#Eddie Munson was slinging it
Note
Thinking about steddie future where they're both just average guys. No rockstars, no basketball players just two Normal men living a normal life because honestly? they deserve it. They deserve soft domesticity and happiness.
They both have jobs they like but don't love and they're happy with that. Eddie maybe becomes an electrician, working for someone else's company. His coworkers are chill, he gets to get out and work with his hands and that's more than he could have asked for. Steve is a physical therapist, or a manager in some business. He likes his team and the steady hours. He's not working for his dad which is a plus.
They buy a house together, that's not a mansion but it's not a trailer either. Steve does a lot of the dishes because Eddie hates it, hates the feeling of old food on the plates and cutlery. So Eddie will kiss Steve on the cheek and does the laundry because Steve fucking hates laundry. And sitting on the floor watching TV while he folds clothes is honestly sort of relaxing?? Love is doing the chores your partner hates.
Steve and Robin go out for brunch at least once a month, where they catch up and gossip for hours and hours and Steve comes home lighter with updates on Robin and Vickie. Eddie will have nightly phone calls with Wayne, where they talk and laugh and Eddie will eventually hand the phone over to Steve so he and Wayne can talk sports together. When he's in town Dustin will come over and stay in their spare room and they laugh and joke so much it's just like old times. They go over to Jeff's house for dinner on a semi regular basis, and it's nice having normal friends.
They adopt a very annoying cat who will climb all over them in bed and meow in their faces when they don't wake up to feed it breakfast in time. Steve will go for jogs on a Saturday morning, coming home to Eddie reading in bed. Some old western book Wayne recommended to him. There's a steaming cup of coffee waiting on their bedside tables that Eddie's prepared.
They take time off of work and go on a week long vacation because they can do that now. They do dorky touristy things and Eddie buys a mug to send to Wayne. Steve takes a lot of dorky photos of the two of them.
Idk they deserve to be normal and alive and happy with no upside down anymore <3
Oh I love this! I had actually been thinking about tradesman Eddie for a little bit I am so, so glad you’ve come up with this!
I can so completely see him learning a trade and just getting employed and put through his time by a small local employer! He has to go through his exams and that part of it worries him when he first gets the job but his team end up being really supportive and Steve stays up late with him, practicing circuits and wiring and quizzing him on currents and volts. Eddie returning the favour, letting Steve mark up his muscles and be a living anatomy dummy. Sure it gets a little sexy from time to time but more often than not it’s just them testing each other as Steve identifies bones and Eddie talks about parallel circuits.
The monthly brunches mentally and physically revive Steve after working extended hours with patients that he really does want the best for but a jobs a job and it can get pretty tiring. They joke that they rebalance each others chakras but they really do feel realigned after their meet ups. Eddie can see it to, sometimes he’ll come pick them up when it’s been a boozy brunch and delights in seeing them happy and light, clambering over each other to tell Eddie something about one of the waiters or an especially good dish they ordered. When he drops Robin home Steve sits in the front and looks at peace and Eddie feels the same way.
Their weekends are for them, sometimes that means staying home and cleaning the whole place between ordering food in and sometimes that means going on a day trip and taking Wayne around all the antique spots around the county and seeing what horrors they can uncover. Top spot currently sits with Wayne’s find of a doll whose limbs had been replaced with horse legs and had the head of a fish. Of course they bought it.
Every time they go on a holiday they make sure to send postcards to everyone, including themselves, seeing if they’ll get home before the postcard does. Steve keeps them in a photo album, each with a Polaroid of them next to it. Sometimes taken by a stranger, sometimes just a close up of their faces squashed together. It’s Eddie’s favourite thing to go through on their anniversary, or any day really, just loves being reminded that this is the life they get to have.
It’s mundane, dare say even normal, but they love it. Steve comes home every night, happy to put his scrubs in the washing machine next to Eddie’s uniform, happy to be where he feels loved.
#momo :((((( you never put a foot wrong and your words are Art#I honestly feel very lucky to receive them#cat dads is so painfully true. they buy it the best food they can afford and toys and cat nip and pander to its every need#and it just loves them so aggressively for it. they have one of those baby slings for it#I love them doing dorky tourist stuff!!! I want them messing with perspective to create funny photos like holding buildings#Steve being on the phone with Wayne for the entirety of the game so they can discuss it real time. sometimes it’s just silence and Eddie#will go to speak and both Steve and Wayne will stress shush him so he goes off to meet Jeff and the guys#sometimes the guys come over and they have a night of whatever movie has come out on tape#it’s domestic and normal and they get old and happier#they go to whatever gig eddie gets tickets for. they go on their first trip abroad. they host Christmas.#(only the once though. neither of them have recovered from that experience)#idk you are just so right they can just be normal guys in love and being happy#sorry this isn’t the best reply I’m very rusty. I just love your ideas#thank you so much I really mean it#momo#stranger things#eddie munson#steddie#steve harrington#ask
324 notes
·
View notes
Text
I love how we all write eddie as a total sex god, but I’m almost certain that man has had sex once and it lasted 1.5 minutes
#Yes he had condoms in his room with that video#but I don’t think he used them#lbr he was more focused on his band and dnd to be slinging bitches#especially in a small town that made him a outcast#and he was a 3xs super senior#eddie munson#stranger things 4
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Robin has spent plenty of time watching Steve Harrington from the shadows. The way he continuously stayed on the sidelines of the rest of his friends’ bullying was interesting. He never said too much of anything when it happened, didn’t look all that interested in it, either. Just leaned against a locker and looked bored out of his mind.
Until a week before Thanksgiving break a couple years ago, when Tommy Hagan started bragging to anyone who’d listen about how Steve got his shit rocked by Jonathan Byers and promptly dumped him and Carol to the curb after. Sure, Tommy made sure to mention that Steve was the one to push until Jonathan finally snapped and punched him, but he didn’t say how Steve had gone limp after. Letting Byers rearrange his face until a teacher ran over to break them up.
She remembers how lost he’d looked in the aftermath. Like he was a shell of himself.
So yeah. Steve Harrington isn’t the same person he was in high school. Or at least he’s trying not to be, that much Robin has noticed since he started working at Scoops at the beginning of the summer. But she didn’t think he’d changed so much to be openly flirting with the Freak of Hawkins.
Well. Not exactly flirting, but there’s something there Robin can’t quite put her finger on.
Steve’s manning the counter, right where she’d left him twenty minutes ago, but instead of looking like the picture of boredom slinging ice cream to annoying kids, he’s leaned his elbows on the counter where Eddie Munson is doing the same on the other side. They’re too quiet for Robin to hear what they’re talking about but Steve’s fingers are hooked on Eddie’s watch, not pulling or tugging. Just resting.
Eddie’s hands are clasped in front of him but his pointer finger keeps reaching out to lightly stroke Steve’s arm, and that’s when it hits Robin like a slap in the face.
They’re domestic.
The lobby is empty, save for Eddie’s friends that now occupy one of the booths, loudly arguing over something but Robin could care less because at that moment, Steve says something that has Eddie letting out a cackle laugh, his nose scrunched up and his shoulders shaking as he laughs. Her eyes slide over to Steve and he’s.
Huh.
Gone is the usual smug smirk that graces his face when a girl laughs at one of his (awful) jokes, and is replaced by something… fond. His face is relaxed into a small smile and his round Bambi eyes are shining with mirth. Like he’d expected this reaction. Sometime during this, their fingers have tangled together in a subtle hand-hold across the counter and holy shit.
Steve Harrington is dating Eddie Munson.
One of Eddie’s friends (Jeff, she thinks. They had pre-calc together.) says something and Steve only rolls his eyes as he replies. Eddie’s grinning at them over his shoulder. Neither of their postures have changed. Robin feels like the room’s spinning.
She knows about Eddie. Eddie knows about her. It’s never been verbally said, but birds of a feather and all that. It doesn’t have to be. She must accidentally bump into something in her attempt to rebalance the world because Steve’s head is snapping toward her and panic flashes in his eyes as he tries to rip his hands away from Eddie’s.
Eddie only holds them tighter as he locks eyes with her.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he tells Steve in a hushed tone. In front of him, Steve’s visibly shaking like a leaf, mouth opening and closing but not making a sound. Robin’s heart breaks a little. He looks downright terrified. Eddie’s eyes haven’t left her. “She’s safe. Aren’t you, Birdie?”
The question is directed at her. She swallows and nods quickly. “Y-yeah!” She winces at the volume of it. Clearing her throat, she tries again, taking a step forward like she’s approaching a frightened animal. “You can trust me, Steve.” Uses his first name instead of the ‘dingus’ that’s grown affectionate. “I'm—” She glances over at the booth that’s gone quiet. She doesn’t want to out herself to the entire freak population of Hawkins High.
“I’m a friend,” she settles on.
It takes Steve a moment for it to sink in, and when it does, his eyes somehow grow bigger in understanding. “Oh,” he breathes out, like a sigh of relief. Eddie’s rubbing his thumb over Steve’s knuckles.
“Yeah, dingus.” Robin’s close enough now to nudge his shoulder with hers. “Oh. Why don’t you go on break? I’ve got this.”
Steve gives her a grateful look and tugs Eddie to the booth to join Eddie’s —their— friends.
“It’s about damn time you guys remembered the rest of us,” the curly haired one complains as they both slide in on the same side. Eddie throws a straw wrapper at him and Robin stops paying attention after that.
permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero
🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
you go in then I'll blow
eddie munson x ditsy!fem!reader
a smutty sequel to baby can we smoke?
