his tongue has your knees weak.

When you whimper into his mouth, he tenses.

He’s snapped back into reality, realizing that he just made out with you against your door. He pulls away, pushing his fingers into his hair. There’s a sudden change, though this one feels much worse than the one where he kissed you.

There are too many things in his head. Thinking he shouldn’t be doing this or that you’ll hate him for it. You’re about to open your mouth and ask him what’s wrong when he speaks first.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he steps back until he’s against the wall opposite from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Eddie-”

“No, shit. I’m sorry. Good night.”

He’s walking away before you can say anything else. You stand frozen for what could be minutes before finally letting yourself into your apartment. Closing and locking the door behind you, you lean your forehead against the wood and wonder what the fuck just happened.

You’re not sure what you did wrong to make him have to leave so suddenly, and you know it’ll torment you constantly. Replaying in the back of your mind. The worst part is, you were ready to invite him inside, to let him do whatever he wanted with you. He was gone before you could even get there.

Eddie feels awful for leaving the way he did, and he thinks about turning around and knocking on your door the whole way home. He never does, though. He’s sure you don’t want to see him.

You both have a fitful sleep that night. Blocks away, both tossing and turning in bed with that kiss plaguing your minds.

Robin and Nancy’s calls grow more frequent over the following couple of weeks, and in turn, so do your encounters with Eddie. You’ve become closer, would like to say you’ve become friends, even. Though, nothing like the kiss that the two of you choose to ignore happens again.

You chalked it up to his tipsiness, he tries to forget it altogether.

It’s not because it was bad, or unwanted. It’s quite the opposite, actually. Eddie’s so used to kissing meaning absolutely nothing, leading to more every single time. Your kiss, though, was completely different. It made him feel more than he knew he was capable of.

He’s surprised that you have yet to say something about it, especially considering the way that he left. It’s a two way street; he doesn’t bring it up at all, either.

He wants to. He wants to be able to explain himself to you, to tell you why he had to pull himself away so quickly. Only, he’s not sure how. He doesn’t know how to explain the way he finds himself drawn to you, the reason he kissed you, or the feeling that runs through him every time you lock eyes. If he can’t even make sense of it himself, how is he supposed to make sense of it to you?

He can’t even bring himself to tell anyone about it because he knows, as much as they try, it won’t help.

Tonight, you’re all piled on the couches in Steve’s apartment (it’s the nicest one) eating pizza straight from the box and chatting. It’s nice to be a part of a true friend group. You’ve never had anything like it before.

“Eddie, you left your guitar here, you know?” Steve says.

He plays guitar? Fuck.

“Shit, yeah. I did.”

“You know what that means,” Robin draws out the last word, shimmying her shoulders.

“No. Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head.

“Please! Serenade us, Eddie.”

They go back and forth for a bit and your gaze switches between the two of them like you’re watching a game of ping pong.

“I’d like to hear you play,” you pitch in.

Robin—of course—wears a smirk. She’s been trying to get the two of you together since she saw how you interacted, and she knows Eddie won’t say no to you. He couldn’t if he tried.

“Really?” Eddie asks softly.

“Yeah. I didn’t know you played,” you shift in your seat, “I’d love to hear it. If you want.”

He fiddles with his guitar pick necklace, which you catch. Maybe that should’ve been a dead giveaway that he’s a musician, but you’d never noticed it before, usually hidden by the collar of his shirt.

Eddie’s not usually a nervous person, but the prospect of you listening to him play has him feeling that way. He’s never worried so much about how someone looks at him, or what they might think. With you, he worries because he wants to impress you, he’s realized.

“Yeah, okay. Just for you, I’ll go grab it.”

Just for you. You turn your face away to try and hide how it affects you.

He asks Steve where he left it, and goes off to retrieve it. You watch him walk away until he disappears behind a corner. There’s something about him that pulls you in, something you wish you could figure out. You know you like him, it’s quite obvious, but it’s the kind that has thoughts of him crowding your mind and that has you overthinking every word.

“You guys are paining me, I hope you know,” Robin says.

“We’re just friends. Seriously.”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve adds on. Nancy tends to just observe when the topic of you and Eddie is brought up. She’s a rational person, and she’s trying to let it work itself out naturally. Though, she’s sure it will work out eventually. Hopefully sooner than later.

Eddie comes back before you can manage a reply, holding an acoustic guitar decorated with messy, white, painted-on lettering that says ‘this machine slays dragons.’

He sits down and tunes the guitar first, focused on his task. It gives you a chance to look at him closely, lets you get away with it because the others are watching him, too. Waiting for him to start to play. When he does, you’re transfixed.

Your eyes don’t stray from him at all throughout the song he plays. His fingers move with so much ease, his rings catching the light. It’s no surprise that he’s talented with his hands, just look at the art he creates on people’s bodies everyday. But, this is another layer to it, a piece of him that made you want to see more. Made you want to collect every jigsaw piece until you had the whole image.

You think you could listen to him play for hours on end and never get tired of his strumming. Yeah, you really do like him.

When he finishes, everyone gives him a round of applause, and he hopes his hair does enough to cover up the blush that blooms on his cheeks. He looks to you first, and you’re beaming, looking at him like he’s just done something groundbreaking.

“That was amazing, Eddie,” you say.

“It’s nothing special,” he replies.

“It is. You’re really talented,” you sound so sincere it squeezes his heart in a fist. “Double talented, actually.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

He lets it slip again, and you soak it up. Eddie tries to avoid the looks from his friends, especially after the pet name. Surely, they’re all wearing smug smiles and plotting ways to talk him into giving whatever the thing between the two of you is a go.

He sets the guitar aside, clearing his throat amidst the awkward silence. You look at your lap and frown at the run in your tights that you just noticed, avoiding being the first to say anything.

Every new detail you learn about Eddie only makes you like him more. You’re still not sure if he even considers you a friend, but you certainly consider him one. You would ask but decide to save yourself the stress of having to bring it up. The worst part is, the idea of him not liking you hurts more than you’d like to admit.

The silence is eventually broken, and the floodgates of conversation have opened back up. You and Eddie both let out a breath of relief, synchronized in secrecy.

When you get up to leave, Eddie suddenly has the urge to go, too, and he offers to take you home. Much like the time before, he doesn’t let you decline the offer. He’s just being nice, you think to yourself, he would do it for anyone.

This time, he drove, and he opens the passenger door for you when you reach his car. It smells like him inside, sandalwood, something sweet, the underlying smokiness of cigarettes that you don’t mind when it comes to him. He has a pair of dice hanging from his mirror, though they’re twenty-sided instead of your average six.

“You’ll have to give me directions back to yours,” he says, starting the car. “I remember the area, but…”

Yes, he remembers the area all too well. It’s where he lingered after he sprung a kiss on you and then walked away. It’s where he jerked himself around mentally trying to decide whether he should go back to you or just go home.

“Don’t worry, I can be your map.”

The drive is silent save for the music humming through the speakers and your occasional instructions on which turns to take. It isn’t awkward, you don’t think. It’s comfortable in the way that you don’t feel the need to fill it.

One of Eddie’s hands reaches out and lightly tugs on your skirt, “this looks really nice on you.”

He pulls it away after he says it and you wish he didn’t.

“Oh,” you look down at the fabric, something you’ve owned for years, worn when you can’t figure anything else out. It’s never been anything special, but now, you feel like it might be. “Thank you.”

Eddie feels inclined to compliment you all of the time, he’s learned, but he often lets them float in his head rather than say them to you.

He parks on the street by your apartment complex soon after, but you don’t get out right away. You unbuckle your seatbelt and place a hand on the door, but he stops you.

The sight of your building has him thinking about the night you kissed for what feels like the thousandth time. He wants to kiss you again and he clenches his fists to ground himself. If you’re any bit as torn up about it as him, he wants to know. He also wants to try and explain himself to you, even if he still isn’t sure how.

“Hey. About that night,” he doesn’t have to specify. You know exactly what he’s talking about. Your hand lets go of the door handle, settling in your lap. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“You are?”

You don’t want him to be sorry, or to feel bad about it. You only want to know what you did to scare him off the way you did. You also want him to kiss you again.

“Um, yeah. I shouldn’t have just sprung onto you like that.”

“Why did you?” Is what you say next.

“I dunno. You just looked so pretty, and I had the urge. The drinks gave me the strength to do it, I guess.”

He hadn’t been drunk, not one bit, but he doesn’t want to use the alternate explanation just yet. He doesn’t want to say ‘I kissed you because you confuse me more than anyone else. Because I’ve never felt so bent out of shape because of one person. Because you were looking at me like you wanted me to, and I can’t say no to you.’

He could, but he doesn’t want to.

“You think I’m pretty?”

He nods, almost ashamed about it.

“I think you’re pretty, too, Eddie,” his eyes lock onto yours, “and I’m not sorry you kissed me at all.”

“What?”

“I liked kissing you. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come inside before you left.”

You don’t know where your candidness is coming from, but you can’t stop yourself anymore. You’ve wondered and wondered what could’ve happened that night had he stayed, and by the way his gaze flicks down to your lips, you think you might find out.

The car suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, when he asks, “does that offer still stand?”

You nod, he shuts off the car. You both get out, walking up to your place in a sort of haze. Neither of you know what will come from any of this, you’re going in blind and it’s as exciting as it is nerve-wracking.

Things slow down once you’re inside. It’s as if a fog has cleared and now, you’re both painfully aware of everything you’re doing, or saying. His eyes flit around your apartment in silence, looking at your bookshelf, noting the lack of personal photos.

You cut in before he can comment on your place, “can I get you anything? Water, or…”

When he responds, it’s not to your question. Instead, he asks you one: “how’s your tattoo healing?”

He’s been curious about how you’re feeling with it ever since he caught glimpses of it that night at the bar. You pause by your small kitchen island, looking him over before you can manage to reply.

“Oh. Good, I think,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t know enough about tattoos but it hasn’t bothered me much.”

“I can look at it, if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

You say it as if he would be going through lots of trouble to do so, when in reality he’s using it as an excuse to get his hands on you. Tattoos are familiar, not foreign the way his feelings for you are. It’s an excuse to ease himself into whatever this is.

“‘Course I am, let me see.”

“Okay. Light’s better in the bathroom.”

He follows you into your bathroom, and you wish you’d taken into account how small it is because you’re forced to be close to him and it’s making you nervous. The anticipation and unknown a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Shirt off,” he says, his voice smooth.

You listen, because it’s hard not to when he sounds the way he does. You turn to face the mirror and peel your shirt away, tossing it to the ground when you do. You’re suddenly very aware that your bra isn’t the nicest you own, and your instinct is to cover it with your arms.

Eddie stops you, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, his hands wrapping around your wrists gently, pulling them down. “Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

He looks away after he says it, but you can tell he means it. It’s in the way he makes sure you’re looking at him when he speaks, the way he squeezes your wrists reassuringly before letting them go.

For a second, he forgot why you’re even in the position you are. He forgets that he’s meant to be looking at your tattoo until you say, “how is it?”

“Right, yeah,” he looks it over, and he’s satisfied to see that it looks exactly how it should at this stage. “Really good, actually. You’re doing a great job.”

The compliment warms your insides.

“Thank you.”

“Want me to clean it for you?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He does, disinfecting it first, after finding your products on your counter. He’s gentle as usual, his hands a welcome feeling. Then, he applies the layer of lotion slowly, almost like he’s trying to tease you. It’s working.

His hands trail down your arms when he’s done, his head dipping down to press a kiss on the top of your shoulder. The first one is soft, a barely-there push of his lips against your skin. The next is a bit firmer, his confidence growing with each one.

They trail over the curve of your shoulder, his hands still running their paths up and down your arms, raising goosebumps in their wake, his chunky rings cold. He kisses his way up your neck, your head lulling to the side to grant him more access and your eyes fluttering shut.

Everything he does is filing you up more and more and he’s barely even begun.

“Eddie,” you sigh when he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

He has no idea what’s come over him, but there’s no hiding the effect you have over him anymore. As soon as he got his hands on you, even just to clean your tattoo, he knew he’d be addicted.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yes, it’s- feels nice.”

You would be overthinking if you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of his lips on your skin. And when he uses a hand to tilt your face towards his and kisses you, you’re not sure there’s a single thought left in your head.

There’s something about him that makes everything more intense. You feel like all of your senses are captured by him and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The smell of his cologne, the taste on his tongue, the feeling of his hands on you and his long hair tickling your skin. All of it.

Eddie pulls away to let the both of you breathe only when it’s absolutely necessary. He’s drunk on every kiss he gets from you and he doesn’t mind one bit. He wonders what you’re like in bed, what sounds you’d make for him, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “can I fuck you?”

The words are spoken between heavy breaths, puffed out against your lips.

“Yes. Please.”

Please, you say. As if you would even have to beg him. You have no idea what you’re doing to him and it only makes him want you more. He pushes his hips against your ass, letting you feel how hard he is and you whimper, you fucking whimper and he’s so gone.

He pushes you down to bed over the counter with a hand on the center of your back, and you obey easily. You’re practically squirming with want, the dampness in your panties growing with every move he makes.

Then, he flips your skirt up, his hands running over the tights that cover you before ripping them in the middle.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he says.

He keeps a hand on your back, though its drifted much lower, and the other sneaks its way between your legs, cupping you over your underwear before pressing his fingers against you. You can't help but moan at the feeling.

“Soaking already, sweetheart?” He taunts.

“Eddie, come on.”

“What is it?”

“You’re teasing me,” you huff out, your cheek pressed against your cool countertop.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He hooks his fingers in the fabric covering you, pulling it aside and going right back to his teasing. His fingers run up and down your slit, dipping into where you’re wet only to pull away and circle your clit; just enough to give you a taste, to have you wanting more.

He’s winding you up and up and up and you think you might pass out if he doesn’t make you come soon.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he pushes one finger in, his rings that still sit around his fingers only add to the intensity. He works a second one in quickly, your cunt sucking him in and he can’t even imagine how good it’ll feel when he gets to fuck you for real.

He’s quick to learn what you like, what makes you pulse around his fingers or moan a little louder. You had no clue that things could ever feel this good and when his thumb finds your clit, you’re absolutely done for.

Your breaths come out hot, bits of condensation gathering on the counter, “fuck. Oh my god.”

“Feel good?” He asks even though he knows damn well it does—your reactions are telling enough. He picks up the pace, his fingers pressing against that spot that has your knees going weak. He wraps his unoccupied arm around your waist to hold you up.

“So, so good, Eddie. Gonna come.”

“Go on, all over my hand, sweetness. Then I’ll fill you right up, how’s that sound?”

Your response is caught in your throat, a whine bubbling out instead.

“Quicker you come, the quicker I’ll give it to you,” he tacks on.

The thought of him fucking you after this drives you nuts because if just his fingers feel this good, you can’t even imagine what his cock will be like. Your orgasm washes over you, eyes rolling back.

He works you through it, steadily slowing down and easing away to give you a break. He pulls his fingers away, chuckling at the noise you make when he does, and sucks them clean. Then, softly, he’s leaning down and kissing his way up your spine.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

“You okay?”

“More than okay. You’re really good.”

“‘M not done yet, babe.”

He stands back up, but he pulls you along with him so you're no longer resting on the counter. Hands on your hips spin you to face him, and as soon as you do he surges forward to kiss you. It’s quick, like he’s making sure it’s still okay to keep going.

His touch trails up to the band of your bra—which is askew, but still on. “Can I take this off?”

You nod, but he waits for a verbal confirmation before unclasping it and pulling it away from your chest. It joins your shirt on the ground.

You’re suddenly very aware that you’re half-naked and he isn’t. You tug on his shirt, eager to even the score, “you too.”

“Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

He peels his shirt over his head, and you realize that you’ve yet to see his tattoos so closely. You reach out, tracing them lightly with your fingertips. First, the bats that adorn his forearm, working your way up to his shoulder, then down his chest. He lets you, happy to have your hands on him.

While you’re occupied with his tattoos, he looks you over, free to stare without worrying if you’ll notice. His eyes travel across your face, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips. They go down your neck, a canvas he plans to leave his mark on, and down to your chest that’s now bare.

The sight is enough to remind him of how hard he is, straining against his jeans. He kisses you again, heavier this time, and lets his hands cup your tits, squeezing and thumbing over your nipples. You moan into the kiss and he can’t control himself any longer.

He lifts you up to sit on the counter, close enough to the edge that you’re forced to wrap your legs around him.

“You still want this?” He asks.

Your hands go to his jeans, popping the button open and lowering his zipper slowly, “yeah, Eddie. I want this. I want you.”

I want you. Eddie doesn’t know why the words make his heart go all fluttery, why they make him look at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky just for him. He kisses you all over again.

You fit your hand between his jeans and his boxers, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel just how big he is. He’s wide, and you know the stretch of him will be a kind of burn that hurts so good. You stroke him over his boxers first, but quickly grow impatient to see him.

You tuck your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them and his jeans down enough to free him. You pull back only to be able to look at him properly, leaning your forehead against Eddie’s bare shoulder, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth because he’s pretty everywhere.

He kisses the side of your head, tender in the midst of the heat of it all.

You think, despite his initial distance, Eddie’s one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. He shows it in the small things he does. Offering to take you home, the gentleness of his hands, his constant checking in on you to make sure this is what you wanted.

Yeah, you like him a whole lot.

Your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him slowly at first. A tease, he thinks. And then you pick up your pace just a bit and he thinks he might come before he even gets to be inside you and as much as he would love to see your hand covered in him, it’s not what he wants right now.

He’s never wanted anyone like he does you and he knows that information will have him overthinking later, but right now, it just makes him desperate to have you.

“Fuck,” he grabs a hold of your wrist, “as good as this feels, sweetheart, you gotta stop or I’ll come and this’ll be cut short. You don’t want that do you?”

He tips your chin up with his free hand, pecks your lips quickly before giving you the chance to respond.

“No. Want you to fuck me,” you say.

“Dirty girl.”

He reaches for a condom in one of your drawers when you tell him where to find them. When you bought them, you were almost embarrassed, because what were you expecting? Certainly not this.

He’s back on you before you really feel his absence, running his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, and tearing the hole he’d already made wider.

“You want me to stop, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Pushing your legs apart further to make room for him, he reaches down to paint himself up and down your slit, pushing himself in only when he’s teased the both of you sufficiently.

It’s a welcome stretch, one that’s better than anything you’ve ever felt in situations like this and you wonder why you didn’t move away sooner, if this is what it led to.

Eddie leans forward, resting his hands on the counter on either side of you, close enough that his arms brush against you. His face is close to yours but he doesn’t kiss you, no, he breathes the air you do, swallowing any sound you make.

His first couple of thrusts are tentative, slow, but when you wrap your arms around his neck and speak a quiet, ‘faster, please,’ he dives right in.

Somehow, he manages to know just what you need, and he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you still as he moves harder, quicker. Both of you are still half dressed, your clothes in disarray and his are pushed to his knees. You’re both so wrapped up in want and it shows.

“Fuck me,” you whine as he hits that spot inside you, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“Thought that’s what I was doing, sweets.”

“Eddie.”

“I know, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He knows your orgasm is creeping up on you, he can feel it in the way you pulse around him, squeeze him tighter, bury your face in his neck so that your moans are pushed into his skin.

If he could, he thinks he’d get the sound of them permanently etched into his mind.

“Taking it so well. You wanna come, sweet girl?”

You nod against his skin, “yes. Yes, can I?”

He snakes a hand down to rub your clit, to push you over that edge and says, “let go. Give it to me.”

It’s like his words were what you were waiting for, the breaking point to let you finish. It’s enough to make your moans get caught in your throat and your eyes squeeze shut, seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you choke out.

“That’s it,” he works you through it, and only when he’s sure that you’re on the comedown does he let himself finish, too.

He pulls your head from his neck with a hand cupping the back of yours, kissing you to really seal the deal, coming with a grunt into your mouth.

When he’s spent, he rests his forehead against yours, running his hands up and down your back soothingly, “you okay?”

“Mmm. Amazing,” you reply, dazed with a fucked out smile on your face. “Why’re you good at everything?”

He chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling out, “maybe I’m just good at them with you.”

Discarding the condom and pulling his boxers back up—removing his jeans completely—he then finds a small towel and wets it in the sink. Meanwhile, you take off the rest of your outfit, figuring he’s seen enough already. He cleans you up first, delicate hands and a soft apology when you wince from the sensitivity.

He picks you up when he’s done, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head dropped against his shoulder. It feels natural, he thinks, to take care of you the way he would a lover. You feel like you belong there, in his hold, and he knows that you’ve changed him in a way.

His reluctance to get into any kind of relationship seems to have flown out the window now.

The door across the hall is the first he tries, and he guessed correctly when he finds your bedroom on the other side of the door.

He lays you down on your bed, and you pull the blankets up over yourself, lazily. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at Eddie the same way, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s not because of the sex, though it was notably the best you’ve ever had and you’ll undoubtedly think about it constantly. It’s because you have feelings for him. Real, true, romantic feelings that run far too deep for you to ignore.

He goes to leave, but you catch his wrist, “you can stay.”

“What?”

“I want you to stay with me. If you want to,” you say.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

He doesn't even hesitate, and he tries not to think about what that means for this thing he knows is blooming between you, its petals unfurling slow and steady. He slips into bed beside you, welcoming you when you snuggle into his side.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night, moon girl.”

You’re both fucked, literally and figuratively.

You wake up the most well-rested you’ve felt in a while. Flipping onto your back, you stretch out, and it’s only then that you feel the emptiness on the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you’d almost forgotten Eddie had been there in the first place. Then, you remembered you were, in fact, naked. The slight ache between your legs was enough to have last night coming back to you in a rush.

You wonder if maybe Eddie had to leave for work, but you don’t find a note or any indication of his departure. Instead, you hear the clanking of pans and plates coming from the kitchen.

You throw on a fresh pair of underwear and one of your oversized sleep shirts that sits at the top of your thighs. You’re still groggy, mind slower with sleep, but you’re awake enough to hear Eddie humming when you open your bedroom door and step out into the hall.

There he is, standing by your stove, cooking breakfast. You rub your eyes to make sure you’re not dreaming. Or seeing things.

He moves around like he’s been using your kitchen for ages, and his presence warms the space that you’ve had such a hard time getting used to. You recognize the song he’s humming to be the one he played on the guitar. The corners of your mouth lift up.

“Eddie?” You call quietly, careful not to startle him while his back is turned to you.

“Oh,” he faces you, frying pan in his hand, “morning, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

“I’m making us breakfast, I hope that’s okay.”

Is he kidding? It’s the most okay thing anyone’s done for you in a long time and you don’t know whether you want to cry or kiss him. He’s unlike anyone you’ve known, and you can’t believe how different he is now compared to when you first met.

His guard was up, short responses and little emotion. It’s a stark contrast to now, to the way he stands clad only in his boxers and his shirt from the night before, flipping a pancake like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You don’t know how he could even keep the saccharine boy hidden, it seems to ooze out of him now.

“It’s- Eddie, this is really sweet.”

The tips of his ears go pink.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to cook for you, or why the sincerity in your appreciation makes him blush. All he knows is that he thought it would be nice to make you smile, and that there’s something in his chest that seems to expand when you do.

“I hope you like pancakes,” he says.

That morning is the moment you realize you’re falling in love with Eddie Munson.

It’s been weeks since that night, that morning. Somehow, rather than put distance between the two of you, you and Eddie have grown closer. You think he’s one of the best friends you’ve ever had, even though you haven’t known him very long.

You’re not falling in love with him anymore. No, you’re deep in it now.

Of course, Robin was able to draw it out of you, and after all of her assuring you that there’s absolutely no way Eddie doesn’t feel the same, you still can't let yourself believe her. You’ll bever come back from it if you find out he doesn’t when you’ve built up your expectations.

So, you keep them low. He’s your friend, that’s all it’ll ever be and you know it. Or, at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself every time you catch yourself getting a little too lost in him.

You’re meant to be meeting the gang at the tattoo shop and then head somewhere for drinks all together. Because you’re not only close with Eddie now, you’ve found yourself friends that are real and true. Sometimes you find yourself wondering what your life would’ve been like had you been in high school alongside them. You think it would have been much, much better, but you have them now and that’s what matters.

You knock on the door when you get there, the shop already closed and locked up. You’re quickly greeted with Robin’s grinning face on the other side of the glass. She lets you in and wraps you in a brief hug.

“I think you should start working here just so I don’t have to miss you at all in between plans,” she says, stepping back and locking the door again.

“We both know I don’t have the skills for that, but I missed you, too, Robin.”

“Not as much as you missed me, I hope,” is how Eddie chooses to announce his presence.

“Hi, Eddie.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Robin scoffs at him, “can you not steal my thunder for once, please.”

“I’m not allowed to say hi to my friend?”

He looks at you when he says friend, like he’s sharing a secret. Only, you have no idea what it might be.

“Whatever. I have to go get Nance since she went home to change,” she gathers her stuff from the desk. Then, she points to you and says, “I better get a very detailed life update later.”

“You know you will,” you say.

“‘Kay, see you soon!”

She leaves after that, and Eddie’s gaze is already fixed on you when you turn towards him.

“C’mere,” he nods towards the doors that lead to the back room, where the station he tattooed you at is all set up.

“What’s this?”

“I want you to give me a tattoo.”

Your eyes widen, “sorry?”

“I’m serious. Doesn’t have to be big, it can be a dot if you want,” he gently nudges your chin with his finger, closing your mouth where it was dropped in surprise. “I wanna teach you.”

Your friendship isn’t the only thing that’s grown since that night. Eddie’s become more touchy with you, too. An arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your thigh or the nape of your neck. Though this touch is small, it doesn’t fail to leave a lasting effect where it was placed, a warmth, like a drop of sunlight. It almost distracts you from what he’s asking.

“Eddie, I can’t. I’ll mess it up.”

“Babe, I’ve got loads of tattoos. Trust me, it’ll be fine,” he moves his hand to your shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “Plus, you’ve got a great teacher.”

It takes a bit longer for him to convince you, but he succeeds in the end. It’s hard to say no to someone you’re in love with, especially if that someone has really good puppy dog eyes.

Before you really even process it, he’s on the tattoo bed, a pant leg rolled up, shaving a small patch for you to use as your canvas. He does all of the prepping necessary, and even goes as far as to put the gloves on for you.

He explains it all slowly, repeats whatever you ask him to, and promises to guide you through it all. You’re incredibly nervous—who wouldn’t be?

“Relax. You’re gonna be a natural, I know it.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve got good hands, sweetheart,” he drops one of his eyelids in a wink.

The flirting is something else that’s become more frequent. You think he’s flirting, that is. He doesn’t act the same way with the rest of the group and you know that, but you also need to not get your hopes up. Still, the butterflies come alive.

You draw your stencil, settling on a very simple rendition of the sun. A small circle with short lines as its rays. It’s fitting for him, you think. As much as he seems like midnight on the outside, that boy is dripping in sunshine.

It also goes with the one he gave you, but that’s just a bonus.

Once it’s applied and you’re sat on the stool, in position to begin, he explains it all over again. He knows you’re nervous, but he isn’t at all. He’s excited to have you do this, to wear a piece of you on his skin.

His hand wraps around yours on the tattoo gun for the first line, guiding you so that you can get the feel of it. He lets you take over after that, assuring you that there’s nothing you could mess up enough to have him dislike it, as long as you’re the one doing it.

As he watches you work, your tongue poking out between your lips in focus, he feels his chest swell. He’s never liked anyone the way he does you, and he’s never let someone untrained tattoo him, that’s for sure. There’s something in him that seems to brighten when you’re around, and he doesn’t know how to put it into words.

He wishes he could pluck the moon out of the sky and hold it in his hand, only to be able to give it to you. Since he can’t do that, he hopes his heart will do good enough. He loves you, that he knows, he just can’t bring himself to say the words out loud.

He’s warmed up to you quicker than ever, so much so that the people around him have noticed. That means something and he knows it.

“I think I’m done,” you say after a bit.

“Yeah? Let’s see this work of art then.”

He sits up, bends closer to his leg to get a look at your handiwork. He’s silent at first and it makes you nervous.

“What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he says.

You know it’s far from perfect. The lines aren’t even, nor are they all straight. But he says it like he means it, believes it, so you let yourself smile at that.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m super sure.”

He wouldn’t have ever picked out the sun for himself, but knowing that you would has his walls crumbling even more—if that’s even possible with you.

He does the cleaning and the wrapping, and you’re happy to observe. Just as he’s finishing up, Robin and Nancy walk in, Steve not far behind.

“I leave you guys for not even an hour, and now you have a tattoo?” Robin says, though she doesn’t even sound surprised.

Eddie thinks his feelings swell and grow every single time he sees you, and he thinks they might just boil over and pour out of him before he even gets to figure out what to say. That won’t do. You deserve more than that.

You deserve to be taken on a date, to be appreciated and taken care of properly, and that’s what he needs to do. The only problem is, he has no idea how to go about it all.

There’s only one person he can think of who will know exactly what to do. The expert in dating; Steve. Eddie calls him into his office.

“What’s up, boss?” Steve says, leaning against the doorway the way he always does.

“Close the door, would you?”

“Shit. Am I in trouble? I may have spilled some ink the other day but you can barely even see it, swears.”

Eddie shakes his head, making note to take a look around his station later. He’s used to Steve’s clumsiness, though, it’s part of the reason he wanted dark floors in the shop.

“No. That’s not- I need your help.”

“Oh. Okay, hit me.”

“I want to ask her out. I just don’t really know, um, where to take her or whatever.”

Eddie doesn’t even have to say your name for Steve to know who he’s talking about. He’s painfully aware that he’s been quite obvious with his affections, especially ever since the night you had sex. He’s always itching to have his hands on you in some way, stealing you away from other conversations, all of it.

That night was like a wake up call for him, a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. He knew there was something about you before that, but it became concrete.

He’d never felt so connected to someone, nor had he been so eager to take care of them afterwards. Hell, he’s never even slept in the same bed as his hookups. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s slept over at all. Then, there was you, asking him to stay and he couldn’t say no to you. He didn’t want to, either.

“You know her better than I do, man. But, flowers, you gotta do. They love that. Do you know her favorites?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“That’s fine. Get a good mix. Other than that, you should just be honest, that’s what Robin always tells me,” he shrugs. “Why don’t you just call her now?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Come on! She’s gonna say yes. She gives you those lovey-dovey eyes all the time.”

“Okay, that’s enough. Out.”