3k
cw: 18+. innocent!reader (not minor-coded), sex while high, oral (m & f receiving), spit, smoking, no y/n, no physical descriptions
fresh out the oven for you guys, here's alllll the filthy goodness.
enjoy! xx
Eddie allows himself one last squeeze before dropping his hand and straightening up to his full height— kneeling, that is, which is tall enough for him to gaze down at you all splayed out on the picnic bench, your legs spread in your tiny little pleated skirt, propped on your elbows so you can look up at him, ready and waiting. He draws his hand up your calf to the back of your knee, hooking his palm there and slinging your leg over his shoulder with a waggle of his eyebrows. He's going for roguish, but it must come across a little dorky because you giggle at him, your wide doe-eyes crinkling up tight with amusement.
He can't be mad about it, though, because your giggle is cute, the sound like sunshine and tinkling bells, and Eddie's just realized how much he likes the shape of your smile. Drawn in, he leans forward, shifting your legs back and open for him with the breadth of his shoulders. You lay flat along the bench, your breath hitching as he comes close to your heat. He could taste you now, and he wants to, but your obvious anticipation stirs the mischievous part of him. So Eddie denies himself and you, turning his cheek at the last moment, pressing slow kisses into the crease of your inner thigh until your breathy pleasured sounds turn to little grunts of impatience.
"C'mon, Eddie," you finally whine, wiggling your ass.
Eddie smiles against your skin, enjoying the way you get petulant when you're needy. "Okay, okay," he huffs, feigning exasperation at your attempt to hurry him along.
Finally, he flips your skirt up out of the way. Looking up the clothed plane of your body, Eddie watches you as he finally leans all the way in and kitten licks your clit, gradually applying more pressure with each stroke until your breasts start to heave in that fuzzy sweater. He wants to keep watching you, keep seeing the different ways he can make you react, but the high makes everything more vivid and potent. With it, he can't help but become consumed by what's right in front of him.
Now, Eddie's whole world is your cunt.
He’s surrounded, immersed in you: the sharp-sweet tang of your slippery arousal in his mouth, the heady musk of your skin in his nose, which whistles against you with each heavy breath when he presses his face into your supple lips, desperate to get his tongue into every hidden crevice. And there are so many contrasting textures for him to explore. The fuzzy velvet of your outer lips. The smooth slick of those smaller folds as he burrows in deeper. The firm, fat bead of your clit nestled into its hood, peeking out further to greet him the more he treats her nicely. The flexing strength of your hole, the futile way it tries to grip his tongue and keep him inside as he teases it. There's so much of your sweet, plump fruit to devour, and devour Eddie does, eating your pussy entirely for his own pleasure.
He dips up and down, licking and sucking, nuzzling and nibbling, entranced by the sensation of you against his face. His mind meanders as he nudges back up again, rubs his lips on the soft grit stubble of your mound. You must've shaved a couple days ago, Eddie figures, imagining you with your foot up on the porcelain rim of your tub at home, bending this way and that as you shave your kitty with a little pink razor. And fuck, that's doing something for him right now. Probably 'cause he's high and also ‘cause he maybe liked watching you— sweet, doe-eyed little you— take hits off the fat blunt he twisted a little too much. You were such a good listener, so good at following his directions; obedient to a fault, he’d thought earlier, and in between dipping his tongue into your flexing hole and sucking the sweetness from your lips like your pussy really is a peach, he’s thinking about what else you might do with him here in the woods if he asks you to.
Soon, Eddie wanders too far, getting lost in the feeling of your firm clit rolling against his tongue. Mesmerized, he swirls it over and over in the same pattern, until the repetitive motion feels so satisfying in and of itself that it’s almost incidental when he notices how frantic your moans have become and how your thighs are now twitching against his ears.
Fuck, you’re gonna cum on his tongue, aren’t you? He’s gonna make you cum all over his goddamn face. Eddie groans against your sweetness as the hazy realization solidifies in his mind. He presses in harder, sucking your little bean into his mouth and latching hard out of giddiness, hard enough that you squeal and thrash and push against his forehead with your palm. He steals another moment before somewhat reluctantly relenting, unpursing his lips and rubbing the flat of his tongue against your clit instead. Up and down, up and down, steady and firm— just twice more before you buck, boxing Eddie’s ears with your thighs so he can barely hear the sound of your broken, sweetly anguished groan.
As you hit the height of your pleasure, your hips squirm wildly, unpredictable like an untamed horse; he chases you, keeping up the pressure as best he can to work you through it. Once your twitching stops, and the tension in your body seems to edge over into overstimulation, he steals one last quick, wet lap with his wide tongue and pulls away, smacking his lips at the way the orgasm ripened your taste.
Immediately, you pop up to sitting, a healthy sheen dewing your face and your pink-tinged eyes clear and sparkling. Eddie looks up at you, and with the way the sun halos you from behind—gold along the edges of your hair, radiant like the look on your face as you gaze down at him— something sharp-tender twists in his chest. You stretch forward, scrunched up around your middle so you can reach him where he kneels beyond the end of the bench. You anchor your hand on his cheek and draw your thumb underneath his lower lip, wiping yourself from his face. Your touch is soft but not hesitant, and the feeling of you stroking his face renders him motionless, lax like you have him in some kind of weed-fueled angelic trance.
It breaks when you take your touch away, swinging around on the bench and hopping to your feet. You try to haul him up by both his hands, pulling hard and hardly moving him until he helps you get him to his feet, snorting a chuckle at your consternation. You flash him a look which is far less intimidating than he knows you want it to be. Amused and only mildly chastened, Eddie follows without resistance as you tug him along by the hands; when you push down lightly on his shoulders, he drops his weight, sitting on the bench in your place.
"Now your turn," you say, your voice sweet and warm, your eyes gleaming eagerly as they fall to his lap. Reflexively, Eddie’s legs shift farther open, spreading almost proudly to show off the tightness at his crotch. It brings his attention back to how goddamn horny you've made him, and it takes some effort to keep from tugging on himself right in front of you like a creep. He rubs his palms along the rough denim of his thighs to relieve the itch to touch instead.
You start to sink down, and he’s almost too high and turned on to notice how you’re about to dent your knees on the little sticks and rocks scattered on the damp soil, but he catches you just in time. He doesn’t give a shit about his own jeans, but he feels a pang— guilt? Conscience? Some sense of gentlemanliness? —at the thought of you enduring the same.
“Wait, wait.” Eddie’s hands shoot out, catching under your elbows to stop you, and your brow crumples briefly but smoothes when he quickly shucks his vest off, spreading it out face-down for you to kneel on.
“Oh!” All at once, your fruity scent hits him like a cloud at the same time your lips press a firm, sticky kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Eddie!”
Before he can react, you’re already plopping down, shuffling forward between his knees and, once satisfied with your position, promptly planting your ass on your heels. And Eddie tries to focus on keeping his composure, but without the distraction of eating your pussy and knowing how close he is to having your mouth on him, the need within him flares, raging all insistent and painful. By the time you’ve worked his belt open, his chest is already heaving, all of him yearning for the moment you’ll touch him. And maybe it’s embarrassing, but Eddie can't bite back a hiss when you finally tug down his boxers enough to free him and his heated flesh hits the cool air.
You pout, your brow crinkled sympathetically. "Don't worry, Eddie," you say, so sincere it just makes him ache all the more. "I'll take care of you."
You look up at him as you run your fist lightly up his length, and even just that slight touch is like a gut punch. He almost whimpers as you grasp just beneath the tip, your gaze dipping down to his cock as you pinch your bottom lip with your teeth. And it’s when he thinks he might have to beg you to finally put your mouth on him, dignity be damned, that you dip your head and take him in.
Eddie’s palms scrape against the rough wood bench as he grips the edge tight, holding on as the ache in his dick transforms with a surge into a hot flare of pleasure, all concentrated where you've started suckling on his tip like a lollipop. You explore his cock like he did your pussy— licking and sucking and nibbling his heated skin, sometimes dipping shallowly down past that sensitive ridge on occasion, but mostly concentrating your attention on his throbbing head.
It’s feeling really good, and his eyes have just slipped closed when he hears you hum, and then suddenly that wet warmth is gone. They snap open to see your face hovering just above his cock; with a curious tip of your head, you glance up at him through your lashes and ask, "D'you like it sloppy, Eddie?"
Oh. Eddie swallows thickly, cheeks prickling as his dick twitches hard in your grasp. "Yeah," he says, his voice faint. "I like it sloppy."
You smile, appearing pleased. "Okay," you reply simply, pursing your lips and letting a generous amount of spit fall from your glistening lips onto his cockhead. You chase it with your tongue, laving up and down his length with long, sweeping, sloppy motions before languidly taking him into your mouth, bobbing halfway down his length for the first time.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He can feel all the blood in his body cleave into two paths, some racing up his chest and into his face to flush him beet red, and the rest surging downward to harden him to steel. He’s had sex high before, but maybe he’s higher than he thought ‘cause this is just something else entirely, a maelstrom of burning need coaxed by the heaven of your soft, wet mouth. It’s intense, and he just can't help it. His hips buck off the bench, enough so that, even as he tries to stop the motion, he nudges the back of your throat.
Of course, you gag, coughing around him a couple times in the aftermath. "Sorry, sorry," he gasps, jerking his hips back as you lift your head. It pulls him from your mouth, and his cock bounces under its own weight between you.
"S'okay,” you say, and your words are thick but, to his relief, your expression is genuinely unbothered. “It’ll just make me more spitty, anyways.”
You lean back in, working your jaw to gather the new rush of saliva. Eddie watches, entranced, as your hot pink tongue slinks along his cock until every inch of his flushed skin is shiny and slick from your drooling mouth. He expects you to wrap your lips back around him then, but you surprise him by shimmying yourself down lower so that you're looking up from beneath him instead— the perfect position for him to rub his dick on your face.