“Not even a thank you?”

“Thanks, Steve. Bye.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves Eddie’s office, shutting the door behind him again. He, along with Nancy and Robin, knows that you and Eddie will end up together, it’s obvious to everyone except you two, they only want to help it along.

Eddie really hopes that their pestering will be worth it in the end. That you’ll feel the same.

He stares at the phone sitting on his desk for what feels like ages before he musters up the courage to actually call you. He had your file open on his desk, your number written out on one of the forms. He finally picks up the phone and dials it.

Luckily, you weren’t at work. You’d been thinking of Eddie more and more each day it seemed. How he looked at you, the secret smiles that he saved just for you, the way he touched you, the way he felt-

The phone ringing cuts off your train of thought. You walk over and pick it up, prepared for it to be Robin or Nancy since they’re the only ones that ever call you besides your boss. The voice on the other line is neither of them.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s Eddie.”

As close as you’ve gotten, for some reason, no phone numbers have been exchanged. You wish they had been, because hearing his voice crackle through the phone is a much nicer sound than most.

“Eddie, hi. How’d you get my number?”

He twists one of his rings around with his thumb. He’s glad you can’t actually see him, because you’d surely be able to tell that he’s nervous.

“It’s on file in the shop. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I like talking to you,” you say, soft and sincere. “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” he shakes his head, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “Are you busy tonight?”

“No, I’m not. Do you guys want to do something?”

“Not exactly,” he says.

Your heart beats quicker in your chest, because you think he’s about to ask you out, maybe. If not that, then at least ask you to do something with just him, which is close enough for you to consider it a win. You smile like an idiot.

He clears his throat and continues, “I wanted to know if you’d want to go out… with me.”

It’s happening, you think. Something is shifting as you speak, the feelings you’ve tried to suppress for so long are itching to come out.

“Like a date?” You ask. Just to be sure.

“Yeah, moon girl. Like a date.”

“I’d really, really like that, Eddie.”

He thinks you can probably hear the smile in his voice when he says, “yeah? Me too.”

He tells you he’ll pick you up, to wear whatever you like, not to worry about being over or underdressed, ‘you’ll look pretty either way, trust me,’ he’d said.

When you hang up, you’re trying not to jump around and squeal like a thirteen year old. It’s difficult to contain your excitement, your nerves, your hope. It feels as if a door is opening. A door to more nights like that night, more mornings with shared breakfast, more kissing, more than friends. More, more, more.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s wondering how he’ll get through the rest of the work day when his head is filled with the promise of seeing you.

After much debating on what to wear, no thanks to Eddie’s sweet yet vague instructions, the buzzer sounds in your apartment. You make your way over, one shoe on, the other in your hand. You press the button and speak.

“Hello?”

“Hey, moon girl.”

“Eddie,” he only said three words and you’re already smiling. “Come on up.”

You rush to get your other shoe on, luckily finishing up just as he knocks on your door. There’s a moment where you’re almost expecting someone else to be on the other side, to have been dreaming the whole date up. Luckily, it’s real.

Eddie stands in the hall, pretty as ever. His hair is in its usual mess of waves and curls, his classic leather jacket and denim vest duo are on, and in his hand, a bouquet of flowers.

He notices you looking at them and holds them out, “these are for you.”

“This is really nice, Eddie. Thank you.”

You take them from him, holding them up to your nose to smell them (and also to hide how wide your grin is). He stands by the door, a ball of nerves, and watches you put them into a big cup, because you never had a reason to buy a vase until now. He decides next time, he’ll deliver the flowers in a vase just so you have one.

He holds your hand on the way down, opens the car door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before closing it, he tells you in at least three different ways how beautiful you look during the car ride alone, and he drives with a hand resting on your thigh, your fingers toying with his rings.

He’s an absolute dream.

He takes you to a small restaurant, fancy enough for a date—though you think being with Eddie, no matter where, would be enough for you—but casual enough that you aren’t too worried about the people around you being judgemental. You sit in a booth and instead of across, Eddie sits beside you. He keeps a hand on your thigh during your meal, too.

In his car once more, you’re sitting in the parking lot with music playing through the speakers. Eddie hasn’t made a move to start driving you yet, and you haven’t even thought about going home. You haven’t ever been on an official date before, but if you had, you’d say with absolute certainty that this is the best one.

You sit sideways in the passenger seat so you can look at him, and Eddie’s head is turned toward you, his cheek against the headrest.

“Have you had a girlfriend before?” You ask.

You don’t know why the thought comes out of your mouth. You’d been thinking it, though. Robin’s always hinting at how different he is with you, at the fact that Eddie’s never brought a girl he’s liked around his friends. You’re curious.

“No, I haven’t. Why do you seem surprised?”

“It’s just, you’re really good at this.”

“At what, sweetheart?”

“Like, going on a date. And… other stuff, too.”

He shifts in his seat, resting an elbow on the center console and leaning closer to you. Much, much closer. Your noses are almost touching and you can see the way his eyelashes frame his eyes.

He nudges his nose against yours, “what stuff?”

You know he’s teasing you, trying to make you give him more detail because it’ll make you go all shy or embarrassed. To him, it’s cute, and he’s been trying not to kiss you all night. He was going to wait until he dropped you off like a proper gentleman, but he figures making it through dinner is good enough.

“Eddie,” you draw his name out, almost whining.

“Tell me. Come on, please? You can’t just bring it up and not share.”

The hand of his that isn’t resting between you comes up to push your hair over your shoulder, then slides around to hold the back of your neck loosely.

“God, okay. Um, you’re a good kisser. Like, really good,” he leans in and pecks you for that, pulling away just enough to let you keep talking, your lips still brushing against his. “And, I love your hands.”

“My hands?”

“They’re very talented. You know, ‘cause you’re an artist, and all.”

He huffs and shakes his head. Enough of the teasing, he leans in and kisses you deeper this time. Your hands move and grip the sides of his jacket, holding him close to you.

You kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and it’s enough to have you panting and warm all over. His hand squeezes your neck gently before he pulls away, his lips slick with spit, swollen and darker from your kiss. You’re sure yours don’t look much different.

Eddie drops his forehead against yours, takes both of your hands in his, “do you want to go home?”

You shake your head.

“Can I show you my place, then?”

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

He’s not saying it to get you in his bed, though there’s no doubt that would be a bonus, but he doesn’t want this date to end. There’s also a part of him that wants to see you in his apartment, let you into more of his life.

He’s only ever been to yours, and he doesn’t have the whole group over at his, so you’ve never seen it. He thinks, if he’s really going to give this a shot, he might as well let another wall crumble down for you.

The drive there is fairly quick, and yet again, his hand finds your thigh. This time, though, he lets his fingers hold on, rather than just rest in your lap. You like it a lot.

Eddie’s apartment isn’t what you expect. You thought it’d be decorated like the shop: dark colors, black and white art, hints of red. His place is much warmer, much homier. It suits him perfectly.

He has a huge record collection, a whole wall of his living room dedicated to the shelves and the player itself. He also has a shelf for his books. Some more worn than others, letting you know which are his favorites of the bunch.

You trail your fingers along the spines, admiring his collection. He lets you, standing not too far away, enjoying how you look in his space.

His bathroom is much like yours, small and plain, but it’s tidy save for some products of his strewn about the counter. His bedroom is so obviously his that it makes you smile. From the rings and other jewelry sitting atop his dresser, to his dark gray bedding, to the guitars that are displayed proudly, to the desk pushed into a corner with pages upon pages spread about.

You gravitate towards that desk without a second thought.

There’s something so intimate about seeing his art station in his home, much different to his office at the shop. Here, he can let it be a mess, and can draw whatever he pleases.

“Is it okay if I look at these?” You ask.

“‘Course,” he says. He walks up behind you, lets his hands hold your sides loosely and rests his chin on your shoulder. You revel in the warmth of his chest against your back.

You pick up some of the loose pages, looking at the different pieces. Skulls and flowers and landscapes and so much more. He can do it all, you think. You can see so much detail, the strokes of his pencil, and it’s clear how much talent he has.

“These are all beautiful, Eddie.”

He turns his head to peck your cheek, “thank you, sweetheart.”

You reach for a worn sketchbook next, the cover peeling at the edges and the pages nearly full. It flips open to where it seems to have been used the most, the spine broken. What you see makes you gasp quietly, but Eddie’s close enough to hear it.

Covering the pages are drawings of the moon. Over and over again he drew them. Some are big, taking up an entire page, and some are scrawled into corners and empty spaces, like he couldn’t stop adding them. All of these drawings for your tattoo, and he’d only shown you a few.

“It’s weird, right?” Eddie says, hiding his face in your neck.

If he’s honest, he forgot that sketchbook was even there. He couldn’t forget about the drawings you found—you’d taken up so much of his thoughts after meeting that he couldn’t stop drawing the fucking moon for you. There are so many and he’s embarrassed by it, because he really was screwed after the first day even when he refused to see it.

“No, it’s- these are all for me?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you, so I drew these,” he speaks into your skin. “I was trying to avoid my feelings for you, but clearly, that didn’t work. You wouldn’t get out of my head and I had no idea why.”

You turn in his hold, leaving the sketchbook open on his desk. You look at him, the way his cheeks are pink at your finding of his drawings, the way his eyes flick between yours.

“I love them. Every single one,” I love you. “I thought about you a lot, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. So much. You made me nervous at first,” you admit, your hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“I’m not used to, um, opening up to people and all. I’ve never even been in a relationship,” his hands come up and grab yours, like he needs the comfort. “You make me want to try, though.”

You have to say it. There’s no way you can’t, not when he’s looking at you with those eyes filled with something.

“I love you, Eddie,” his eyes widen, he freezes. “You don’t have to say it back or anything, I just really needed to tell you. You’re the first sense of comfort I’ve found since I moved, and I don’t think I would have felt at home without you and I love you.”

No matter how scared he is to be with you, because he wants to be someone worth being with and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he can’t ignore the fact that he loves you right back. And he hasn’t said those words to many people in his life.

It’s big for him, so big that he’s stumbling over his words but he tries anyway.

“Oh my god,” he kisses your knuckles, “I love you, sweetheart. My moon girl, fuck, I love you, too. I’ve never done this before, but there’s nobody else I’d want. Nobody.”

You feel so many things at once. Relief and happiness and a thousand fireworks in your gut and in your heart. You grab his face with your hands and drag him down to kiss you.

It’s broken by your smiles, your teeth bumping into each other but neither of you care one bit. He holds your wrists gently, returns your kiss with ease. He’s delicate with his touch, so, so perfect with his lips on yours.

He only pulls away to ask, “will you be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

You nod vehemently, “been yours since you kissed me the first time. Probably even before that.”

You’re not worried about the ‘told you so’s you’re sure to get from your friends, or what happens next because you know whatever it is, Eddie’s gonna be there.

“Think you had me the minute you started talking ‘bout the moon.” He just didn’t know it yet.

༄

if you enjoyed, please leave a reblog or let me know what you thought! it helps loads more than you think <3

#recs!#this is so cute

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angelicmunson · 1 year

Text

ೄྀ࿐𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 || 𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻

content: 18+ MDNI + mean girl!reader + cheating (reader on bf) + fingering + eddie is a little shit and loves bratty!reader + reader flips hair over her shoulder at one point

pt. 1 | pt. 2 (coming soon)

“I can’t help but dream of his head between my thighs, how his hair would feel against my—”

Eddie slams the diary closed with a triumphant smirk. Well, well, well.

When Eddie Munson woke up this morning and set off on his daily trek through the woods, he never imagined he’d find a diary, pink leather bound and worn with use, lost among the dirt and leaves by the side of the trail.

Daughter of the sherif, girlfriend to hawkin’s golden boy, the town’s fucking ice princess. Thinking dirty, filthy thoughts about him, the town freak.

He can’t decide whether he’s surprised or not. You’ve always been a prissy little thing, staring down your nose at everyone who dared step in your bubble, but you’ve always had a special attitude towards him. not a nicer one… oh no. Just… special.

Something Eddie realized from the very first time he ever set eyes on you is that if getting under your skin was an olympic sport, he’d be taking home all the gold medals. It became a game between you two, ever since he walked into your shared homeroom that cold morning of your sophomore year. Something about him bugs you, sets you on edge, and since he’s never been one to back down from a challenge, Eddie Munson took on the role of your most inspired antagonist.

Now that you’re both out of high school things have mellowed out. Mostly because you just don’t see each other often enough for your rivalry to retain its vicious edge. Still, when you do bump into each other—at the local diner or the drive in—Eddie's mouth instinctively curls into that old familiar smirk that makes you grind your teeth.

Last time he saw you was in that forest clearing where he conducts his… business. He was sitting on the old picnic table meeting with your boyfriend, a jock with less working brain cells than a teaspoon, when you showed up. Eddie couldn't believe his luck when he saw you come out of the tree line, annoyed snarl set on your face and pristine white sneakers side stepping every puddle of mud like it was radioactive waste.

“Alright, princess?” he’d smirked while your boy toy eyed up the baggie he’d just overpaid for.

You’d scoffed, a petty bitchy sound, while you studied your manicured nails. “Do I know you, freak?”

The interaction had been short, but it reignited that familiar brewing fire in Eddie, one he hadn't been able to satiate ever since—not with the pretty waitress at Johnny’s Diner, not with the clerk at the board game store he frequents, and definitely not with his hand, no matter how many times he pictured how pretty you’d look bent over the hood of his car tits bouncing every time he buried his cock inside tight pussy. No one could take those sharp eyes and ever sharper, poisonous tongue out of his mind.

And then, he found your diary.

Pulling up into the diner’s parking lot, Eddie's cock is already swelling. With a final look in the rearview mirror, he fluffs up his hair and exits the car, swinging the keys round his finger as he sets off towards the door. The bell above the doorway rings when he steps in and an older lady waves at him from behind the counter. “Anywhere you like, sweetheart. Be with you in a moment.”

“Not to worry, Rose. I won't be staying.”

With a winning smile he beelines his way to the booth tucked away in the corner, eyeing your pink tennis skirt and bitchy expression like a cat sizing up a canary.

It’s unfair how devastatingly beautiful you look, fiddling distractedly with your straw while your friends yap about something that clearly does not interest you. When his footsteps get close enough for you to hear you look up, and suddenly the straw is being crushed between your fingers.

He tips an imaginary hat. “Howdy, princess.”

The table goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Your friends are staring, wide appraising eyes flittering between you and the smirking boy undressing you with his eyes.

You flip your hair over your shoulder, eyeing him up and down as you lean back against the booth, arms crossed over your chest. “Can I help you, Freddy?”

The obvious jab makes his grin widen. “Just saying hello, it’s been a while. Can’t help but miss you, sunshine. My days are not the same without your effervescent charm.”

“Well you’ve said your hello,” you shoot him a fake smile just as your eyes roll and then you’re waving your hand at him in dismissal. The pretty glitter on your sharp manicured nails makes his cock twitch. “Off you go, then.”

“Actually, since I’m here,” he pulls the small pink journal from his back pocket. “See, I found this little—”

You’re on your feet before he can finish, molten lava in your eyes. “Give me that.”

“Oh,” he grins, “it’s yours? I wasn't sure you see, the contents seemed very…” he taps the notebook against his chin, “out of character,” he laughs. “Yeah let’s go with that.”

Eddie takes great joy in the way your eyes are flying around the place, making sure no one’s watching your interaction closer than they should. Your friends are still staring, but they flinch when you throw them an icy glare. Clearing your throat, you smooth out a strand of hair that got in your eyes. “Not sure what that is, Ernie. but I can help return it to its rightful owner, I suppose.” You shrug, “I do know everyone in town.”

“That's very considerate of you,” his grin widens. “Always knew you had it in you.”

The smile you shoot back at him is saccharine but it’s dripping poison. Grabbing your purse, you storm past him, slamming your shoulder against his as you strut towards the front door with your nose up in the air. Eddie bows to your friends. “Ladies,” and then follows the clickety clack of your heels all the way till you’re standing outside the diner.

You whirl around on your heels, “Give it to me.”

“Now, now,” he lifts his hands, like he’s trying to appease a wild animal. “Before you start, I have a couple questions. I have to make sure it belongs to you, can’t go handing someone’s personal belongings to any whack job that claims it's theirs.”

Your perfectly plucked eyebrow rises. “Whack job?”

Eddie grins. “Nothing personal, princess. Just being a good samaritan.”

Your lips tighten. “Well go on then, ask your question so we can be done with this.”

It's cold outside the diner, and your little skirt is not doing much to protect you from the gust of wind that makes you shiver and cross your arms in search of warmth. Eddie is nothing if not a gentleman, so he smiles wide at the goosebumps on your legs. “Sure you wanna do this here? Some of the stuff in here seemed quite…” he scratches his jaw in faux consideration, “personal.”

He can see the way your teeth grind together in annoyance while you look around. “Do you have a car?”

Eddie’s arm opens to the side towards the hidden away spot where he parked. “Right this way, your highness.”

You side eye him and then roll your eyes, pushing past him again and heading towards his beat up car.

Eddie eyes the way you curl your lip at his ride from across the hood. “Now watch what you say, princess. I don't mess about my car. She’s a beauty.”

“Sure she is,” you mutter under your breath, making a show of pulling your sweater over your hand before reaching for the handle. There’s something on the seat, a jacket. With your nose wrinkled in disgust, you grab the jacket by the sleeve and toss it into the backseat.

“Hey!” Eddie scowls and reaches back to shove the jacket to the side, revealing the electric guitar you nearly smothered. “Watch it, I don't mess about my baby either.”

“You really need some human friends, Munson. This whole hyper attachment to inanimate objects is getting pathetic.”

Eddie's lips curl, “Munson, eh?”

Your eyes roll back with a huff and then your hand is hanging in the space between you. “Give it to me.”

“Now sweetheart, you know I can't do that.” his smile is honeyed, “not after what I just read.”

He takes great pleasure in watching you process what he’s saying. It’s in the way you fist at your skirt, the way he can practically feel the heat on your face from where he’s sitting.

For a second you don’t move, he’s not even sure you’re breathing. And then, “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, that’s okay, let me remind you.” He flips through the diary to a dog eared page. You glare at the folded corner. Eddie scans through the page and laughs, “Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” He clears his throat theatrically. “Sometimes I think about how big he mu—”

A hand smacks over his mouth. Your eyes are glaring daggers, steam practically coming out of your ears. Your face is burning and his cheeks hurt from smiling. “I'm going to kill you.”

Eddie licks your palm and laughs when you squeal and wipe it on his sleeve. “Babe, if you do that you’ll never get to find out!”

“Shut up! You’re insufferable, give that back!” You’re smacking at his arm now. “And don’t call me babe.”

You let out a bratty scream when he just laughs and watches you slump down on the seat with your hands over your face. “This isn’t happening. I’m going to make your death slow and painful.”

“Kinky.”

“I’ll play Madonna at your funeral.”

“Now that’s just cruel.”

You can’t see it, not with your hands covering your eyes, but Eddie has to adjust his jeans at the groan that comes past your lips.

“Sweetheart, you’re being shortsighted here.” He tilts his head to the side when you look his way, your face smooshed against the headrest, lips pulled into a huffy pout. “The way I see it, this is an opportunity for the both of us.”

Your brows furrow. “What does that even mean?”

“Well,” he sighs and shifts so he’s facing you on his seat. “You have dirty little thoughts about me,” he shushes you and squeezes your lips shit when you go to interrupt, “and I’m not a fucking idiot, so obviously I want to fuck you too.”

Eddie can’t deny the way his heart does a weird thing when you gape at him. God, he’s down bad.

“I—you can’t be ser—” he watches you turn to face the front and take a deep breath as you smooth out your skirt and clear your throat. “If this is a joke it’s not a funny one.”

There's a curious seriousness to the way you say it, and Eddie is intrigued. Why would he be joking?

“It’s not,” he tsks and chucks at your chin, playful smile on his face. “Don’t get shy on me now, princess.”

You smack his hand away, your fire seemingly back in stock and Eddie can breathe normally again. “I have a boyfriend.”

He laughs at that, “from what I hear that’s never stopped either of you.”

You’re glaring at him again, and his cock is stirring. If you keep this up he won’t be able to last long enough to get his pants off.

“This is stupid we don’t even like each other!”

“Oh I like you plenty,” his voice is teasing when he says it, and a little mean. He can tell it gets to you by the way your thighs twitch.

Your eyes are a little glazed over the longer you stare at him, a little softer, and he watches you gulp. The way your throat bulges when you do it is just about enough to make him explode. “We shouldn’t”

“Who are you trying to convince, sweetheart?”

The second your teeth bite down on your bottom lip, Eddie knows he has you. He shifts toward you, eyeing your every move. “I'm going to kiss you now, yeah?”

Your eyes flash out the windshield and then you’re back to him. He smirks, “they can’t see, sweetheart. I’m a strategic parker.”

Your lips twitch, “bit overconfident, don’t you think? Hubris has killed many a hero, Munson.”

“Don’t worry, princess. I think this is my year.”

Before you can quip back, his lips are on yours. He kisses like he talks, mean and playful and tough around the edges. He bites at your bottom lip and swallows the broken moan that bubbles up in your throat. The day-old stubble peppering his skin prickles at your palms, and that’s when you realize your hands are cradling his face, knees digging into the seat as you lift and lean towards him, melting into his body as his hands move you to his lap. Your knee bumps against the gear shifter when you climb over it, startling a whiny “ow!” out of you.

Eddie eats up each little whine with a smile, loving the way your brows furrow into a grumpy frown before you slap at his arm. “Be careful with me!”

The bratty tilt of your voice makes his hands tighten on your waist, lips curling in amusement. “Sorry, babe, just got excited.” He kisses your lips and rubs gently at your knee. “You hurt anything else?”

You really are like a spoiled child, and how fucked is he that he loves every second of it?

You cradle your hand to your chest, genuinely annoyed frown on your face. “You hit my hand, my fingers hurt.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, bringing your hand to his mouth so he can brush his lips over your knuckles. His eyes hold yours captive as he kisses at the pad of your fingers. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” and then slowly he sticks two of them in his mouth.

The sight is erotic, filthy in ways only Eddie can manage to be. His tongue swirls around your digits, warm and wet against your skin, and you can’t help but think back to those fantasies that brought you here. His tongue between your legs. “Eddie”

He hums around your fingers and slowly pulls them out. “What, baby?”

You’re gasping for air before he even touches, forehead knocking against his. Your voice small and needy and demanding. “Please.”

His smirk makes something tighten in our belly.

“Please what, pretty?”

Your eyes harden on him, that old familiar glare, but the neediness in them softens the edge. Your hand moves down to your clothed core. “I think you hurt me here too.”

His grin is wicked. “Yeah? Need me to kiss it better?”

You nod and Eddie is just about ready to propose.

He swiftly lifts you up to your knees and slides his hand between your thighs, toying with your pussy over the soft fabric of your underwear. The wetness on his fingers makes him groan. “Can’t eat you out in here, babe, not enough room. And trust me when I do it I’m gonna need the room.” He huffs out a laugh, “I'm gonna take my time with you.”

He shushes the wounded whimper that escapes you with a kiss. “Don’t go crying yet,” he chuckles, “plenty of other things I can do to you here, sweetheart. Not to worry.” He brushes hair out of your face with a faux pout, condescension written all over his face. “Know you dream about it, baby.” He licks at the seam of your lips, “my tongue in that pretty pussy, making you come.” He grins at what sounds like a sob. “Gonna have to earn that, pretty.”

He’s wholly endeared by the way your face finds refuge in his neck. “I hate you.”

The roll of your hips against his takes all the heat away from your words, making him bury his laugh in your hair. “‘Course you do, baby.”

You huff, but then you’re startled when you remember the hand he still has buried in your underwear. “Wha—”

“Still gonna make you come though.”

His fingers swipe through the curls that frame your pussy and then to the wetness that awaits him, teasing at your clit but skirting around it until you’re crying into his neck. He shushes you the whole while, working you up until you’re soaked and dripping down your thighs. “You’re making a mess, sweetheart. All over my pants.” He groans, “gonna have to walk around smelling like you the rest of the day.” He smiles when you shiver, “you like that, baby? Knowing everyone’s gonna smell you on me?”

You should've known he’d have a sinful mouth. With every word he plucks at a tightly bound cord that holds you together, slowly and meticulously pulling you apart.

The tip of his finger pokes at your entrance, “you ready, babe? Gonna take my fingers?”

“Y-yes!” Your hands fist at his hair, nose digging into his cheek, “please, please, Eddie.”

He sighs a happy sigh, “atta girl, say my name.”

“Eddie,” the whine is enough to make him slide a finger in. It’s only one, but you’re so tightly wound, so pent up, that you clamp down hard enough to make him moan.

“Gotta ease up, honey. Gotta let me in,” he coos until you relax, his thumb rubbing loose circles on your clit until he can slide a second finger in. “There you go, knew you could do it, pretty. Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Eddie,” your babbles are mindless, and if you had any sense of awareness you'd make a mental note to die of humiliation at the fact that he’s rendered you brainless with only his fingers. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Please”

“I know, I’ve got you, sweetheart, ‘know I do.” The arm that's not pistoning in and out of you clamps down around your waist to try and hold you still, your heart beating a mile a minute against his chest.

Suddenly he laughs, breathless and smug. “Is this the answer then? Get a couple fingers in you and the little brat turns into a little angel?”

He doesn't expect the kiss he gets in response but he’s never been one to complain.

Eddie holds you through every second, the build up and then your orgasm, shushing you when you try to pull away. “One more, you can give me one more, can’t you, baby? There you go, good girl, give it to me.”

When you finally come down you’re a melted puddle on his lap—chest heaving against his, trembling hands still clinging to his hair.

Eddie's hands run up and down your back as he presses distracted kisses to the side of your face.

He hisses when you shift on his lap. “Wha—” you look down and find a wet spot on his jeans. Your lips quirk, “is that—”

“You have a girl moaning and crying on your lap and then come talk to me about not coming in your pants.”

His smile breaks through his forced scowl when you dissolve into a fit of giggles, tipping over into his chest once more while he huffs and brushes hair out of your face. “Yeah, yeah, laugh away. Eddie please! no one can make me come like you plea—”

A hand slaps over his mouth for the second time that night and Eddie grins at your glare. He brings a thumb to your cheek as he licks at your palm for the second time today and speaks over your squeals, “you have some mascara there, babe. Must be all the crying.”

He snickers at the way you slap his hand and half turn, still on his lap, to fix your make up in his rearview mirror.

Eddie sucks his fingers clean, noting the way you stare at the move through the reflection, and reaches for your diary. “Well, we got that done.” He plucks a pen out of somewhere in his car and draws a checkmark on the page. He flips through the other pages and goes back to the dog eared one that started it all. “Think we could explore a couple more of your filthy fantasies tonight?”

#i love it #recs!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

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Girl on Film | Perv!Eddie Munson x Best Friend Reader: Part 3

Summary: After days of not seeing or hearing anything from Eddie, you finally snap. When you confront him about your feelings, it’s not exactly what he had hoped to hear.

Warnings: angst, cursing, I’m just gonna go ahead and say 18+ minors dni mainly bc of what has happened before and that stuff gets briefly mentioned in here so… yeah lol

Word count: 2.9k

previous part

A/n: I’m sorry this took a little longer than expected to get released! I’ve been a little busy and tbh at first I didn’t know where I wanted this story to go so that also slowed the whole process lol thank you guys for your continued love and support! You have no idea how much it truly means to me.. Enjoy! x

It’s Monday morning and Eddie slowly stirs awake. Stretching as much as he could, he turns his head over to look at the alarm clock. 6:45am. He then turns his head to the opposite side only to be met with the sight of your naked body. Your back facing him and the sheets covering just the lower half of you. Panic sets in before he has a chance to really take in the view. He starts to freak out as his questions from last night enter his mind once again.

He tries to convince himself that he’s just overreacting and that you must’ve genuinely felt the same way he did, right? If you didn’t, why would you do all of that with him? Why would you play along with the whole camcorder situation? He began to think that maybe it was just a spur of the moment thing for you. That maybe you just wanted to have fun with this and not get romantically involved. He also thought of how maybe you’d wake up and regret this whole weekend and then things would be forever changed between the two of you.

With every question of “what if?” or “why?” that crossed his mind, he knew one thing for sure. He did not want to stick around and find out. He couldn’t handle the possibility of rejection or the idea of losing you as his best friend. He needed to think things over before diving into that conversation with you. So, without a moments notice, Eddie does what he does best. He runs.

Or at least he tries too. He gently gets out of the bed, trying his best not to wake you and rushes to go take a quick shower. While he’s in the bathroom, you wake up to the sound of the water running. Still a little bit groggy, you slip on another oversized t-shirt since the one you had on yesterday was now torn in two thanks to a certain someone. You decided against wearing pants, not having the energy this morning to deal with putting them on. Plus, at this point, Eddie has seen you in a lot less, so you figured he wouldn’t have a problem with it.

You make your way to the kitchen in desperate need of something to drink. You pour yourself a glass of water and casually sip on it while having your back leaned against the counter. You hear the shower turn off and soon afterwards, the bathroom door opens. In such a hurry to leave, Eddie doesn’t even notice that you’re standing in the kitchen.

“Mornin’ Eddie, sleep well?”

“Jesus Christ!” He jumps at the sound of your voice. “I didn’t know you were awake,” he gives a nervous chuckle, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I haven’t been up for long.. What’s got you up and ready to go out the door so early?”

“Uh…” Eddie pauses for a second, trying to find what to say. He doesn’t want to bring up the real reason he’s leaving, so he says the next thing that comes to mind. “School! Gotta head off the school, ya know, don’t wanna be late.”

You look at him and say with a raised eyebrow, “Since when did you, Eddie Munson, care about going to school, let alone getting there on time?”

He smiles softly at your comment, knowing that you had a good point.

“I figured dealing with the third go around of this shit, I might actually want to try for once before I end up graduating with Henderson’s class.”

You laugh. You know you’d never let that happen, but it was funny to picture him and Dustin posing for a photo together with their cap and gowns on holding their diplomas.

“Well before you go, do you want some breakfast? I can fix you something real quick. I know the stuff they serve in the cafeteria isn’t the best.”

Growing more anxious the longer he stands there, Eddie shakes his head, “N-no thanks. As much as I would love to, I don’t have the time. Still have to run home and change out of this,” he gestures to his sweats, “and you know how long it takes to get my whole get up on. At this rate, I’ll be lucky if I get there before the first bell rings.”