And that’s just— he can’t believe that’s what you want him to do, but clearly it is, because you’re fucking smiling up at him and nudging your little nose against the side of his length, happy as can be to have his cock lying across your cheek. Experimentally, he moves his hips, pulling back so his tip rests against your chin before pushing forward again. Aided by your saliva, the motions are smooth, the feeling of your skin slick and warm and soft, made even better when you open your mouth and kiss at him with your lips and tongue as his length glides over them. You take his hand and lift it, encouraging him to direct his own path, which he does— using the valley between his spread thumb and index finger, Eddie keeps himself pressed down snugly as he ruts against you, working himself up to a steady grind.
The sight of it alone is almost enough to get him there: your eyes fuck-me heavy, your face sticky and soaked with spit and precum, the way the rutting of his cock shifts your supple cheek and swollen lips, dragging and molding them with its rhythmic thrusts. It might be one of the most erotic things he’s ever seen.
"Oh my god," Eddie moans, chuckling in disbelief. "Holy fuck, you're—"
His brain promptly short circuits when you tilt your chin down and suck one of his balls into your mouth. His hips jerk and fall still as he groans, overwhelmed by the sensation; kindly, you start to knead his tip with your hand, keeping it happy while you lavish him further down. Eddie watches wide-eyed as your cheeks hollow and relax rhythmically, massaging one ball in the hot cavern of your mouth before swapping to the other, all the while dragging your tongue along the underside of his sack in a move that has his belly twisting up all sticky tight and his head feeling suddenly faint.
His occasional grunts and groans have evolved now into a ragged sound Eddie makes on every exhale, and his moans increase in pitch as your fist starts to slide down from his tip over the rest of him. He can't stifle any of the noises you're pulling from him, nor can he control it when he actually fucking whines as your sucking lips latch to the underside of his cock, gradually crawling upward with open-mouthed kisses until you reach his openly weeping slit.
And then you’re jerking him off with quick little flicks of your wrist, your tongue wiggling against the underside of his head—
"I'm gonna cum," Eddie gasps, hit with the knowledge all at once as the feeling surges up like an unstoppable force. "Oh shit, fuck, fuck, I'm comi—ngh!" The word becomes a strangled groan as the pleasure contracts sharply and then expands outward in a rush of liquid ecstasy. Eddie empties across your tongue, his cum spurting in lines over your lips and up the apple of your cheek, so high it almost kisses your eye.
You're a mess.
You're so. Fucking. Hot.
When he finally comes back down, Eddie notices you're trying to clean said mess from your face, using your fingers like little windshield wipers to clear your eyes and flicking spit and cum off into the dirt. Hurriedly, he peels his flannel down his arms, leaving him in a T-shirt with his jeans still hanging open, neglected for the moment in his haste to help you. "Here," he says, "I got it."
You drop your hands, letting them rest in your lap as Eddie wipes off your face, trying to be both as thorough and as careful as he can. It's not perfect— your baby hairs are still stuck down in places around your hairline, and you've got a stubborn smudge of mascara beneath one eye that won't come clean— but the cum is gone, and you're no longer covered in spit, at least. Eddie balls up the flannel when he's done, tossing it onto the tabletop in a crumpled heap to be figured out later.
When he turns back around, you're on your feet, straightening your disheveled clothing.
“That was fun!" You chirp brightly, bending down and pulling up your sagging socks.
"It was. Really fun," he agrees, looking at you for a moment. "I didn't think you'd... I mean..." You glance up at him with that expression of vague confusion, straightening and plopping onto the bench beside him, bending to pick up his vest from the ground. "I just didn't expect all that, is all. You just seem so..."
He feels a pang of conscience that he may insult you by saying so, but he's spoken too much to back out now. "So innocent," he finishes, one eye squinted in a wince, his lips parted and poised to placate you if his assessment upsets you.
You blink at him owlishly, feeling around inside his vest pockets. Before he can ask what you're looking for, you pull out his box of Marlboros. His jaw snaps shut.
"Innocent?" You ask, tapping the end of the box against the heel of your hand and plucking out the cigarette that popped up with the motion. And he's left reeling when you— sweet, doe-eyed little you— place it smoothly between your lips, reaching over to casually grab his zippo from the tabletop. He barely registers the click and flare as you light up, holding his own fucking box of cigarettes out toward him in offering.
Eddie meets your eyes, dumbfounded by the mirth there. "Huh," you say lightly. "Whatever would make you think that?"
taglist: @probablyin-bed, @ali-r3n, @them-cute-boys, @themellowyellowmomma, @munsonssweets, @crazycat-ladys-blog, @wonderlandwalker, @vinaluvsu, @love-anonymous-writer, @josephquinnsfreckles
#blueywrites#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader
607 notes
·
View notes
Text
So what if like the thing that makes Alpha and Omega pairs, true mates or whatever, is like a detectable thing that they can test for. And like, everyone has their little blood test at birth and then on say, their 18th birthday, the Alpha gets informed as to who their omega is.
Obviously it's a bit of a sexist deal and lots of Omega and their supporters are trying to get it changed so that both parties are informed, to make it fair, and that is getting some traction but right now, the Alpha gets told and the Omega has to wait for them to show up.
Except when Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington.
Eddie burns the envelope.
And yeah, he can't help but watch Steve a little more now that he like, Knows, but he does his best to put it behind him.
And Steve gets into a fight with Nancy wheelers new Omega, when Nancy gets her envelope, and it's not Steve's name inside and it looks like Jonathan came out on top and Steve...well, he looks beaten and sad and that nearly makes Eddie cave but...no. no.
Right up until he has Steve under his hands, pinned to a boathouse wall with a bottle to his throat and Eddie's been thinking of Steve has his Omega for so long it just kind of slips out. Eddie whispers it, 'Omega' and the bottle drops to the floor and shatters more.
And Eddie has to watch it play out from close range on Steve's face, dawning realisation. Deep hurt. And then anger. An angry shield that comes down as he pushes Eddie off.
"Dustin explain to Munson what's up, I'll be outside a minute.". And Steve just stomps out and there's fuck all Eddie can do about it.
And then he kinda gets distracted by hell dimension stuff. For a bit. And Steve's clearly fucking angry with him and Eddie, well, what the fuck is Steve expecting Eddie to do, right? Steve would never have wanted him in the first place. So Eddie is fucking angry. And it comes out spiteful, calling Steve 'big boy' like he knows it'll rile Steve up. Throwing his jacket at Steve so he will cover up, because he can't bare to look at all the skin Steve is showing, especially with fucking Wheeler hanging around. And if it got something of Eddie's on Steve, well then, it doesn't fucking matter does it? Doesn't mean anything.
And it's not until it's all done, and Eddie wakes up fucking high as a kite on pain meds, with non other than Harrington sitting by his bedside that it all slips out, "what are you doing here?"
Steve shrugs, won't look at him, "waiting to see if my Alpha dies, I guess."
And he just sounds so...bereft. so broken.
"Steve, I just...look-"
"Doesn't matter. You've made it clear. It's fine. And you're going to live I guess so I'll just-" and he's standing, turning to leave.
And Eddie knows Steve now. Sees him with the sheep. Knows he isn't a bitch. Knows he's just...a good guy. Knows he isn't any of the things Eddie thought he was.
"You grew up in a fucking castle." Steve pauses, sitting back in the chair to frown at Eddie.
"What has that go to do with-"
Eddie clears his throat, it's dry and scratchy and hurts but he has to do this. "You grew up in a castle. Nice car. Both parents. Preppy clothes, fucking, shitty fucking jock friends. Steve, you would have rejected me in a heartbeat. I live in a fucking trailer and sling drugs on the side I'm not- I couldn't do that to you."
And Steve just, he just starts crying. He nods, wipes his eyes, "I might have," he admits finally, "I don't know what I would have said...but I needed you. Since then I needed you so much and," he sniffles, wipes his pink nose .
"And I didn't know. I couldn't have and I am so sorry but could we just, now, can we just-" and it hurts like fuck but Eddie bites it down because Steve is half clambered into the bed next to him and yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#alpha eddie munson#omega steve harrington#world building#ficlet#i write
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
There’s perks to working a summer job where there’s seemingly no manager. Steve got an at most five minute interview with an overly smiley dude who said, “An independent workforce is very important to us,” and didn’t even check his references before telling Steve that he was hired.
So it’s down to him and Robin alone to open and close Scoops Ahoy. And the lack of any boss—not even a supervisor—is mostly great, means that no-one’s hovering over their shoulders droning on about ‘company policy’, means they can take their breaks as and when, and no-one’s tapping their foot with an eye on the clock.
But then there’s the times where it’s absolutely swamped with customers, and the statistical likelihood of having to serve an asshole skyrockets; and most assholes don’t tend to think of teenagers slinging ice-cream as being worthy of even the tiniest shred of respect.
“Are you wilfully this stupid, missy?” a douchebag snaps at Robin during the lunchtime rush, after she added chocolate sauce on his sundae instead of raspberry.
She remakes the order with a look that, if there was any justice in the world, would make him drop down dead on the spot. But instead, he just scoffs when she passes him the new sundae.
“Have a spectacular day,” Robin says acerbically, and if it was any other time, Steve would be ducking down behind the counter, pretending to check on stock levels so he can hide his laughter.
Except Robin’s also doing that thing where she blinks a lot, and Steve knows she’s fighting tears of frustration because he privately does something remarkably similar.
There’s a sinking feeling in his chest coupled with what’s becoming a steadily frequent flare of protectiveness. That one usually comes with the kids and The Upside Down—except Robin is a girl who’s round about his age, so he half-heartedly assumes it must be because he has a crush on her.
But he’s not even thinking about said crush at all when he gently bumps her towards the break room with his hip and says, “Take yours first, I’ve got this.”
For half a second, Robin’s eyes seem to shine in gratitude before she puts a hand over her heart and declares, dripping in sarcasm, “You’re a god among men, Harrington, I never believed what anyone said about you.”
“You’re wel—hey, what did they say about me?”
The door to the break room shuts, but not before he hears Robin let out a genuine snort of laughter. He smiles and pivots back to the register.
The line’s calmed down; Steve recognises a substitute teacher waiting to be served: Mrs Greeves, who’s been at Hawkins High since the sixties, at least. There’s no other adult in the shop, so it’s presumably her little granddaughter who’s running about the place, without so much as a glancing eye on her.
But Steve doesn’t have to worry about a potential lost child scenario, because a guy suddenly slips out of the booth he’d been sitting in, bending down to the kid’s eye level and subtly ensuring that she doesn’t hightail it out of there.
It takes a few seconds for Steve to recognise him; he’s still getting used to the whole phenomenon of seeing people without the high school setting behind them. Like, Robin used to be just a name from a class he can’t even recall, and now he knows her for her dry wit and love of cryptic crosswords.
And this Eddie Munson is sort of a different beast from the guy Steve saw stomping around the cafeteria tables.
He’s dressed pretty much the same, (Hellfire shirt sans the leather jacket must be the ‘summer look’, Steve reckons), but he’s quieter as he chats with the little girl, letting her try on one of his skull rings to distract from her obvious boredom. His grin is softer, too.
Mrs Greeves clears her throat, and Steve promptly puts on his vacant ‘delightful customer service’ smile.
“Afternoon, Mrs Greeves, what can I do you for?”
She orders a simple strawberry cone for the kid, Abigail, and two scoops of lemon and vanilla in a cup for herself—appropriate, Steve thinks, because her face looks like she’s sucking on a lemon half the time.
As he prepares the ice-cream, he’s quickly remembering why she’s on the list of substitute teachers that students dread, even if he’s only had the ‘pleasure’ of being in a class supervised by her once. He has vague memories of how she’d talk with other teachers in a scandalised stage whisper about students from ‘broken homes’—he’s pretty sure she’s still an austere teacher at the Sunday School, too.
“Abigail,” she says sharply, when Steve finishes the cone, and she finally seems to realise her granddaughter isn’t by her side, “what have I told you about—”
“Oh, it’s okay,” Eddie says hurriedly. Abigail hands him the ring back, very carefully dropping it into his palm, and he gives her a gentle smile. “I don’t mind—”
“—not talking to strangers?” Mrs Greeves finishes, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken.
“But,” Eddie says with tiny frown, “you know me, ma’am, I’m—”
“Let me be plain then, Mr Munson.” She finally turns to favour Eddie with a scathing look. “I meant that I don’t want my granddaughter around a corrupting influence.”
There’s an awful silence while Abigail collects the cone.
“Oh,” Eddie says, still crouched down by the booth. He sounds very small.
And Steve’s view of Mrs Greeves quickly turns from a general dislike to an icy hatred.
“And here’s yours,” he says, sliding the cup over.
She looks down. Her mouth goes all pinched in displeasure.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
“It’s your ice-cream,” Steve says, playing up a confused blink. “Is—is this not what you ordered? I’m terribly sorry for the—”
“Don’t be obtuse, Mr Harrington. These scoops are tiny; they barely fill the cup!”
Yup, Steve thinks with a savage satisfaction. They’re the size of a melon ball, and even that’s being generous.
“Mrs Greeves, I’m afraid it’s store policy. Nothing to do with—”
“What kind of policy could possibly justify—”
“Rudeness,” Steve says smoothly.
Eddie’s head jerks up at that, his mouth slightly agape.
“Mr Harrington,” Mrs Greeves says, her face turning puce, “I would like to see your manager.”
“The manager,” Steve says flatly. “Okay, sure. I’ll go get him.”
What he does next, compared to everything else that’s happened in his life thus far, isn’t all that stupid.
Well. Maybe a little.
It’s worth it though, to see the way Eddie Munson’s eyes widen at the sight.
Making sure to have zero expression throughout, Steve mimes walking downstairs, throws off his hat while crouched behind the counter, then re-emerges with a quick ruffle of his hair.
“How can I help you?” he asks, like they’ve only just met.
The cup of minuscule ice-cream is soon up-ended as Mrs Greeves storms out, barking over her shoulder, “Abigail, come here!”
Eddie stands to let the kid out of the way, who seems blissfully ignorant with her cone. Steve’s sure he hears him mutter under his breath, “Jesus, she’s not a dog.”
“I’ll be reporting you, Steve Harrington, make no mistake!”
Yeah, good fucking luck. I sure as hell don’t know who really runs this place.
“Uh-huh,” Steve says. “Looking forward to it. Harrington with two ‘r’s one ‘n’, ma’am.”
“Shit, Harrington,” Eddie drawls. He’s leaning next to the booth, hip cocked, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen it himself, Steve might’ve been convinced that the Eddie from a moment ago was a different person. “That was not worth getting fired over.”
“I’m not getting fired,” Steve says—although honestly, if that had been a real threat, he thinks his actions would probably have been the same. Huh. “I meant it, dude, there’s no manager here.”
Eddie nods slightly, looks up at the Scoops Ahoy sign and grins. “So you and Buckley are the skeleton crew on this ship.”
“Uh, I guess?”
Come on, man, Steve thinks, as Eddie keeps up the wide grin like it’s a shield. This isn’t the high school cafeteria; I’m not about to hit your lunch tray or whatever.
Out loud, he calls into the back, “Hey, Robin, the chocolate’s low. I’m just gonna put in a new batch if you want some of the old stuff.”
The sliding doors open.
Robin sighs as if she’s just had a very relaxing facial, but she’s actually holding a folded newspaper with the cryptic crossword all finished.
“I am so chilled out,” she says, with a delivery that could rival Eddie Munson’s trademark dramatics.
“You’re so weird,” Steve says mildly while making up a cup with the leftover chocolate ice-cream.
“You’ve just got no taste, Harrington.” She waggles the crossword at him. “You should give ‘em a try.”
Steve wrinkles his nose. “I’m no good at that code-breaking stuff.” He passes her the cup, goes to start assembling his own and pauses. “Hey, Munson, you want some?”
“Oh, uh, I’m good,” Eddie says, sounding suddenly wrong-footed. “Sorry, I’m just, uh, killing time before my movie starts. The other stores said if I wasn’t buying anything I should get out, so…”
“So you’ve come to our oceanic sanctum,” Robin deadpans.
Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, just ‘cause you do crosswords doesn’t mean you have to turn into a dictionary. Ow.” He doesn’t quite duck in time to avoid the newspaper smacking him in the face. He turns to address Eddie again, who appears to be fighting back laughter. “What’re you gonna see, Munson?”
Eddie’s eyes glance away for a second. “Something very scary and befitting of my stature, Harrington.”
Robin, who’s made a habit of memorising the mall’s movie schedules, checks her watch and narrows her eyes. “Return to Oz?”
Eddie’s cheeks start to glow. “Fuck off, Buckley, I’ve never liked you.”
“You’re such a liar, I’ve heard your applause at band practice—”
“Okay, but,” Steve cuts in, jumping up onto the counter with one hand. “I thought the whole point was Oz was a dream. How can she return to—?”
“Christ, I don’t know, Harrington,” Eddie says. “I didn’t pick it for critical analysis; the poster had a dude with a pumpkin head on it, and I thought it looked cool.”
“Oh, I saw that,” Robin says. “Made me think of when all those pumpkins went bad. Like, imagine if they had faces.”
Unthinkingly, Steve says around his ice-cream spoon, “No way, I’m not dealing with that, too.”
“Excusez-moi?” Robin says.
“Hmm?” Steve says innocently.
“Hey, you missed quite a show earlier on, Buckley,” Eddie says. “Reckon Harrington deserves a tally in the ‘you rule’ column.”
Steve glares at Robin. “I told you to keep that outta view of the customers.”
“Ah, but I’m not buying anything,” Eddie points out, “ergo, not a customer.”
“Ergo,” Steve mimics.
“That board is strictly for romantic successes,” Robin says.
Eddie snorts. “Aw, that’s hardly fair. I think it should have more… rounded criteria.”
Robin’s eyes narrow again. “Eddie Munson, you’ve never complimented a jock in your life, don’t start now.”
“Hey,” Steve says, overselling a ‘wounded’ expression. “I’m more than that, y’know. I contain multitudes.”
“Sure,” Eddie says, smiling. “Folks, we’ve got Hawkins’s own Whitman right here.”
Steve flips him off and, on a whim, decides to channel his inner Dustin.
“Maybe I just see the world more clearly than you two ‘cause I’m free of societal constraints.”
“You’re working in a mall,” Robin says.
“High school societal contraints. I am unshackled and ergo, free.”
“Damn,” Eddie says, patting down his pockets for an imaginary pen, “I should use that.”
“Stop inflating Harrington’s ego and go catch your totally scary movie,” Robin says.
Eddie checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Um.” And Steve thinks that it almost looks like he’s reluctant to leave. ��Time flies, I guess. Better go ashore.” He catches Steve’s eye, gives a tiny little salute as he leaves. “May your summer continue to be mundane and manager-less.”
“You’re a poet, Munson,” Steve says, even though Eddie’s already out the door.
“So what was the show I missed?” Robin says. “I couldn’t hear anything back there.”
“Nothing that exciting.”
Steve tells her, and even though a smile tugs at her mouth as he re-enacts his mime, for some reason her eyes are kinda sad for most of it.
“Good job, Popeye,” she says thoughtfully—and though it directly contradicts her own words, she marks up a singular ‘you rule’ tally for the rest of her shift before wiping it off.
Eddie doesn’t re-appear after the movie—not that Steve’s keeping track of time, or anything—but at least they don’t have anymore nightmares for customers. As Steve mops, he thinks about how Dustin’s return from Camp Something Something is approaching—and the fact that he’s circled the date with a goofy smiley face is between him and his bedroom calendar.
He smiles to himself while clocking out of the now ghostly mall, recalling Eddie’s parting words.