You try not to show a look of disappointment on your face. You wished he would stay a little longer, but you understood his reasons. If you were in his shoes, you’d want to do everything possible to make sure you didn’t have to repeat your senior year again too.

“Oh, well, I’ve got to start getting ready for work in a few anyway, so no biggie. Give me a call though afterwards, yeah? I’ll be back home this evening, probably around six.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just gives you a slight nod and walks out the door. Driving off in his van, he makes his way back home. Once there, he heads to his room and spots the camcorder still sitting in the same spot he left it. He really did plan on going to school, but after seeing that and being reminded once again how all of this got started, he decided to stay home. There was no way he could focus on any of his classes after that.

You started getting ready for work not long after Eddie left. Taking a quick shower yourself and changing into your uniform. You pulled your hair back to keep it out of your face and applied a light, natural makeup look. You weren’t one to really wear makeup to begin with, but being a waitress, it seemed to help get you better tips so you didn’t mind having to wear it while you were at work.

You worked at a small diner right on the edge of town, only a 15 minute drive from your place. It wasn’t the best job, but it paid the bills. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy it, you loved your coworkers and got along well with the regulars you had, but being on your feet for hours on end for most days of the week was exhausting.

Your work day was the same as always. A group of older gentleman would always come in early for some breakfast which usually consisted of biscuits and gravy all while talking for hours, getting refill after refill of coffee. You gained a few more customers when lunch rush hit, but things never picked up until it came closer to dinner time. You’d always get busy around then, mainly having truckers stop by for a good hot meal after being on the road all day. You didn’t mind though, you loved hearing the stories they’d tell about the places they’ve been and things they’ve seen. It always helped make the work day go by a little faster.

When your shift came to an end, you made your way back home. Feet aching from the day, all you wanted was to get out of these clothes and go to bed. You didn’t even think about the fact that Eddie said he would call. All that was on your mind now was getting some much needed rest.

When Tuesday had came and gone and still no word from him, you started to wonder why Eddie hasn’t been back over or called. You didn’t really pay much mind to it, thinking he must’ve been exhausted like you were last night after playing his gig at the Hideout with the Corroded Coffin boys.

Wednesday was a different story though. That evening, you made your way over to Family Video to pick out movies for the sleepover this weekend. It was supposed to be at Eddie’s place this time, but after not hearing from him for days, you weren’t sure if he even wanted to have it. You walk in and was greeted by Robin who stood at the front counter.

“Hey, y/n! Picking out more movies for you and Eddie this weekend?”

“Yeah,” you say in an unsure tone, “I guess I am.”

“You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sigh and start to explain everything to her. Just the part of not hearing from Eddie in a while, she didn’t need to know the rest and you still hadn’t even talked about it with Eddie himself. It would feel wrong to discuss those things with another person before him, even if Robin was one of your closest friends.

“It’s just, I don’t know. I’m not sure if he wants to have the sleepover this weekend. After he left my place Monday morning for school, I haven’t heard from him since. I figured maybe he was tired from his gig last night, but I still haven’t heard anything from him today either. It’s just weird not seeing or hearing from him, ya know? He’s never done this before.”

“Wait, you said he left Monday morning for school?” She asks and you give her a nod. “Eddie wasn’t at school Monday. Like at all.”

“What?” You looked at her with confusion written all over your face.

Not at school? What does she mean not at school? Why would he say that’s why he had to leave your place so early and then not go? Maybe he was late getting there and she just didn’t see him.

Robin went on to explain, “Yeah. He borrowed my biology notes and was supposed to give them back to me at lunch, but he wasn’t there. I asked the guys at the Hellfire table if they’d seen him but they said he never showed up that morning.”

What the hell? Why didn’t he go? More importantly, why did he lie to you about going in the first place? Your blood started to boil at the thought of him lying to you. You had been friends forever, why would he feel the need to lie? You explained to Robin that you had to go, not getting the movies you had planned on picking up. You needed to get home to think about some things. What the fuck was Eddie’s problem?

Thursday evening rolled around and still no word. You finally decided to give him a call instead of waiting for him. You knew he should be home from school right now, if he even went this time, and he didn’t have band practice or anything like that. You reach for the phone and dial his number. After a few rings, a mans voice spoke on the line.

“Hello?” Wayne. You didn’t think he’d be home right now. He must’ve been getting ready to leave for work when you called.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne, is Eddie around?” You ask.

Wayne looks over at Eddie standing in the living room, signaling for him to say that he wasn’t there and couldn’t talk.

Wayne sighs before answering, “No, I’m sorry, sweetheart. He’s not here at the moment. I could take a message for him if you’d like though.”

There is was, another lie. Now he’s even getting other people to do it for him? Unbelievable.

“Just tell him to give me a call when he gets a chance, okay?” You tried to not sound frustrated, but Wayne could tell you were upset.

“Will do.” He hangs up the phone and looks up at Eddie once again.

“Boy, I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, but whatever it is, not talking to her about it isn’t going to solve the problem.”

Eddie looks down at his feet, embarrassed that Wayne is lecturing him over something that he should’ve already taken care of.

“I know, Wayne, it’s just..” he tries to think of the best way to explain this to his uncle without having to go further into detail about it all, “things are just a bit..complicated right now, okay? I promise I’ll talk to her soon. I just need some time to think about things.”

Wayne takes the hint that Eddie doesn’t want to get into the subject of what’s going on and gives him a sympathetic look. Not really knowing what it was that was making things complicated between you both, but knew whatever it may be was causing his boy to be in misery.

Grabbing his jacket and getting ready to head out the door, he turns and with a sigh he says to Eddie, “Well, whatever it is, you guys have been friends all your lives. You’ll be able to get through it, okay? Don’t sweat it, kid.”

And with that he heads out the door, leaving Eddie to stew in his own thoughts about everything.

You on the other hand, were pissed. Outraged. Angry.

How could he lie to you like that? Why would he even do such a thing? And then ignore your call when you finally reach out to him?

No, you weren’t gonna have it. Eddie was going to talk to you face to face about this whether he liked it or not. It was something that needed to be done, and you knew exactly when to do it.

It was finally Friday, you had just finished your shift at work and was heading home to change and shower. Eddie was making his way over to the high school to start setting up for his Hellfire campaign. You knew if he wasn’t going to come to you and talk about things, you’d have to go to him. And that’s exactly what you planned on doing. You knew he wouldn’t miss a Hellfire meeting no matter what, so he would definitely be there. He wouldn’t be able to hide from you no longer.

You arrived at the high school and made your way to the room where the boys would be at. As you got closer to the door, you could hear them screaming at one another. Most likely over something that just happened during the campaign. You then heard a familiar sound. One that usually filled you with joy, but this time it just made you fill up with more rage than you already had.

Eddie’s laugh.

It pissed you off to no end hearing it. Hearing him having a good time, as if nothing was wrong. As if he hasn’t been avoiding you like the plague all week.

Without any hesitation, you burst through the door. The room falls silent as everyone looks over to see who interrupted them in the middle of their campaign. When Eddie’s eyes finally met yours, he could see how upset you were.

“Oh shit.”, He whispers to himself.

You march your way over where he was, sat on his throne, and you point your finger at his face.

“Where the hell have you been? Hm?”

Before Eddie has a chance to say anything, you continue on with your rant.

“All week! You haven’t called or stopped by to see me all fucking week! You never do that. Ever. We have been best friends forever and now suddenly, without warning you decide to just disappear? What the hell is your problem? Why have you been ignoring me?”

Eddie sat there, speechless and paralyzed from shock. He wasn’t expecting you to just show up randomly. He thought he would have more time to think over things before talking to you. He also didn’t expect to be having this conversation in front of the entire Hellfire Club, either.

“Say something!” You yell at him. Still, Eddie can’t find the words. Mouth moving as if he wants to say something but nothing comes out. You were mad before, but now standing here having him just stare at you not saying a word, it sends you over the edge.

“Fuck you, Eddie.” You spewed hatred towards him. “I can not believe after everything you did to me this weekend, you have the fucking audacity to not only ignore me and my calls, but blatantly lie to my face and have Wayne lie for you too. I already know you didn’t go to school Monday, Robin confirmed it for me. I seriously can’t believe you right now!”

You were fuming and after a few seconds of Eddie still not saying a word, you look at him and reach your hand out.

“Give me my key.”

“W-what?” Eddie finally is able to breathe out a word, and of course, it’s not what you wanted to hear.

“You heard me…Give. me. my. key.”

When he doesn’t move to give it, you yell again, still beyond frustrated with him.

“NOW!”

With trembling hands, Eddie reaches for it. He slowly takes the spare key to your apartment off the key ring and places it in your hand. You walk back over to the door, turning to him one last time before you leave.

“Don’t bother calling or coming over anymore. Not until you actually grow the fuck up for once. Until then, I’m done. I don’t need to put up with you and all of your bullshit, especially not after what happened.”

You slam the door shut, leaving the boys there in silence. Walking back out of the school, you feel hot tears running down your face. In this moment, you could care less. You just wanted to go home and forget about everything that has happened this past week.

Eddie is left sitting there, staring at the door trying to hold back the tears in his eyes that are fighting to spill over the edge. Gareth is the first one to break the silence.

“Dude, I don’t know what you did” he says looking away from the door and back over to Eddie, “but whatever it was, you really fucked up.”

Still not saying a word, Eddie thought to himself.

He really did fuck up this time.

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#i’m obsessed #recs!

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angelicmunson · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶On Monday, he was a ghost. By Friday, he was a man. Saturday night? He was the unintentional third wheel to your and Adrie's Trick-or-Treating antics.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, reader wears eddie's jacket, light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 4/? [wc: 10.8k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04

AO3

Chapter 4: Ghost Days

Eddie went through Monday like a ghost.

A spectacle in his youth, now a specter. A phantasm phasing through walls. Not a hello, nor a goodbye. Existing in the corners of the room, watching. No attention on him, just working, and thinking. Tending to his dying garden of thoughts when the sun didn’t shine. Moving around you, and the tug of your gravitational pull, with your gaze firm on the desk in front of you, not on the haunt who brought this upon himself, and hurt you in the process.

“You okay, Eddie?” his uncle asked, running a hand up and down his back. “You’ve been staring at that pot of boiling water for ten minutes.”

Eddie fluttered his lashes at the bubbles bursting on the surface. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind.”

————

Tuesday, Wednesday he was a full-body apparition.

No morning smiles, no afternoon laughter, but a single sentence.

“Oh!” You hugged the files to your chest, not knowing Eddie was passing in the hallway to break room right as you were leaving Mr. Moore’s office. Several of the papers crinkled from running into him. Your eyes were screwed shut, expecting an impact. All signs Eddie was real; a thing of worth, a precious brick wall who cupped your arm when you stumbled, who slotted his thumb in the crease of your inner elbow. A chest to brace your hand against. Fingers grasping his dirty coveralls. He was there. He caught you.

And the next day–

“Eddie?”

Your sudden presence scared him. He slammed his black spiral-bound notebook shut and kept his palm over the devil-horned skull he drew on the front.

Sat alone at the table to eat his lunch, the low drone of the vending machines camouflaged the sound of you approaching, and he was too absorbed bin what he was writing down to notice you had entered the break room. Did not realize how close you had gotten until the heel of your palm pressed into a particularly sore muscle in his back from how you steadied yourself on his chair as you bent over.

You picked your gaze up from the notebook, and landed on his eyes. Even if you didn’t mean to, the knot between your brows relaxed the smallest degree–a nearly imperceptible amount–but with how he drank in your appearance, he detected it.

“You wrote O2 for this part here, did you mean X2?” you asked, referring to the invoice in your hand. He watched you bring the question to life. Voice and lips working together to create a lullaby for the unrest in his head. Breath cooling the wet trace of his tongue on his lips.

He was desperate for interaction. He knew. You were too. You just hid it better.

“Eddie,” you reminded him, keen on the five-o’clock-shadow peppering his cheek from neglecting a shave.

If things were different, would you have caressed your thumb along the grain? Would you have pushed his bangs off his forehead, run your fingers through his hair, and pressed your lips to the delicate curve of his temple? Would you tell him he was a good dad for fixing the water heater again, and getting his daughter to school on time, even when he wanted to do nothing more than lay on the couch and cry?

“X2,” he confirmed, “Yeah, I meant X2. Sorry.”

————

Thursday? He was corporeal.

Carl returned from his stay-cation. Stay-at-home-vacation, also known as his wife’s birthday.

He was taking a break in his story to microwave his lasagna when the fading voice of a customer went out the front door, ringing its chime. There was shuffling in the lobby. A backpack being unzipped.

The microwave beeped, and Carl picked up his container with the tips of his fingers, bringing it over to the table, where he sat in the chair facing the hallway.

You walked in with your lunch container, saw the back of Eddie’s head, and walked out.

Carl watched Eddie’s demeanor wilt at the swift exit, gaze falling to the corner of his eyes in acknowledgement of where you were just standing. Face blank, except for the heavy depression drifting his eyelids half-closed. Posture sagged more than normal.

“Is Adrie excited for Saturday?” Carl asked, keeping the conversation light, because boy, did he know that heartbroken look.

“Mm?” Eddie jerked his head up, attentive. He processed the question, and crowded his packed mish-mash of leftovers to his chest, chewing his horrible attempt at replicating Wayne’s pork chop supper as he talked, “Oh, yeah, yeah. Free candy and seeing her friends? She’s been bouncing off the walls all week.” He stabbed an undercooked carrot and brandished it with the same motion he rolled his eyes. “But,” he drew out for comedic effect, “She wanted to dress up as a bat again. Great! Same as last year. No problem, right? So, I take out her costume from the closet, have her try it on, and you know what she says?”

Carl shook his head with a slow grin stretching across his face.

“It’s not pretty enough!” Eddie ate the carrot. “She never wants to be a princess, but all her friends do, and now she’s gotten it in her head that if her costume doesn’t have the same glitter and pizzazz theirs does, it’s not good enough.”

He laughed, “My boys were easier. When they fought over who got to be Donatello, and who got to be Michaelangelo, all we had to do was switch mask colors and weapons.”

“See, they knew what they were doing with the Ninja Turtles, man. Easiest costumes to reuse.”

“Exactly.”

“Now I gotta figure out how to navigate telling her most of the stores are sold out of everything.”

“It’s a toughie, that’s for sure.”

The conversation ended with two knowing nods, sharing the same shallow gripes about parenthood. Carl finished his meal first, and left the table to return to work, while Eddie picked away at his, submerging himself in his thoughts.

A recent drizzle cast Hawkins in a misty haze. The drink machine clicked, and the steady hum rose to a higher frequency. Footsteps squeaked down the hallway. The nervous hand of a once confident woman gripped the doorframe, and she leaned into the room, speaking in a small voice, “I can help.”

Eddie perked up. Head visibly lifting, shoulders drawn back and down. He didn’t respond. Not until he turned around in his chair, and you persevered through the awkward amount of eye contact; wide and unblinking.

You reiterated, “I can help fix up Adrie’s costume so it’s glittery.. Or whatever you said.” Totally not eavesdropping. You waited for a response. “More her style,” you mumbled, filling the void when he forgot what words were.

“Y-Yeah! That–Uhm.. Yeah, you have that kind of stuff?” He clutched onto the back of his chair, knuckles white, bending the plastic from the weight he leaned on it. His face was of equal intrigue, eyes pleading for more interaction, lips parted for more questions, eyebrows pinched in and upwards to show his humility. His thanks.