The thought of a mundane, manager-less summer stretching before him sounds pretty damn good.
#i think this is my first scoops fic! had fun putting in some silly foreshadowing ❤️#steve and robin#pre steddie#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#eddie and robin#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#briefly implied homophobia
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
crazy-mad for you
Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers) - Happy Hours series
Chicago, 1991.
When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.
A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...
This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.
Word count: 16.7 K
Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names.
Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.
Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️
I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.
Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.
Dividers by me ✌️
The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn.
It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips).
Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months.
Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.
You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall.
“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”
“Hey, hotshot.”
The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool.
“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation.
“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies.
He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”
“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll.
You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig.
It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights).
Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross.
You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air.
“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.
You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.”
“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.
The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.
“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks.
“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks.
“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns, “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..”
“Listen dickh-”
Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.”
“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside.
“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts.
“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips.
The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.
Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was.
An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat.
You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick.
It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish.
When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure.
He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.
As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’
“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter.
You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”
He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.
“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious.
You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”
His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”
You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”
His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago.
On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving.
Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).
The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy.
Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward.
There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain.
You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice.
He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose.
“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on.
Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”
You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.
“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you.
You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.
“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch.
“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”
Trip her? Oh. He means you.
“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”
There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control.
Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck.
“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night.
As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall.
“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink.
The whiskey burns but you barely feel it.
“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes.
She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-”
As you take another sip, the door swings open.
Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.
“Hey, you okay?”
His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office.
You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you.
Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by.
It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting.
“Ed…”
He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you.
“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too.
He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy.
“Oh.”
“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.
“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.”
“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare.
Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?”
“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -”
“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”
The air between you is charged and heavy.
I want to. What does that mean?
Eddie covers himself quickly.
“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.”
You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you.
“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”
He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.
Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.
“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness.
You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.”
He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes.
“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it.
With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task.
“Very gentle,” he murmurs.
“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”
“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.
You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth.
“Shit, sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll live.”
You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other.
“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards.
“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?”
He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.
“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight.
He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass.
“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.
Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body.
“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”
“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”
“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.
“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt.
“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much.
“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.”
He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…
But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.”
With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught.
You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night
The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night.
“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness).
“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself.
“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?”
You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.
“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition.
The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”
“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise.
“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine.
You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.”
“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.”
He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.
“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.
“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”
Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”
“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.”
“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”
“Probably.”
“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”
It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”
“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”
“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”
“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”
“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”
“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”
Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.
“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”
“Perv.”
“Witch.”
You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.”
You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad.
“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”
You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live.
“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.”
Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline.
“Rum. And Coke.”
His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.
“Eddie. He was the owner.”
He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working.
“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.”
You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.
“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”
“And a Coke?”
“And a Coke.”
Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall.
“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand.
“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?”
“I’ve had worse.”
He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs.
“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door.
“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.
The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.
Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.
The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”
Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”
She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”
By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”
You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”
Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks.
“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”
The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean.
You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you.
Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie.
“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola.
You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him.
He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip.
“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.”
Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.
“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger.
“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.”
He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew.
The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him.
“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes.
“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.”
You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer.
It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too.
Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”
“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little.
He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.”
You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink.
He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime.
It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside.
The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.
He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently.
“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee.
You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.”
He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.”
Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real.
And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary.
Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out.
Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering.
“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”
“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”
You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.
You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door.
“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door.
“Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car.
You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on.
You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place.
After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.
You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both.
Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head.
While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.
You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone.
After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case.
It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).
“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne.
“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”
Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.”
Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you.
You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.”
There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.
He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.”
“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on.
The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain.
It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting.
His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag.
“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off.
“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”
You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.”
Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm.
You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours.
“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.
“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning.
His smile makes your tummy flutter.
“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening.
Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”
You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..”
Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks.
“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful.
You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong?
“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly.
The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.
You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”
He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”
Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary.
“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you.
He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?”
“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive.
“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue.
You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat.
You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too.
He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever.
He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word.
You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder.
Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real.
He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp.
Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too.
Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere.
“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again.
“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth.
Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?”
You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper.
He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.”
Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek.
Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.
He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.”
“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did.
“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes.
“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way.
Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms.
When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break.
She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.
The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again).
You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement.
You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson.
With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time...
Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door.
You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager.
After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley…
Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car?
Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief.
“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?”
Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself.
Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter.
“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.”
Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip.
“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over.
Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close.
It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.
You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car.
“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.
“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.”
You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.
“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.”
You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt.
“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”
You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine.
“Well then…” you say quietly.
“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes.
There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon.
“Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly.
Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”
You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”
A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers.
You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along.
He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say.
“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.
“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say.
Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.
You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat.
“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.”
“You should be so lucky.”
Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss.
“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this…
There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops.
You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.
The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8.
“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through.
“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?”
His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat.
“You gonna behave?”
All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key.
Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass.
A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected.
Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?”
“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath.
“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”
While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way.
Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again.
“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on.
You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself.
“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.
Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”
He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green.
“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter.
Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn.
“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again.
“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?”
You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.
Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”
“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.”
Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?”
“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing.
He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…”
Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance.
“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there.
His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip.
You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges.
Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap.
You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”
“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”
You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?”
He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”
Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him.
Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips.
Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you.
Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise.
You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat.
He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes.
Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight.
“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath.
Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one.
When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time.
His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat.
“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him.
Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.
“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more.
Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.”
That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle.
“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut.
“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace.
Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”
His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.”
You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand.
He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..”
Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!”
His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?”
You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.
His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts.
As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction.
His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.
You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes.
“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…”
You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny.
He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press.
His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak.
“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit.
“Fuhhh- Eddie.”
One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man.
His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping.
His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face.
“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss.
Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge.
Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living.
“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter.
“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”
You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow.
“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand.
You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.
Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”
You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that.
Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs.
You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”
“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it.
The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are.
It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you.
His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder.
“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?”
You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full.
Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.
“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”
Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…”
“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager.
You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs.
“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him.
You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.
As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving.
Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.
He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.
“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”
The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside.
You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch.
“You feel unreal, baby.”
He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest.
After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips.
“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet.
“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.
You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks.
“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.
“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.
There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.
You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.
The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob.
Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze.
You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.”
He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door.
“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.
Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer.
He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.
You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers.
Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.
You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong.
“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod.
“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.
He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”
“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.”
He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.”
You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep.
Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️
#eddie munson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#bouncer!eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson stranger things fic#stranger things#stranger things s4#stranger things fic#frenemies to lovers#stranger things AU#bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader#bangaveragefics
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
the boy is mine (carol's edition)
you know i had to do it to 'em. if you'd like to take a crack at the 'the boy is mine' writing challenge, you can check it out here. you can also see the masterlist of everyone's works here.
a/n: for me, how eddie was fleshed out in FOI has always been how i see him. hurting, but goofy, but snarky, but sweet, but loving, but scared, but all that. eddie 'has taken care of himself since third grade' munson just makes sense to me. in this ficlet, our romantic night in gets muddled when eddie doesn't know how to just let someone love him right. i've also always have written eddie as older than he actually is, so here -- he's 25. argue with the wall.
tw: 18+, angst, hurt/comfort, some smutty references but no smut, references to smoking and drinking. some arguing but nothing crazy.
The day was hard on his shoulders and back, no one should be hunched over the hood of a car for this long -- and even being young isn't saving him from the grimace he makes every time he gets out of his bed with a decades old mattresss. Eddie cracks his neck each way while he chugs down the road leading to Forest Hills, slick and shiny with rain from the afternoon. The orangey yellow headlights on his beat up '71 Chevrolet bounce cheerily off the darkened asphalt, but the scrape, clatter, and growl of his engine and whatever else was a stark reminder that this van was on it's last leg. As bright as the headlights were, the gloomy purpled evening sky was a perfect match to his mood.
Today is Eddie Munson's birthday.
For the past few years, Eddie has spent his birthday working double shifts at the auto shop and then meeting the guys at the Hideout to get so drunk he can't see. Can't be sad about your birthday if you're too drunk to think about how your mama's dead and your dad won't call. Can't be sad about how you won't ever get to hear her sing you happy birthday, or put on a record, or dance with you in the living room. Or have your dad make dinner and put the six pack away if only for that night. To not run out on 'a job' or 'work a late shift' where he won't come back for days afterward.
He'd drink and drink until you had to hold him up to get him out of the bar, piling him into the back seat and having the guys follow you home to help load him into bed. He always looked forward to the greasy diner hangover breakfast in the morning where it could be just the two of you, and not his birthday, and not all the awful things he thinks he is.
The gravel groans and crunches when he pulls in at the side of the trailer he used to share with Wayne. With another roll of his head and shoulders he kills the ignition, hopping out of the van and leaning over to grab his bag. It's only when he slings it over his shoulder that he notices the warm glow of the kitchen light on, passing muted through the small curtains. He hip checks the door shut and makes his way up the steps that need repairing -- another thing to add to the list for 'Spring Cleaning' in a couple weeks that he knows he'll forget to do until you remind him or one of the boards rots out.
Eddie's ring tap against the metal handle and he braces for the screech of the door, only to be met with the cozy blend of garlic, onion, and rosemary hitting his nose first. He swallows while he kicks off his work boots, turning the corner to see you in the kitchenette, putting the lid back onto the one large pasta pot he has and turning the burner off.
"Oh!" you jump when you see him, shock turning into a smile, "You're earlier than I thought you'd be. Hold on!"
"What're y--"
He's interrupted by you hurrying into the fridge, glass clinking when you pull out a Mionetto bottle that was already opened to reveal the cork.
"Surprise!" you ring out, popping the bottle with a little flourish, "Happy birthday!"
He stands there, unsure at first what he's looking at, trying to take it all in. You in the kitchen with an apron on, the table set nice, a cake set on the counter to cool with a covered bowl of what looks like home made vanilla frosting next to it. To the side, a familiar small notebook lays opened to a buttercream recipe -- his mom's buttercream recipe, still scrawled in her loopy handwriting on yellowing pages with fading blue ink.
"Melvald's didn't have any like, nice cups," you say with a scrunch of your nose as you pour two glasses of prosecco into flimsy plastic flutes, "Is that okay?"
"Uh..." he snaps back to reality when you hand him the cup, "Y-yeah that's okay."
"Happy birthday, handsome," you smile, raising your drink before you take a sip, he follows suit.
"What is all this?" he asks, voice sounding like it's coming from someone else. Objectively, he should be falling to his knees right now, crying with adoration for you. Sobbing over the clear effort you've put in for a romantic night together at the trailer.
"Um," you suck in your lips quickly, and release them, eyes lowering to the scuffed linoleum, "I uh, I made braised short rib and mashed potatoes, some broccoli. Wayne told me that um, that your dad used to smoke them for your birthday but we don't have a smoker so..."
"Why?"
The swell in his heart builds from genuine affection to suspicious bitterness, this was way too much.
"Did you not check the calendar today or something? It's kind of a big day," you try to lighten the mood with a laugh, taking the apron off and hanging it on the hook by the hallway, "Sit, sit."
He follows your direction, sitting at the table where the place setting is the best it can be with what you have. You even folded up the paper towels nicely. He silently sips on the bubbles, uncomfortable on the makeshift throw pillow cushion on the chair, while you take the plate in front of him and begin serving.
"I should um," he starts, voice gravelly, "I should wash my hands and uh, and change or..."
"Yeah," you nod, voice higher pitched than expected, "Go, go ahead. It'll all be ready when you're done washing up."
He leaves the glass behind, thudding into the bedroom where he notices a Frederick's of Hollywood bag sitting at the end of the bed. A small pile of gifts in shiny blue paper lay stacked up pretty on his dresser -- a card front in center 'Eddie My Love' - you write it in the same way you sing it to him absentmindedly every now and again. Flipping the lyrics every time.
He swallows again, pulling in his cheeks and biting down while he peels off his coveralls and slips into what he was planning to wear to drinks later -- a band tee and some worn jeans. It feels cheap to wear this now, now that you've put in all this effort. Now that you're looking all sweet and put together in the kitchen for him. He rolls his shoulders again, trying to stretch the frustration out. He doesn't wanna be mad at you, you didn't do anything wrong. He doesn't wanan feel so sick in his chest over it -- but he does. All this work for what?
Eddie takes his rings off to wash his hands, using the same Dove bar soap to wash the remaining grime off his face from work. Big inhale, big exhale into the towel on the door before making it back to the kitchen where the dinette table was ready for dinner, two tapered candles lit in old holders on the side. He sits across from you, your eyes glittering in the light of the flame.
"You didn't have to do this," he says quietly. Your lips twitch into a half smile, head cocking slightly to the side.
"I know, but it's your day...it's a big one, too. The big two-five," your voice doing its best to soothe, "Can't just, I dunno -- get plastered at The Hideout every year..."
"Sure I can," he shrugs with a quirk of his brows, pushing the mashed potatoes around with his fork. He watches the melty pat of butter ooze off one of the edges like a volcano, pooling in next to the broccoli.
"And you like that? That's fun for you?" you chuckle before noticing he's just playing with his food, "You gonna eat?"
"Getting plastered at The Hideout is like, tradition," he mutters, looking at the clock over the cabinets, "And we're gonna be late meeting the guys."
"Ed..." you say, a vapor of disappointment floating through his name when you say it. He winces.
"Like I said, babe," he says, "You didn't have to do all this -- y'know, spend all this extra cash on dinner and --"
"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to -- I wanted to do something nice so that your birthday could be sp -- "
"Okay, well I don't need my birthday to be special, it never is," he snaps, he doesn't mean to, "I didn't ask you to do this for me."
You hold your soft gaze at him, shoulders round down while you rest a cheek on your palm. If Eddie's mama was still alive, she'd tell you to get your elbows off the table.
In the flame, your glittering eyes turn glassy. You let a soft breath out through your nose, a sulk clear in your posture.
"You're right," you mumble, a soft squeak of a sound while you slowly stand, shaking your head, "You're right, you didn't ask. I shouldn't have assumed that you..."
You trail off while you flick the lights on in the kitchen, leaning forward to gently blow out the taper candles. Your hand swishes away the smoke and soot, pushing out out of the cracked kitchen window before the smoke detector catches it. The cabinets creak while you take out some Tupperware from the top shelves, the good stuff that the ladies in the park sold Wayne back in the 70s. They click and clack as the bowls and trays and their tops hit the formica counter top.
"Well--well, wait -- you don't have to pack it up, babe," he says, sitting up a little taller in the chair. When he hears the shudder in your breath he stands, "You don't have to put it away."
"No, it's fine," you assure, a small strain coming through from your chest, "It'll be like -- you'll be so excited when you get home and there's all this food. I just gotta call the guys and tell them to just go to the bar instead of coming here."
"Whaddayou mean, coming here?"
You turn around, eyes wet now but not crying, a tug on your brow and taughtness in your jaw from where you try to hold it back.
"It was supposed to be a surprise," you shrug, "But like, it's not important. Lemme just pack this up and I'll get it figured out."
"What's the surprise?" he asks, tilting his head to get a better look at you.
"Well I..." you let out another breath, lower lip wobbling; an action your stop with a sharp inhale through the nose.
"Well I thought it would be fun if the guys came over and did a birthday oneshot campaign with you. I helped Gare and Jeff write it and Jeff was gonna DM," you let out in one breath, "And it was gonna be like, a silly drinking game version."
"You were gonna play?" he asks meekly. You nod. You rarely play, always watch. Always make snacks or help him clean up the trailer, always order the pizza because Eddie forgets to. Always add extra mushrooms on one because Richie likes extra mushrooms. Always make sure to get one with white sauce cause red cause doesn't sit great with Dustin.
"Did a, um, did a character sheet and whatever," you say, defeated, while you open the utensil drawer to pull out an extra pair of tongs and a serving spoon, "Drew her -- it's in your card."
You start to pack up the food and the tears start up again, welling in your eyes but still not spilling over. Eddie steps forward, getting between you and the pots and pans on the stove.
"Hey, wait," his voice bare audible, "Babe, don't."
"It's okay," you sniffle, "I just have to call them."
"No -- baby, stop," there's an edge now, ring hand falling on your wrist, "Stop packing it up."
"It's fine--"
A waltz between you, him, and the tupperware on the counter.
"Don't make me..." he huffs, trying to maneuver the tongs out of your hand, "If you don't stop, we're gonna have a pr--"
"Ed, enough! We will go to the bar, it's fine," you urge, anxiety heightening in your chest where it bursts, you start to cry, "Please, let me put it away. It's fine. I just -- fuck --"
"I feel like such an asshole," you sigh, breaking. You relent, letting go of the tongs where he takes them and leaves them between the burners on the yellowed stove.
"Don't be like that, you're not," he soothes, closing in on you against the counters edge, "You're not, I'm sorry."
"I really just wanted your birthday to be special," you weakly murmur, wiping at your eyes.
"You know how I get," he says, rough hands coming up to cup your face where he leaves a soft kiss to your cheek, "M'just not great at bein' fussed over."
"You deserve to be fussed over, doofus," you garble out, his thumbs replacing your fingers to catch the tears as they fall.
"It's hard, babe," he nods, "You knows it's hard for me. Y'know with my mom's stuff gone and my dad being...who fuckin' -- who fuckin' knows. The Hideout just makes sense. That's y'know -- that's what I deserve."
"That's not even true," you shake your head, "Don't be stupid."
"Well, I barely graduated so," he offers you a peck to each salty, wet cheek, "Stupid's my middle name."
"Don't cry, sweetheart," he breathes, leaning in with a slow kiss. A kiss drenched in apologies and thank yous, breaks away just to kiss again. And again, and again, and again until you're both breathless under the sickly yellow green glow of the overhead kitchen light.
"How about I change into something nicer than this, and we'll pop these plates in the microwave and start over," he asks, a smile toying on his full lips, "'Kay?"
You nod back, getting another peck stolen from you, and following him down the hall.
"Oh, yes, yes, allow me to slip into something more..." he announces with flourish, posing half sexily half awkwardly in the doorway to his bedroom, "Uncomfortable."
You snort, giggling while you follow in after him, settling on the end of his bed, "You don't have to dress up fancy."
"'Course I do," he tsks, brows furrowing, "M'going to a five star restaurant doll, I can't look like a slob."
He pulls out a pair of slacks from a funeral he went to two years ago, discarding his jeans and sliding them up over his pale legs. To your dismay, he plucks the t-shirt with a screen print of a tux out of his closet, and exchanges the worn Dio tee with that. You'll always prefer the Dio tee.
"Classy," you tease. He winks, and that's enough to make you okay with the tux shirt. His fingers trail over the stack of presents and land on the envelope.
"Can I open the card?"
"Sure."
"Am I gonna cry over it?" he asks, looking at you over the dull paper when he flicks open the top.
You shake your head, "Nah, it's not sappy. You're the sappy card writer."
"I'm so sappy," he agrees, pulling out the card, "I gotta work on that, huh?"
"No, I like when you're sappy, ya sap."
You watch him read the card, blush evident in the warm wash of gold from his bedside lamp. You're not a sappy card writer, but you always know how to make him feel like a kid with a crush. When he opens up your character sheet his bottom lip tucks between his teeth.
"Shit," he grins, "Rogue tiefling, huh? You tryna kill me?"
"I thought it could be fun," you titter, standing up to look at the pages next to him, "Chaotic evil. Look at me."
"Ugh, baby's first villain," he gushes, "I love it."