In a valiant effort for normalcy, you started with a self-deprecating comment, “I mean, it’s not like I was performing on Broadway with a whole costuming department’s worth of tailors, you know. Bobbie and I had to pull all-nighters to finish our own shitty ensembles, so I’m pretty handy with a glue gun, and my sewing skills are serviceable, if I do say so myself.” You stepped further into the break room to put your unfinished lunch in the fridge. “I have tons of fabric and crafting supplies left over. Seriously, I don’t mind spicing up her costume if you wanna bring it by tomorrow. I think I can make something she likes.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to–”

His mouth sealed itself shut at the incremental smirk sneaking its way across your face.

“Well, you see,” you said, exuding pure charisma, “Now you’ve gone and phrased it in a way which enacts my policy. I have to say ‘yes.’”

Given his current state, Eddie was little more than a mess of nerves; sleeping in uncomfortable positions that had his bones aching due to Adrie’s fear of monsters under her bed sending her to sleep with him on the couch; along with the general up-and-down rush of stress when he passed by your desk, and nothing came of his sad glance in your direction.

Unfiltered relief slipped past his chapped lips as he looked up at you, “Thank you.”

————

By Friday, he was a man.

Eddie skipped his morning cigarette. He wore his lucky Metallica t-shirt under his coveralls. Adrie had to beg him to release her from his powerful hug this morning, flailing her arms and pretending to choke, until the other parents in the carpool lane stared, and he relented.

He walked into the garage’s lobby with sure steps, making a quick stop behind the receptionist desk to drop off a neatly folded pile of black fabric. Then, he looked down the shadowed hallway leading to the lively break room, and he breathed deep.

You were framed by the doorway. Your back was to him, bent over the sink, just beginning to wash the coffee pot.

One thing was for certain.

If anything ever happened between you two and it didn’t pan out, work would be weird. That much he learned this week. And that was just another reason to keep his boundaries up. Another good fucking reason to apologize, turn around, and go back to being cordial work buddies, and have that be the extent of your relationship.

And yet, here he was, flirting with the ring of fire he lit himself.

Crossing his arms, he squeezed his biceps, and leaned his shoulder on the wall outside the room, mind racing as he organized the same speech he rehearsed hundreds of times this morning. “Can we talk?”

Now, the unfortunate thing about rehearsing one-sided speeches was the unpredictability of which you’d follow the script.

“If you’re here to apologize–again–for spending a runtime of 83 minutes with me because it was just that awful, I’ll scream.”

Eddie had to manually force himself to relax out of his wince. “I deserved that,” he exhaled, speaking to himself only. He deserved your stern tone, your angry way of scrubbing the pot. The stiffness between your bunched shoulders. The tight annoyance in your throat from the way he treated you.

Yesterday was a nice break from the tension, but he hadn’t yet made amends, despite the olive branch you extended to him in the form of fixing up his daughter’s costume. “What if I apologized for something else?”

“The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Good enough,” he said. “Listen, ah, I’ve been reflecting on what happened Friday, and I realized I came across like an asshole,” –He shut his eyes, and shook his head– “I was an asshole, whether I meant to be, or not. I mean, yeah, I had a lot on my mind, but that doesn’t justify my behavior in blowing you off like that, especially when you were nothing but nice to me when you saw they set us up together, and you just wanted us to have a good time.. I can tell I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

You rinsed out the soap suds and filled the pot with water, turning off the sink.

There, he apologized, now he should turn around, and go back to being cordial work buddies.

But he was so fucking stupid.

Committing to something he may come to regret, he entered the break room and stopped when he came to the counter beside the sink, bending sideways to rest his arm there, and kicking out his hip. “I didn’t even get to tell you how pretty you were.”

Immediately, you angled yourself away to pull the coffee machine towards you, and poured water into the reservoir.

Eddie let out a groan as his brain caught up with his mouth. “I meant are. How pretty you are..” he spoke at your back while you still refused to acknowledge him. “I meant to say how pretty you are.”

His stomach seized. None of this was going how he planned, so.. fuck it. “I think you’re really pretty right now, actually.”

Nothing seemed louder than his quick breaths, and heart beating in his throat.

The longer you went silent, he considered getting a new job bagging groceries for the supermarket they built on Cherry Street last year.

You slotted the pot onto the hot plate, and opened the cabinet in front of you, blocking his view of you as you reached for the coffee container. But when you closed the door, he had to clench the tremble of annoyance out of his hands.

Try as you might–lips scrunched to the side, cheeks sucked in, making a big production of counting the spoonfuls of grounds you scooped into the filter basket–your smile was obvious. Obvious, and irritating; leading him on as if his advances were a worse offense than his attitude after your date.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed like you were doing him a favor. “I guess you’ve appealed to my ego enough for me to forgive you.”

“You’re the absolute worst person I’ve ever–”

“Yeah. But you think I’m pretty.”

“Whatever,” Eddie grunted, tugging a strand of hair over his mouth, embarrassed to hear his own honesty repeated back at him. “So we’re good?”

You had a sarcastic statement ready on your tongue–he saw it in how you narrowed your eyes, and tipped your head. A loftiness to the way you regarded him; all pompous and teasing and so sure he was being silly and asking questions for the sake of bothering you.

Then, you witnessed his shy quirk, and were instantly disarmed.

“Yes, Eddie, we’re good. The best of friends.. And are you sure you weren’t disappoint–”

“If you’re about to ask me if I was disappointed that you were my date for the third time, I’ll scream.”

You laughed. You tore your gaze from his fingers playing with his curls, and closed the lid of the coffee machine, but in doing so, you turned away, and you both discovered a subtle truth about him.

Eddie was the type who wanted to witness the full scope of the joy he brought on others. When he made someone laugh, he wanted to drink it all in. He wanted to observe the exact way they smiled, how far back they threw their head, if their eyes closed with mirth, if tears sprang, if they giggled to appease him, or if they were expelling a cathartic release. When he made someone happy, he leaned in to hoard the revelry, collect it, and share it. Seeking out their gaze, mirroring them to experience their pleasure first-hand. It’s what made him happy.

It caused him to encroach on their personal space subconsciously, pursuing the pride, and sense of achievement he felt when he accomplished making someone else feel good.

He stood close to you. Very close to you, studying you unabashedly, basking the pure unadulterated validation of making you smile.

You idly scratched your thumbnail over a stain on the counter. “Pretty, huh?” you mused quietly. “Is the hoodie really doin’ it for ya?” It was once black, now sun-faded and overwashed. There was a logo on the front for a random high school. Your high school, Eddie assumed. Clearly, a beloved item, and one you wore when doing craft projects, as indicated by the layers of glitter, dried paint, and burn marks from a hot glue gun marring the sleeves.

Still leaned over, he dropped his hand from his mouth, and swept his hair to one side, exposing the length of his throat. “Maybe it is.”

“Shut up,” you snorted.

“The frumpy ‘just rolled out of bed at noon and forgot to get milk at the grocery store’ look really gets me going.”

“Frumpy–?” In the middle of pressing the ON button and shoving the coffee machine into its place on the counter, you went to pin Eddie with a glare for laying the teasing remarks on thick today, but your attention drifted. Your focus found his eyes shining with slyness, and dropped your gaze to the crook of his neck, where you spied something dastardly. “How does this keep happening? Do you not look in a mirror?”

As you nagged him, you reached for his coveralls. Somehow, the collar kept managing to tuck itself on the inside, and you were at its beck and call, slipping two fingers underneath to unfurl it, coaxing it out in a long stroke over the peak of his collarbone, and down the slope of his chest, over his heart. Longer than two beats worth. The fabric was quite rolled up today. You had to slide along his lucky shirt to find the pointed end, and pull it out, laying it flat. Smoothing down the edges, and securing his tan work jacket over it. Patting them both to seal the kind gesture.

From his periphery, he watched you tend to him, and his smirk grew.

Fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Guess I don’t look at myself too often,” he said, eyeing your hands lingering on his person–flattening your palms over his pec for a prolonged moment before retreating–and he nodded for you to follow him out of the room to your desk. He needed the extra seconds away from you to rid himself of his smugness.

Talking about the costume, he rounded to the taller side of your desk, while you sat opposite him in your chair, “Luckily it was big on her last year, so it still fits. It’s just a little short in the legs.”

“Gotcha.” You shook out the bat wings and rubbed the fuzzy material of the suit between your fingers. “Does she have room for another layer underneath? Warm pajamas, or something? The temperature’s supposed to drop tonight. I think a cold front is coming in.”

“Yeah, there’s room.”

“Okie dokie.” You cracked your knuckles and looked at him expectantly. He raised his eyebrows. You raised yours higher. You made a more obvious face. He made a confused one back at you. “Dude, leave. I can’t work with you watching me.”

He curled his lip in a mocking sneer, and went to work in the garage, where–ironically–you could watch him.

~~~

Turns out, you were serious about the double standards of your relationship.

Eddie caught you sneaking glances in his direction whenever he’d wheel out from underneath a car, or when he was bent over the engine of a truck, but as soon as he took his sweet time locating his favorite socket wrench from the tool cabinet (that most definitely wasn’t already in his back pocket), you blocked your project with your body and moved your lips like you were telling him off.

And when he knocked on the glass to gesture for more clean rags from the supply closet, you scrambled to hide the felt shapes you were cutting out, and sent a tube of glitter paint rolling across the lobby.

Even as he relaxed into the plush seat of his car after a long day of work, and the rumble of the engine soothed his mind from exterior worries, his eyes traveled from the bright red stop light swaying in the wind, to the custom crimson interior of his Dodge Omni Shelby, to the pile of black fabric next to him.

He drove with one hand on the wheel. He could just.. take a peek at what the hell you were doing all day.

“Don’t even think about peeking! It’s a surprise. I want Adrie to see it first, and then you can look when she’s trying it on.”

He snatched his wandering fingers away from the bat wing and cupped them around his inner thigh–his usual place for resting them.

~~~

When he opened the door to his trailer, the little lady of the hour came running at him full-speed.

“There’s my facehugger!” Eddie announced through his laugh, stepping backwards to soften the blow of her enthusiasm. And yeah, maybe he shouldn’t refer to his daughter as a parasitic alien from a horror franchise, but the clinginess comparison was accurate.

Adrienne made her immediate attempt to climb him known–clutching onto the hem of his work jacket, and shaking it. “Daddy!” she demanded, making grabby hands at him.

“Hold on, hold on.” He knelt to her level, and promised to pick her up in a few minutes if she exhibited an ounce of patience. “You remember that nice lady from work you drew pictures with?” Thinking about it, she twisted back and forth with excess energy, and gave a big nod, pressing her fingers along her smile. “Well, she heard your costume wasn’t up to your standards, so she wanted to make your Halloween extra special this year. She worked on this all day..” he said slowly, drawing out the grand reveal.

True to his word, Eddie unfolded the outfit he had clutched under his arm, and held it out in front of him, showing it to her first and watching her reaction.

Uncle Wayne opened the bathroom door in the midst of tidying up his beard, dragging a towel around his neck to wipe away the excess shaving cream. Interested in the commotion, and especially curious as to why the person he referred to as his own granddaughter was currently running around the coffee table screaming at the top of her lungs, he questioned anyone who could hear him, “What’s all this goin’ on?”

“The lady at work made my bat costume pretty–Look!” Adrie tugged on the bottom of Wayne’s flannel.

“I see,” he said, vaguely recalling the young receptionist she was referring to. He raised his eyebrows at Eddie. “She did all that?”

He shrugged. “She’s nice.”

Too excited, Adrie unzipped the back of the jumpsuit and climbed in while Eddie held it open. Still, he did not peep at the finished product. Not until every foot wiggled out of the appropriate amount of leg holes, and every sleeve found a hand.

Adrienne walked backwards into the living room and struck a pose with her arms out, flapping them.

Wayne ‘aww’d and clapped.

Eddie sat back on his calves, mouth slightly agape.

You really were nice.

The costume was magnificent. The black fleece was painted with thin strokes of white paint to give the illusion of hair, with special attention around the turtleneck collar where you glued white faux fur into a short mane. Cleverly, the pants were extended with layers of iridescent tulle that caught the light in shimmery rainbows, disguising how short they were on her.

The wings themselves were works of art. Showstoppers. Instead of hanging limp from under her arms, you had used flexible plastic to create bones, giving them some structure.

They were exactly what Adrie wanted. Silver glitter served as a mere backdrop to the myriad of foil stars glued to the fabric. As one’s attention panned downwards, they grew in size and frequency, until there was a disco ball amount of flash and pizzazz. To top it all off, there were felt clouds and crescent moons dangling on strings from the bottom. The stuffed and stitched celestial motifs swung with Adrie’s grand gestures.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Wayne picked up two little black triangles that bounced onto the carpet when Eddie revealed the costume. “C’mere, Adrie,” he said, holding them up to her head. “You’ve got two little ears on barrettes, too.”

“Jesus,” Eddie exhaled.

His next breath caught in his throat. He discovered why you snipped the fabric where it was previously attached to the suit, and gave it an extra bone structure to wrap around.

It was so he could slip his arms around his daughter, and hug her tight without any impediments. “You like it, yeah?”

She threw her arms around his neck, and imbued all her surprise into her little voice, “Are you kidding me? It’s my favorite–the best costume ever! I love it.”

“We’ll have to find a way to thank her when I see her on Monday.”

The hug lasted until Eddie’s knees ached. Still, he clung to her as one clung to a lifesaver. He passed his palm over her hair. He stroked his thumb on the back of her head. He pressed her into the darkness against his throat. He squeezed her to conceal the way he shook. If anyone were to notice the secret of his actions, it would be the person who raised him as one would raise their own son.

Wayne walked over and ruffled his nephew’s hair.

~~~

Later, after Adrie had gone to bed, Eddie confessed, “That took me so off guard, I almost cried. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me, or Adrie, in years.. I mean, outside of everything you do for us. And Steve, too. I just didn’t expect her to put that much effort into a costume.. Or to care that much.”

“I know, son,” Wayne said, patting him on the knee as they sat on the couch, lit by the muted earthy tones of the local news channel. “She seems real nice.”

————

It was a howling Halloween night.

Eddie pulled off the main road into the nice neighborhood on the west side of Hawkins. Everyone knew you went to the rich houses on Halloween, as evident by the agonizing minutes it took to find a place to park, while Adrie was oblivious and just wanted out of her car seat.

Crowds swarmed the doors handing out the best candy. Groups of friends gathered in the streets. Kids ran down the sidewalk to ogle the elaborate decorations. “Is the entire population here, or somethin’?” Eddie grumbled, shifting the gear stick into park.

Once Adrie was out, he asked her, “Do you wanna stop by a few houses on the way to Steve’s?” She eyed the rowdy bigger kids pushing each other on their way up the driveway next to her, and she held out her hand for Eddie to take as a silent answer.

When she was with her friends, she was outgoing, but in this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers in the dark, she needed her dad to guide her.

“You’ll feel better once we have some candy in your bucket,” he promised, swinging the orange jack-o-lantern pail back and forth.

In reality, Eddie dreaded this part. Hated it. Going up to houses, knocking on doors, glancing away the second they were answered. He dressed differently. Tried to blend into the back of a big group. Kept his gaze on his daughter shying behind his legs, speaking for her, and hoping her cuteness distracted the adults from taking too close of a look at him. Shuffling away before they could recognize him, remember his last name, and make that same face they always did:

Barely concealed disgust.

Eddie held her hand for several streets until she felt comfortable going up to doors without him, thanks to finding a friend or two from preschool. Those parents were easier. Some he’d gotten to know over the last two years due to birthday parties and school events. Yet, they returned his greeting out of politeness. Waited on the sidewalk like him, but at a distance; in a circle, not inviting him to their grown-up talk.

That’s okay. He felt less alone when Adrie came jogging back to show him her candy. And although she insisted she was a big girl and didn’t need to hold his hand anymore, she walked as if she were glued to his side, three steps to his one stride.

“I don’t need you, Daddy.”

“Yeah, you do.”

On and on, they made their way up the streets, and came upon a white-picket fence dwelling sat modestly between two larger statements, right as the porch light turned off and a group of people left the home.

Fate was a funny thing.

Steve held the gate open for Nancy and whispered something in her ear as she passed, earning a withered glare before she turned and the moon caught the smile flitting across her lips. Behind her, dashing from the shadows, was their son. He held his plastic sword high above his head, and gave a brave battle cry against the person who emerged next.

Robin, also dressed as a pirate, jumped from the top of the stairs and clashed her sword with his. They tussled on their way to the fence, stopping when she feigned a dramatic death, and had to chase down her tricorn hat from rolling into the street.

Eddie’s hand was sweating–Adrie said so with a yuckiness to her words as she ran to join Steve’s son and their group of trick-or-treaters, leaving him behind to stare. And stare. And stare. And try not to burst into a grin.

He wouldn’t have to wait ‘til Monday to thank you.

Step by step, you helped their daughter teeter down the stairs. Patiently holding her hand, encouraging her to the bottom, and brought her to Steve, who was getting out the stroller from the trunk of his car.

“No! I’m–I.. Will walk,” their little girl finished in a disjointed manner, engrossed by the array of bedsheet ghosts, lispy vampires, and corn-syrup-blood-covered werewolves moving around her.

“Yeah, okay, kid,” Steve said sarcastically. “You wanna be a big girl and walk on your own, but we both know after two houses you’re gonna be begging for the stroller.”

Like most girls, she brushed him off, and turned to you for assistance with her jacket. The puffy orange snow suit hindered her movements; her walk was a waddle, and her arms stuck out from her sides helplessly. She was warm, though.

You, on the other hand, were dressed in what Eddie could only call an adult onesie. A fitted one; hugging you in places he shouldn’t notice it hugging you while you were squatting down to zip up her jacket, but a onesie, nonetheless.

“There we go.” He heard you say from where he stood, roughly a car-length away, lurking in the darkness like a creep.

But he’d have to find a way to repent later. His fate tapped you on the shoulder, and his heart set the tempo for his plucky courage’s passion.

“Adrie!” you squealed at her. She greeted you with equal fervor. “Your costume is so, so pretty!” Without a second thought, you bent over, put your hands on your thighs, and asked while waggling your eyebrows, “Wanna fly?”

“Yeah!”

Adrie unveiled her full glittery wingspan, and you clasped her under her arms, instructing her to jump. Up she went. You raised her above you to your full extent and spun in circles. Giggly, messy circles. Showing her off for everyone to see. Parading her for the slew of compliments coming from onlookers. And when your strength tired, you brought her to your hip, and held her tight, still spinning. Dizzy, silly twirls. Savoring the closeness of your foreheads almost touching.

You slowed to stop to scan the scene around you, searching the shapeless night. “Where’s your dad, hmm?”

She pointed behind you.

Over your shoulder, your gazes connected in between a family dressed as Peanuts characters.

Eddie raised his hand, but forgot to move it back and forth.

Your face brightened. The love you showed Adrie reflected in your eyes when you found him. Smiling bigger, somehow, at his stupid wave when he remembered how to perform one.

“Nice costume,” you teased, sauntering up to him with a swagger. “Light-wash blue jeans instead of black. How different.”

“Yeah, and what are you? A cat? So creative.” He meant it as an insult to your gray onesie with a tan belly, but he was the one who followed your quick glance at his stupid hand still waving like an utter moron, and he stuffed his fists in his pockets, wondering if he’d ever recover his dignity after this encounter.

“Uh, I’m clearly a mouse,” you drawled, inclining your head to show off your rounded mouse ears on your headband.

Adrie copied your exact tone and inflection to serve as a gut punch, “Yeah, Daddy, she’s clearly a mouse.”

His greatest fear mocked him. With Adrie on your hip, and your two matching smirks taunting him with your cheeks pressed to one another, he shook his head, and pinched his eyebrows up in worried exasperation. “I don’t need two of you.” A revelation he should take more seriously as you looked at Adrie, and you both giggled. Tips of your noses grazing. Hugging you around your neck. Touching your animal ears and calling you ‘Miss Mouse.’ Thanking you for her costume, and you asked, seeking her genuine approval as you fitted one of her tiny hands in yours to stretch a wing out.

“You like it?”

“I love it!”

You swayed with her in the new position, resembling two people slow dancing despite there being no background music other than shrieks of laughter, and a chorus of “trick-or-treat!”

Yeah, this feeling in his chest was evolving past the boundaries.

Shit.

Eventually you had to support her with two arms again, thus ending your waltz, and you remembered Eddie was there, and Eddie remembered to direct his tender expression at his daughter.

“So, really,” you said, nudging his white tennis shoes and giving him a once-over, “Who’re you supposed to be? A grumpy guy who couldn’t be bothered? A wet blanket?” You leaned in. “Don’t tell me you’re dressed as a stick in the mud for the second week in a row. That’s just gauche, Eddie.”

Adrie latched onto one word specifically. She pointed at him with all her might, and declared, “Grumpy! You’re Grumpy.”

“Great,” he groaned. Yet, there was not a trace of annoyance tugging at his lips–just his tongue poking through as his daughter reduced him to an unpleasant character. “Tell her what movie you watched this morning.”

“I watched Snow White with grandpa,” she said. You gave an understanding ‘ahh.’ “Grandpa is Sneezy. Daddy is Grumpy. You can be..”

“I’ll be Dopey.”

Eddie snorted, “Fitting.” You cut him a soft frown, and he shifted his focus back to his daughter. Eye contact with you was too difficult. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. A single longing look gave away too much, he had to put an end to them. “You think I’m Grumpy, huh?”

She jabbed her finger at him again. “You! Most definitely are.”

The immediate flash of devilry in his eyes was her only warning. “What’d I tell you about pointing at people?” He snatched her wrist in a weak grasp, and lunged at her, snapping his teeth, pretending to bite her finger off with a smile. She scream-laughed and buried her face in your shoulder.

“Aw, it’s okay, Adrie,” you consoled her, “I always knew he was a biter. Lemme count your fingers, ‘nd make sure you have all six.”

“Six?” she cried.

Besotted by your willingness to indulge his humor, Eddie lost track of his inhibitions, and acted on a deep-rooted impulse from his youth, when he was more expressive of his urges. He crept in close while you were busy doting over Adrie, and lowered his face to where he was allowed to whisper in a deeper register, “Hey, no picking on my kid. That’s my job.” To make matters worse, he reached for your side, aimed for your ribs through the single layer of fleece, and prodded. It was a success. You yelped. You were ticklish. Another trait to add to the list of things he shouldn’t know about you.

Steve’s bafflement pierced the rambunctious Jedi fight happening in the middle of the road, “Are you three gonna catch up, or do I need to make you get in the wagon?” he threatened. Sure enough, he was hauling a red wagon of someone else’s kids behind him dressed as various dinosaurs, complete with masks.

More parents had joined the trick-or-treat cavalry, milling about on the sidewalk, waiting for Adrie before they knocked on the next house. You recognized this quicker than Eddie, and offered to take her by, well, simply walking off with her in your arms.

For the first block he was alone with his thoughts. Watching you go from house to house holding his daughter’s hand. Sitting back while you took over for him, and lessened his burdens. When it was you crouched next to Adrie, smiling up at the adults with buckets of candy, they didn’t see Munson. They saw a cute little girl and her supposed mom participating in innocent fun.

“Hey, bud,” Steve said, swinging around to his side, tossing an arm around his shoulders, and shaking him. Eddie could sense the subject he was about to bring up from his consoling squeeze alone. “So, how goes the whole ‘not falling in love’ thing?”

Eddie had his correction at the ready, “I said ‘attached,’ not ‘fall in love.’”

Steve gave him a long, hard stare.

“And I said it was Adrie I was worried about getting attached.”

Steve deepened his stare.

Eddie looked away, then back, then away again. He was quiet for a few strained moments, shuffling his feet while the kids thanked a woman dressed as a witch for her cauldron of candy, and his passing gaze lingered on the Mouse holding his daughter’s hand.

You glanced in his direction, where he stayed on the outskirts of the group, and suppressed a giggle. You were listening to Adrie and her friend’s story about mermaids with full interest, asking questions, and gasping at the information they were disclosing, acting as if they knew the world’s secrets and deemed you worthy of its knowledge.

It was sweet. Endearing, adorable, attractive in the worst ways, and exactly the sort of fun Adrie craved that he couldn’t provide when he was overworked, tired, and stressed to the point of crying frustrated tears.

Except, of course, those bad days had become less and less since you started working at the auto shop..

Eddie surrendered. “How does it look like it’s going?”

“Like you're happier when she’s around,” Steve replied.

“Real good that’s doin’ me.”

They had reached the end of the street, and waited to cross at the stop sign.

Steve shrugged, and said, “I think it’s cute you finally found someone to have a crush on–Ow!” He clutched his side where Eddie elbowed him.

He hissed, “Not so loud,” even though you were several feet away, and talking animatedly with Robin.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s precious.” Lifting his chin, Steve alluded to the way you picked up Adrie and herded the other children across the road like sheep. “Y’know, you were right about her saying ‘yes’ to everything. Her and Robin have some wild stories. Did you know someone came up to them at one of those sleazy hole-in-the-wall bars and asked them to perform on stage–like, obviously meaning you know, stripping–but she accepted his offer, and that’s how they started doing stand up together? Yeah, they just went up there and started shouting jokes at all the drunks. Dodging beer being thrown at them, and whatever. Sounds fun.”

“Yeah, real fun,” Eddie muttered with a horrified expression, wondering how you managed to survive this long with your absurd policy.

“Anyway,” Steve surmised. “I think you should go for it.”

The mood shifted instantly. Eddie’s face went lax, aside from his flared nostrils. He spoke firmly, “I can’t do that, man.”

“Why not?” When Eddie refused to elaborate with a scornful shake of his head, and sudden tenseness to his jaw, Steve softened his nature. He tightened his hold on him in a make-shift hug, and requested, “Talk it out with me. Tell me what you’re going through, and what you want out of this, because you sure do flirt a lot for someone who keeps denying themselves a real relationship.”

“I don’t know what the fuck I want anymore,” he exhaled in mind, body, and spirit. Just a complete depletion of all his anxieties under the weight of Steve’s arm.

Eddie ran his tongue along the back of his bottom teeth while he observed you crouch in someone’s driveway to make a case for Halloween themed pencils, and how they may not be exciting as candy, but there were bats on them, and Adrienne liked bats, therefore, the pencils were cool.

The anxieties were replaced with the blooming realization of how deep his crush went, and the stab of reality pierced the good feelings.

“There’s a million reasons why it’s a bad idea,” Eddie sighed, and gathered his thoughts to list them out as succinctly as possible. “Uh, let’s see. First of all, we’re coworkers, and this week has already been a real glimpse into how this would all pan out if I took the risk and things didn’t work out.”

Steve rocked his head to the side. “Fair, but it’s pretty obvious she likes you too, with how she flirts back.”

“Perfect segue. Okay, so maybe she does like me. But does she like me? And does she like Adrie? Can’t have one without the other. And, man, she made it clear at the movies that she doesn’t even ask if her dates have kids, because there’s never been a second one–a second date, I mean. She’s that casual about it.”

“Why not try something casual, then?”

“When have I ever approached anything casually in my life?”

“You raise a good point there,” Steve answered, shivering at the sudden uptick in frigid gusts biting through his thick jacket.

You and Robin pulled off to the side so your gaggle of kids could take turns stomping on crunchy brown leaves before they blew away.

Ensuring they were at a good distance to watch, but not be overheard, Steve kept his voice low, “What else?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Gee, I dunno, how about the fact she hates this place, and is going to leave eventually? Hate to break it to you, but even if she likes me like that, and even if things worked out for a while, I’m not ready to explain to Adrie why the nice lady she loves so much doesn’t come around anymore.”

“So make her stay around.”

“What?”

Shrugging with that stupid grin of his, Steve explained, nonchalant and lackadaisical, “You said she says ‘yes’ to everything. So just ask her to stay.”

Leaning into it, Eddie pulled an overjoyed face, and threw his arms up, gesticulating overdramatically. “Okay! Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just ask her to marry me, then she’ll be forced to stay in this hellhole with me forever. What a grand idea!”

Steve’s full-bodied laugh sent them both doubling over. “Okay, stud, going straight for marriage. It was just a suggestion that maybe she’s over the crazy party-til-dawn city life, and is looking for.. whatever it is you’ve got.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. Easing out of his glare, he broke himself out of considering Steve’s validation as anything more than an audible feedback loop of the things he wanted to hear, and not the facts he needed to hear. “Doesn’t matter. She could like me, she could not. She could want kids, she could not. She could stay, she could not. I still have to see her every day, regardless. There’s not a lot of other options out there for me, and even if she didn’t want the city life anymore, I don’t think she’s gunning for the single dad whose biggest aspiration is getting a trailer of his own, so his uncle can have his room back.”

Cynicism, cynicism, cynicism. Denial.

Steve’s mouth twisted, and he became serious. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“It’s true, though.”

Ahead, a guy caught Steve’s attention and signaled that it was his turn again on wagon duty, which was the perfect excuse to make his exit because you were standing on your tip-toes, seeking out Eddie in the sea of Stormtroopers. You spotted him and waved with childlike glee, making your way over.

Steve’s hair fell into his eyes as he drew Eddie in. “One last piece of advice,” he began, gaze set on the side of his friend’s face, accepting not even he could win over his attention when it came to existing in the same universe as you. “If you’re serious about not pursuing her, maybe stop looking like you’re gonna blow your load every time she smiles at you.”

Eddie sputtered, “Jesus Christ, dude.”

With that last remark to recover from, Eddie was forced to rearrange his pale face into anything remotely appropriate while Steve got to stroll away as if nothing happened.

“Uh, hey,” he said, eyes scared wide, and showing too many teeth in his tight smile under your scrutiny.

You brought your hand up, and stepped into him until your chests were nearly together. Cocking your head, you pointed at something over yonder, and slowly, unwillingly, he stopped analyzing the nuances of your face to look at the group of kids at the house across the street. One kid in particular. Dressed in black, and with six additional arms dangling from his two human ones.

You couldn’t keep the sheer triumph out of your voice, “That spider is certainly bigger than your palm.”

He winced as if your joke physically pained him. He curled in on himself, and depleted himself of oxygen to groan a long, contemptuous, “So lame,” stressing both words to exaggerate his misery. Shaking his head as if his grievance was anything other than a ploy to discover what it felt like to reject reality, and satiate the envy he felt when Adrie got to be this close to you. Foreheads almost together. Noses almost grazing.

As if your hand trapped between your bodies was anything other than a ploy to rest the backs of your fingers on his chest as you laughed. As you leaned into him. As you tugged on his sweatshirt underneath his leather jacket, begging him to give in until, at last, he broke.

Eddie laughed with you, recklessly.

“Did you really abandon my kid to run over here and tell me that?”

“She’s safe with Bobbie,” you promised in a whisper. “And yes, I did.”

Leaf-shaped shadows danced across you both, cast from the orange glow of the streetlamp above. Autumnal bare branches, electric wires, swaying in the wind, revealing your faces in quick pieces; a wrinkled forehead here, contours of a nose there. Flashes of a puzzle you both collected and assembled in the scarce seconds before it was time to move on to the next house.

You crossed your arms tight over yourself and walked beside him, smiling at the ground.

“How’ve you enjoyed your Halloween experience?” he asked, swinging his arms wide to gesture at Hawkins in general. “I’m sure it’s a lot different than what you’re used to.”

“Oh, I love it!” you said in earnest, surrounded by all the things you’d only seen on screen before. “It’s just like the movies. Trick-or-treating, little kids running around in costumes, the weather, the decorations. It’s surreal. Usually I’d be drunk in a nightclub by now.”

Furrowing his brow, he looked upwards as if he were reading a nonexistent clock, and asked with a twinge of parental disapproval, “Isn’t it, like, 8PM?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, unperturbed. Too impassive to put him at ease. Like you were lording a secret over him. “Don’t act like you weren’t the same before you had Adrie.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Harrington’s been telling me stories about you,” you informed him, and rolled your bottom lip inward, biting it as he zeroed in on your cheeky grin getting a rise out of him.

He squinted at you. “Calling him Harrington, huh? Well, aren’t you two chummy.” Mentally rolling a Nat 20 for Stealth, he lifted his hand to your side without you noticing. “What’d he tell you?”

You made an ‘X’ over your mouth with your fingers.

The perfect position to leave yourself open for attack. I mean, the opportunity presented itself so splendidly, how could he not? How could he resist the greatest temptation?

His impending threat continued to go undetected. Giving you one last chance, he dipped his face to yours–relishing how the apples of your cheeks intruded on your eyes when you smiled this hard, forcing them to scrunch closed–and he asked, “What did he tell you?”

“I’m not repeating!” you giggled.

Oh, you were giggling all right. And in the next gasp, you were squealing, jerking away from him.

Eddie was merciless. His large hands proved too difficult to escape. He poked, prodded. Tickled you until his every, “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” was met with your, “Stop, stop, stop, please!” You fought him fruitlessly, grappling at his forearms, and failing to do little more than slip against his sleeves. He cackled at you. Mocked you with the tip of his tongue to his teeth each time you thought you got away, only to be caught again. You resisted. Resisted. Persevered in the face of evil–knocking your forehead into his chin on accident. Eddie thought you would’ve caved by now, but it was him who stopped; and not because of the unwanted attention your antics drew.

You pried him away from your ribs.

“You’re freezing!” Eddie’s mood changed on a dime at feeling your frigid fingers on top of his. He shifted so that he was enveloping your hands, encasing you in his warmth in exchange for the cold seeping past to his bones.

“Yeah,” you answered sheepishly.

“You made a fuss about reminding me to put Adrie in extra layers, but you’re not wearing a jacket?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, distorting your grin. “Yeah.”

“You’re irresponsible, you know that?”

“Yeah.”

“A real bad example.”

“Yeah.”

“An absolute pain in my ass.” Eddie grinned with you. Eyelids falling half-closed. Searing your skin with his heat. Enacting the subtle art of asking questions for the sake of prolonging the moment. Not like it was obvious, given you readily accepted his fingers curled around yours with a coy glint to your gaze. Totally discreet as he let go to shrug off his jacket and hand it over.

Obliging him, you raised your eyebrows. “What a gentleman.” You slid your arms into the sleeves, snuggled into his blanketing warmth blanketing, and tugged the collar over your mouth, rendering yourself to a pair of pretty eyes.

He was a goner.

“Tell me what Harrington said.”

“Okay,” you indulged him, breath coming out as a fog. “He said..” You were back to giggling behind the collar, remembering the story. “He said one time at a party there was this big watermelon keg he spent all day working on.” Eddie pressed his lips into a line, knowing where this was going. “He scooped out the innards. Spent painstaking hours cutting up fruit to put inside it and soak up all the rum. And then you wandered in. Already hammered, and you, you–” You snickered and peeled back the collar. “You knocked it over within ten seconds of walking in the kitchen, smashing it everywhere like a crime scene.” You hid behind the collar again, then opened it, voice gone high-pitched with suppressed laughter. “And he said you panicked, and tried to scoop it up in your hands and put it in people’s cups!” More laughter. “And when they said ‘no’ because it was fucking gross floor juice, you tried eating all the fruit yourself.” One more hide and seek of the collar as you lost it in a final squeak, “And you cried!”

He waited until you calmed down to show how thrilled he was in a deadpan tone, “Great, great. I’m so glad he told you that one.”

“It certainly conjures an image.”

Thinking the conversation was over, you took a step in the direction of your trick-or-treat group, but something caught your eye. You tilted your head. He mirrored you, tilting it the same way. You shuffled to the side. He turned with you, more, more towards the streetlamp. Curious as to what you were doing, and why you were staring at his chest, mouthing something.

“What’s Corroded Coffin?”

“Uh–It’s–It’s nothing,” Eddie said a bit too loud, wiping at his sweatshirt like the self-printed logo was a crumb he could discard himself of.

Fortunately, a wild Adrienne appeared, interrupting him from making a bigger fool of himself. “My hands are cold. Can I have my gloves?”

Eddie glided his hands over his stomach out of habit, and realized his pockets weren’t there. Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of his jacket, and yanked you to him, spinning you, manhandling you. Forcing you to catch yourself on his braced muscles–shoulder to his chest, hip to a place he’d rather not dwell on. Not gentlemanly at all.

You released a string of flustered remarks, and pushed away from him, making it appear to be a benign accident in front of his daughter.

“Here,” he said to Adrie, holding the black mittens above her head, out of her reach.

She jumped, and jumped, and stomped. “Daddy,” she whined.

Dusting yourself off from the previous encounter, you agreed, “You’re so cruel, bullying your own child.”

“She knows the magic words,” he led on.

“Please!” She jumped higher, huffing and puffing.

“And?”

“And thank you!”

He relented. His evil reign came to an end. First, the tickling, now, the height advantage over a little girl. He gave Adrie the mittens and she stuck her tongue out at him before bolting off faster than lightning.

It was you turn to poke a stern finger into his ribs. “Awful, awful man,” you scolded him. Unlucky for you, he wasn’t ticklish there, nor was he ashamed of any of his actions these past few minutes. He might come to regret them when you move back to New York and these were the memories he was left with, but he wasn’t ashamed.

No, not ashamed to overstep the boundaries he resurrected in pursuit of happiness. If only a little. Enough to feel the thrill of danger, but remain safe inside his walls.

Casual.

You liked casual.

Fuck what he said earlier. He could keep it casual. He could handle innocent flirting without it getting out of hand.

“We should probably catch up with everyone before they send Scooby and the gang to search for us,” you said, walking backwards, throwing your thumb over your shoulder.

He snorted. “Terrible joke. Are you sure you were a comedian?”

You answered him with two middle fingers, which you promptly put away. Adrie came running back after just one house, hunched over, dragging her feet; hair a loose mess, barrettes dangling. Displaying all the theatrics of her father.

She made grabby hands at you. Not him. And before he could voice his hurt, you scooped her into your arms, and she rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he complained weakly, walking up to you from behind so he could take the treat bucket before it spilled, and talk to Adrie directly. “You told me you were a big girl who could walk on her own, and didn’t need to be held.” Her refute was a babbling grumble laced with fatigue.

Speaking to you, he said, “You don’t have to carry her.”

“I don’t mind. I think they only want to do a few more houses before we head back. Do you wanna join?”

At first, Eddie was quiet, and you spun in a slow circle to see him, catching the end of his wistful expression at the rich neighborhood and its opulent houses owned by affluent people who heard a rumor or two about Munson, and decided he wasn’t worth more than their wary glances when his kid played with theirs.

“Nah, I’m good over here.” He ran his hand over the back of Adrie’s head, and relaxed his stance, staying put.

“Let me help ya out there, Cool Guy,” you said, motioning for him to bend to you. You picked a narrow, apple-red leaf out of his tangled hair, and flicked it away.

“How long has that been there?”

Shrugging your mouth to disguise your beaming grin, you feigned ignorance while walking away. “Who’s to say?”

To further exacerbate his embarrassment into genuine distress, after two Mummies answered the door, and you were coming down the sidewalk, he saw you pull off the side for Steve to pass with the stroller, and you laid your cheek on the top of Adrie’s head. You whispered something in her ear. Something most intriguing, on account of her coming to life, no longer sleepy. The exchange was short; her asking a question, and you answering. But as you nodded with heavy-lidded eyes, and she pressed her fingers to her smile, you both turned, looked at him, and giggled.

Eddie gulped.

He didn’t like this new feeling of you two sharing secrets about him. Especially ones he couldn’t threaten out of you, no matter how many times he put his hands on your ribs.