"Look at the picture," you bounce on the balls of your feet while he goes to the next page. A much quieter 'shit' falls from his mouth. It was not a drawing that was for the rest of the guys to see, a sketch of a tiefling version of you in an outfit meant for his eyes only.
"So you are trying to kill me," he asks, fingers tracing the curve of 'your' hip on the page where the outfit digs into the fat of 'your' hips.
"No, that'll be later," you smirk.
"Hm?' his brows raise.
"What do you think is in the Frederick's bag?" you ask, faux innocence smattering into your tone.
"Ah, you put a little costume together for me?" Eddie's mouth waters at the thought, brain fuzzy as he looks at the picture and then at you.
"Something like that," you tease, making your way back out into the hallway.
"Something like that?!" he repeats back, hurrying back out to pull you into a searing kiss before you can make it back into the kitchen. The kind from the movies where he dips you down toward the faded carpet. As he pulls away, he nuzzles your nose against his, staring at you through lowered lids, "Thank you."
"You're very welcome," you nod, both of you making it back to full height, "Happy birthday."
You relight the candles on the table and nuke the plates of food, topping off each others plastic flutes with the left over Prosecco. There's three cases of beer in the fridge and you know Gareth is bringing Absinthe and it's something you pray doesn't mess your boyfriend up too much.
Dinner is the best meal Eddie's had in years, unable to keep his eyes off of you in between bites while you rehash your day and him, his. You're picking up the dishes off the table when the boys show up and they deliver. Taking the heat off you, they provide the snacks and even more extra booze. Jeff passes out party hats that make you all look ridiculous -- Eddie can remember laughing this much on his birthday, not even when he was a kid. Not even when his mama was alive.
After the oneshot completes and everyone is ankles deep in a tipsy haze and the smoke from a few joints lingers in the air, you walk in with the cake that is finally frosted -- the 2 and 5 confetti colored candles dancing in front of him while the rest sparkle in the middle of the coffee table. He makes one thousand wishes that he knows will come true because his friends are all still there with him and so are you. You're one room right over, cutting the cake and plating it up, and you'll be there when the boys leave in your skimpy nerdy costume that you bought just for him. And you'll be there while he sleeps and you'll be there when he wakes up. You'll be there across from him the next morning when he feeds you fries dipped in chocolate shake at the diner.
Today is Eddie Munson's birthday.
And his mother's buttercream frosting is the sweetest it's ever tasted.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfiction#the boy is mine challenge#eddie munson x y/n
529 notes
·
View notes
Note
LEAH may I humbly request Eddie and best friend!Reader play wrestling and Reader pins him to the ground and boom ✨making out✨?
xoxo @munson-blurbs 💚
my requests are ALWAYS open for you, bug.
“I just don’t know where Carver gets off being such a dick to everyone,” Eddie scoffs. “I’d love to teach him a lesson, kick his stupid teeth in.”
You giggle. It’s not really a laughing matter, but you giggle.
Eddie cocks an eyebrow, giving you a sideways glance as he unlocks the door to the trailer. “What’s so funny, sweetheart?”
He toes off his sneakers in the entryway, awaiting your answer as you take your time untying your own, trying to avoid the answer.
“Listen, you know you’re my best friend, right? Okay?” you start, peaking Eddie’s curiosity even more. “I’m not saying you couldn’t kick Carver’s ass, but…. I don’t know! I just don’t view you as particularly ‘tough’,” you say, shrugging your shoulders as you walk over to the couch.
Eddie just looks at you, eyebrows hidden under his bangs as he lifts them.
“Don’t get offended! You just… you’re always so gentle around me,” you quickly add, attempting to soften the blow to his ego.
“Oh no, sweetheart, I think you’ve made it verryyyy clear that I can’t throw a punch,” Eddie replies, holding his hands up. “I get it, really,” he sighs dramatically, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Don’t start,” you laugh, pointing a finger at him.
“I suppose you could take me then? You could kick my ass?” he goes on, gesturing towards himself with one hand.
“I could absolutely take you in a fight. You wouldn’t dare throw a punch at me,” you say matter-of-factly, and of course you’re correct.
“Okay, sure. You could take me,” he says, too compliant to be believable. He slowly steps towards the couch, drawing out his movements. You eye him suspiciously as he sits down on the opposite end of the furniture. “But could you fight back against… the tickle monster?”
And in one swift movement, before you can even comprehend, he’s right beside you, hands reaching for your sides as his fingers hit your most ticklish spot.
“No! Eddie!!” you squeal, laughing against your own will, body coiling into itself as he relentlessly attacks you.
You feel like you can’t catch your breath, laughter roaring through you as tears spring to your eyes. He’s stronger than you, keeping you curled beneath him, fingers digging into your sides. He laughs along with you, and the sound infiltrates your ears, making your heart strum a tune. If your stomach wasn’t hurting from laughter, you wouldn’t want him to stop. Wouldn’t want him to get any farther away.
There’s a brief moment where he eases up, if you’d blinked you’d have missed it, but luckily you didn’t. You see your opportunity, shoving him off of you with your hands, making a break for it as you pounce off of the sofa.
He’s quicker, though, recovering from your shove and lunging after you, picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder.
“You dare think you can outsmart me!?” he roars, putting on his best monster voice.
You kick and flail, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt as you pound on his back to let you go. If you think too long about the way he’s holding onto you you’re sure to melt. He walks you into his bedroom, throwing you down on his fluffy mattress before completely pinning you there, triumphant.
“You’re not trying very hard, sweet girl,” he teases, smirking at the way you struggle to free your wrists from his grip.
“Shut up,” you mumble, scrunching up your face when Eddie’s hair tickles your nose.
You wrestle out of his grasp finally, thrashing around in an attempt to move him from where he hovers above you. You manage to topple him over, newfound strength taking over as you pin him down, pressing his shoulders against the mattress. You sling a leg over his lap, straddling him and keeping him in place.
He’s wide-eyed at your sudden burst of ferocity, mouth parted just slightly as he catches his breath.
“See? Told you I could kick your ass,” you say, smug and confident.
Eddie doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you — those big eyes staring through to your soul. Your breath catches in your throat, then, becoming all too aware of the position that you’re in. It feels like you sit there staring at each other for eons, listening to the clock tick from his bedside table.
Then, he moves his hands. Slowly, tentatively, letting them rest on your hips. Holding you where you are, not wanting you to move.
“Eddie—” you start, your voice failing you, coming out incredibly breathy.
“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, getting the words out quickly, as if they were begging to be let loose.
“Yeah,” you nod.
He’s pulling your face down, then, and you follow his guidance. Your lips collide against his, his tongue immediately parting them for entrance. There’s no room to be timid, not with the way he kisses you like it’s his dying wish. Your heart pounds in your chest, because you’re kissing your best friend. Does he know how badly you’ve wanted this? Has he felt the same this entire time?
Clearly he has, with the way he whimpers into you when your tongue starts to explore his mouth. His hands don’t let go of your cheeks, big palms encompassing your soft skin, thumbs rubbing softly against your cheekbones. And suddenly you feel like you can’t be close enough to him, like your chest being pressed to his and your tongues in each others’ throats simply isn’t enough and you need to crawl inside of his skin and reside there.
You pull away all too soon, just slightly, reluctantly. He still holds your face, wanting to pull you right back to him, his eyes searching yours. So impossibly beautiful.
“You keep kissing me like that, and I won’t tell a soul that I totally just kicked your ass,” you tease, making him snort, his kiss-bitten lips mere millimeters from your own.
Another firm kiss to your mouth, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip until a breathy moan releases from you. “Okay, deal.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson blurb#leah’s got mail 💌#bug 🐛
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Your Pretend Boyfriend
paring ✦ Eddie Munson x reader
summary ✦ You back from college, visiting during thanksgiving break. Jason Carver has always liked you the feelings not mutual. So when you catch him harassing Eddie you pretend to be his girlfriend. What happens with your pretend boyfriend? CONTAINS SMUT
word count ✦ 3,200ish
authors note ✦ BRO I’m almost to 300 followers and 5000+ likes omg y’all are tooooo sweeet to me hope y’all enjoy this
masterlist ✦ PART TWO
FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!
⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹
The sound of your someone calling for you takes your gaze away from your phone. Looking up expecting to see your best friend. The two of you had plans to meet at this restaurant to catch up. You were in town visiting during thanksgiving break.
To your dissatisfaction it’s none other than Jason Carver. You groan annoyed knowing where this was headed. You’re parents were close and they always rooted for the two of you to end up together. Not a single part of you wanted anything to do with him. He was a few years younger than you. Also the worst human being on planet earth.
“You visiting for break?” He smiles leaning on the wall where you’re standing.
“Yup.” You say with no emotions, giving your full attention on your phone. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving him any attention.
“What brings you here?”
“Meeting someone.” You answer eyes still on your phone, scrolling on something random. Pretending to be busy.
“Who?” He ask curiously.
“Can we skip to the part where you say something nasty, I tell you to fuck off and then you leave me alone?” You spit out, disregarding his previous question.
“We should hookup while your in town, give you some good ol dickin’ down. I’m sure those college boys can’t fuck you like I would.” There it is.
“For the millionth time that will never happen.” You respond, desperately waiting for your friend to arrive.
“Sheesh have you’ve always been such a bitch?” He laughs. When you don’t respond Jason walks off deflated.
You pray that is the end of that. Only for him to find his next victim. A curly headed boy you definitely remember, Eddie. It’d be hard to forget someone like him. Jason hated him, for whatever reason which made you gravitate towards him. You two were never all that close only exchanging hellos in the hallways. Occasionally bonding over your hatred of Jason. More than once telling Jason to leave their group alone.
Just as your deep in thought, thinking about Munson your phone dings. It’s the friend you were waiting for, she’s canceling on you. Her two year olds sick and can’t make it. You sigh out loud annoyed but understanding, typing a quick response.