~~~

As the evening came to a close, Eddie carried Adrie on his hip while you lugged her bucket of sweets. The plastic handle bowed from the weight of the candy, and your fingertips went numb from the burden. And maybe for your troubles, you took a piece. Or two.

The group petered out until it was left to the core of you returning to Steve’s house. The goodbyes were truncated due to the three sleepy kids in tow. You handed off the bucket to Eddie, first asking if he was sure he didn’t need help getting to his car, and when he assured you he was fine, you squeezed Adrie’s ankle and whispered a goodbye she didn’t hear, too lost in Dreamland and drooling on her dad’s shoulder to know the night was over.

He said he’d see you Monday and parted ways, walking in the opposite direction, and you waited at the white-picket fence gate for Robin to stop swapping sneaky peeks at Steve and Nancy to join you.

“Bobbie, I know you don’t want me driving.”

She made eyes at Nancy one last time, and descended the porch stairs at a leisurely pace. “Yeah, we can leave.”

~~~

The drive home was a welcomed respite after the constant overstimulation. The radio was set to low, the heater caressed warmth along your wind-burnt cheeks, the headlights spotlighted deer grazing on the sides of the lonely road. Robin kept lofting soft smiles in your direction, which you returned.

Parking at her parent’s house, you closed the car door behind you, hearing it echo off the forest. The rocky driveway crunched under your shoes on your way to the door. The porch light was on, elongating your shadows across the ground, following you step by step.

“So, you and Eddie, huh?” Robin asked, turning the key in the lock.

You snapped to attention, schooling your features from giving you away. “Just friends,” you reiterated at her suggestive tone. “Just friends and coworkers. He’s dropped more than enough hints that he’s not looking for more.” You finished in more of a sigh, “Not with me, anyway.”

“Is that so?”

Her lopsided smirk struck undesired hope in your heart.

Robin pushed open the door, and curled in her forefinger to tap her knuckle on her upper lip. She dropped her gaze to your general upper body, and hummed, “You, uh.. forget something?”

You looked down at yourself. “Oh–”

————

Eddie dropped his shoulders back expecting to feel something slide down his arms. Then, he patted his chest, and realized. “–Shit.” He stared at his coat hook next to the front door where his leather jacket usually hung, and reprimanded himself in a soft laugh. “Guess I’ll have to get it back on Monday.”

“How much candy can I have?” Adrienne asked, dumping out her bucket on the coffee table, and scrambling to pick up the Tootsie Rolls that fell on the floor. She began sorting into piles of most favorite to least favorite.

“One,” Eddie stated sternly.

He turned on the TV and sat on the couch, decompressing while Adrie cackled over her hoard like Smaug. He should’ve known something was up when she wouldn’t stop giggling to herself.

His suspicions were answered when she turned around to show him the one piece she picked out–perfectly following his rules.

“Uh, absolutely not!” Eddie swiped it from her. “Seriously, who gives out full size Snickers bars on Halloween?”

“But, Daddy, you said!”

Leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs, he demanded her attention before the pitiful crocodile tears started. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, and reached past her for a mini Musketeers to compare. “You can have the Snickers, but you have to share half with me. See, half is still bigger than one of these little ones, so you’ll still be coming out of this a winner. ‘Kay?” She nodded and went to grab it. “But! I don’t want any tantrums when I tell you it’s bath time.” Again, she agreed and he reeled the candybar back into himself, away from her quick fingers. “And! You have to brush your teeth after.”

“I will,” she promised with a deep frown.

“And you still have to go to bed at the normal time.”

Pushing her hair out of her face, she dropped her head in another big nod.

Eddie was satisfied and went to give it to her. But another thought crossed his mind–one of true luxury–and the allure of the idea proved too good to ignore.

Much to her dismay, he snatched the candybar away before she could get a good grasp on it, and he deepened his voice to show he was serious, “And I want to shower. Ten minutes. Uninterrupted.”

She groaned at the ceiling at his never ending list of rules. “Fine!”

~~~

Riding his tingly feel-good high, Eddie opened the bathroom door to let the steam out, and toweled off the fog on the medicine cabinet mirror. He took out his comb and scissors, and sectioned out his bangs.

Brunette snips of wet hair fell in triangles onto his white tank top and around the sink. It wasn’t a noticeable trim, just enough to get them off his eyebrows when dried.

With some amount of clarity, he looked his reflection in the eye as he evened out the cut, and didn’t know if he should be wearing the faint smile he did, or if he should listen to his better judgment, and stop making modifications to his barriers.

He knew you deserved a better life than what Hawkins could offer, but he could enjoy the innocent workplace flirtations, right? They were harmless. Little compliments here and there to boost his confidence. That’s all it was. It’s not like you actually found him attractive, right? You’d been on enough dates to know what to say to a guy. That’s all.

Though, he did need to remember to have a talk with Adrie about setting her expectations and understanding Daddy could have friends without it leading anywhere, and that was okay.

“–some.”

Jumping, Eddie said a prayer that was not righteous, and thanked the stars he was not trimming closer to his eyes when his daughter scared him. “Jesus Christ, kid,” he exhaled.

“Handsome,” she said again.

Taken aback, he let the flattery sink in. Besides last week at the movies, he didn’t get compliments often, or at all, and to receive one now while his thoughts circled back to that familiar sting of ugliness with the way other parents looked at him tonight, Adrie’s kindness matured his grin into a real smile.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked in a mild, quick laugh. “That’s sweet.” He leaned over the sink and worked on his bangs again, snipping up into the strands between his fingers.

“Miss–ouse does.”

“What–?” Her words were incoherent from her fingers stuffed in her mouth. “Did you say..?” He dropped the comb and scissors, and spun around, eyes set on her. Adrie released a high-pitched shriek and ran from the doorway. “Wait! Adrie! She said that? She said that about me?” He chased her into the living room, dodging back and forth around the coffee table. Duping left, right. Catching her as she made a quick escape to her bedroom. “Tell me what you said? Did Miss Mouse say that about me? Did she call me handsome?”

Try as he might, threatening to tickle her until she repeated herself, Adrienne refused to tell him the secret you whispered in her ear.

#so cute!!!#recs!

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