You’re attention goes back to Eddie and Jason. Eddie was sat by himself, probably waiting for someone. Jason is giving him shit for being at a restaurant all by himself. It crosses your mind for a second and before you can realize how bad this idea is your on your way to Eddie’s table.
“Hey babe,” You smile greeting Eddie, confusion immediately spreads across his face. You mouth ‘just go along with it’ as you sit down next to him, careful so Jason doesn’t see. You plant a small kiss on his cheek, his confusion turns to a grin.
“Hey princess,” His arm slings around your shoulder. The pet name sends a heat through your body, you quickly push that away. You look up to Jason who’s slack-jawed.
“There’s no fucking way.” He whines.
“What?” You ask playing dumb.
“There’s no fucking way you two are dating.” Jason responds.
“We’ve been dating for six months, right babe?” You ask nuzzling yourself deeper into Eddie’s embrace.
“Almost seven.” He smiles, proudly.
“We actually have you to thank for that. Bumped into each other, bonded over our dislike for you. Been inseparable since.” You laugh because Jason looks pissed making this so worth it. He goes to speak but can’t get anything out, obviously frustrated.
“We’re gonna have a quick little lunch. Then head back to his place so he can give a good ol dickn’ down. That’s what you called it right?” You watch as Jason’s eyes go wide, full of pure disgust before running out of the restaurant. Once he’s out of hearing range you start erupting out in laughter, Eddie joining you.
“That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so speechless.” Eddie talks catching his breath from laughing so hard.
“I can’t stand him. He’s been up my ass for as long as I can remember. Saw the opportunity and took it.” You respond, looking over to Eddie’s who’s arm still rests on your shoulder. He notices you noticing and pulls away.
“You don’t have an actual girlfriend right? Otherwise this’d be kinda awkward.” You ask.
“Yeah actually I do.” Unknowingly your face falls, upset that he does.
“We met six months ago been inseparable since.” He teases, you roll your eyes realizing what he means. A silence falls over you two and you can’t help but feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome.
“I’ll leave you be. Thanks for participating in my antics.” You smile standing up from the table.
“I just got myself a girlfriend I ain’t letting you so quick.” You turn to face Eddie.
“We’ve been dating for all of five minutes and it’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.” He smiles, motioning for you to sit back down. Your intrigued so you sit down, this time on the other side of the booth.
“Are you sure? Someone’s not gonna show up and be upset I’m here?” You ask, seriously not wanting to impose.
“Don’t worry about it. Plans canceled.” He shoots you a smile before pulling his phone out, typing away for a moment.
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“Hang out with my beautiful older college girlfriend? Whom I only see during school breaks. Or hangout with my friends I see everyday at school? Uhhhh I think I’ll choose my girlfriend.” His words bring a cheesy grin to your lips.
“Okay I guess I can stay and enjoy lunch with my boyfriend.” You sigh, pretending like it’s an inconvenience for you. In reality your happy, your plans fell through and now your sat across from a long haired tatted hottie.
“How old are you? Not trying to catch a case.” You tease almost positive he’s of legal age. Better safe then sorry.
“19.” He responds between laughing at your joke.
—
Lunch with Eddie was amazing, part of you grateful your friend canceled on you last minute. You feel an instant connection, not wanting the date to end quite yet. The two of you are walking out of the restaurant, hand in hand. Your brain scrambling for an excuse to prolong this date.
“So what was that comment you made about a good ol dickin’ down about?” Eddie asks and almost immediately it’s like a light bulb goes off your head.
“Jason’s been trying to make the moves on me since forever. Just before I joined my boyfriend our date he offered to do that me.” You laugh, you’re not sure where you two are headed just following Eddie’s lead.
“You and Jason, you never?”
“Never ever.”
“That’s crazy. I remember rumors went around about the two of you dating all the time.” He says, processing this new information. Jason Carver wanted you yet you were her with Eddie. He was excited by that thought but at the same time puzzled.
“Started by him. He made my high school experience hell.” You admit.
“Same here.” He sighs, you two reaching his van. Realizing this is where the date either continues or ends.
“Should we keep our story going?” You ask. Noticing Jason sat in his car with his friends, he’s watching the two of you. If he wants to watch, you’d give him a show. Mostly for own selfish desires.
“What?” He asks so you nod in the direction of Jason car full of jocks, watching Eddie’s gaze move from you to them.
“I told Jason we’d have a little lunch and then go your place where’d you give me a good ol dickin’ down.” You cringe at the usage of Jason’s phrase. Eddie’s attention whips back to you because of the words coming from your mouth.
“Gotta make it believable, right?”
“Yeah.” He says. Eddie is hesitant not because he doesn’t want to but because he can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic. You push him towards his van, his back hitting it makes a loud thud. If they weren’t looking they are now.
You get closer, closing the gap between you two. Reaching for his hair, running your fingers through it. You had been wanting to do this since you sat at his table. Wishing he’d call you princess again.
“Is this okay?” You ask to which Eddie nods eagerly. Without missing a beat you kiss him. Softly at first, testing the waters. Eddie melts into your touch, his hand reaching around sliding his hands in your butt pockets. He pulls you closer into him, squeezing your ass in the process. Causing you to let out a little gasp surprised by his bravery. He smiles mid kiss only making you want more. The kisses becoming more aggressive, the wetness starting to pool in your panties.
“Get a fucking room, freaks!” Jason yells and then the sound of tires screeching past you two startles you momentarily. You pull away, grinning. Eddie’s eyes are closed, the biggest smile on his face.
“Still don’t think it’s believable enough.” You say, sighing your tone suggestive.
“Really?” Eddie asks, sounding confused.
You roll your eyes, “Your beautiful older college girlfriend wants a good ol dickn’ down.”
“You.. want me to-” He stutters, stopping before you finish for him.
“I want you to fuck me.” His dick twitches in his jeans because of the six words that came out of your mouth.
“Do you want that?” You ask.
“Yes.” He gulps, excited for what’s coming. Hopefully him soon. He opens the car door for you, you climb inside disregarding the fact that you drove yourself here. Your horny brain fogging your mind deciding in the moment you’d figure it out later.
This wasn’t like you, you never hooked up with someone so shortly after getting to know them. You couldn’t help but feel like something about this situation was different. Eddie was different, like a good different.
It’s a very short but also painfully long drive to his home. Eddie’s never been so thankful for his uncle to be out of town, couldn’t of picked a better time to leave him home alone. The drive is mostly silent, filled with music and stealing glances at each other.
As soon as Eddie parks at his home he’s out of the car running to your door, letting you out. He grabs your hand leading you to the front door. Where he struggles for a few moments to find the right key. Once inside, he shuts the door behind you before facing you. His hands press firmly on your ass to lift you, your legs straddling his body. This time he’s the one to initiate the kiss, carrying you to wherever. You didn’t care as long as Eddie was there.
For a moment your startled when he drops you on his bed. Your allowed a quick glance around his room, taking it in before you look up to see Eddie. He’s shirtless now and his shoes are missing. So you follows in his steps ripping your shoes off. When you go to take your shirt off he stops you with a intense kiss before doing it himself, then unhooks you bra exposing your bare chest.
He pulls away to take in the view, “Fuck you’re beautiful.”
Eddie smashes his lips on yours pushing you back into the bed before kissing down you neck only to stop at your nipple. The sensation is enough for you to let out a sweet moan slightly arching you back into him. Mouth still attached to you while his hands are busy unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down quickly along with your panties.
You curse your self for not wearing something sexier but you had no idea this where’d you be today. Part of you embarrassed you haven’t shaved in a while. Your worries are immediately put at ease when he spreads your thighs, letting his head rest between them.
“Beautiful.” Her murmurs before placing a sugary kiss on your clit, sending a shockwave through your body. His tongue begins rubbing against your bud. Without thinking your hands find his hair, pushing him deeper between your folds. Your head falls back, moans leaving you lips. When you think it can’t get any better, he slips a long strong finger in your pussy. Pumping into you the same pace as his tongue that is still toying with your clit.
“More please-“ You whine and Eddie listens adding another finger, stretching you out. Your a mess under his touch. Never once has a man prioritized your pleasure. You’ve become masterful at giving yourself orgasms. The feeling of it being at the hands of someone else unfamiliar. A good unfamiliarity.
“Fuckk- Eddie I’m..” Your words turn into strangled moans, a tightness growing in your stomach. Your breath hitches as you pulsate on his thick fingers, your eyes rolling back as you come undone. Your busy riding out your high but the feeling of his fingers leaving you brings you back down to reality. His laps up your juices one last time before speaking.
“Mm so sweet.” Eddie purrs sucking on his own two fingers that were covered in your juices. They leave his mouth with a popping sound as he sits up in the bed.
“My turn.” You say barley audible sitting up reaching for the button on his jeans. Wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around his cock. He stops your hands causing you to look up to Eddie, you cant help but pout.
“I don’t think I’ll last long with your pretty lips sucking me off right now. Next time, okay?” You nod smiling at the thought there’d be a next time. Eddie kisses you pushing your head back onto the bed. Only pulling away to pull his pants off and grab a condom from his bed side table. You watch intently as his pulls down his boxers, revealing his cock. You let out a gasp as it hits his stomach, never once had you seen one this big. Eddie smiles at your reaction while unwrapping the condom. Slowly rolling it over the tip of his dick and down the entirety of his hard length.
Eddie gets back on top of you, spreading your legs. He lets the tip rest on you swollen clit before dragging it down to your hole. Slowly, inch by inch you adjust to his size. He bottoms out, you let out a whimper because you’ve never felt fuller. He uses his hands to lift your thighs up so he can get better angle before starting a slow motion. Pumping in and out of you at a painfully slow pace, only making you desperate for him to pick up the pace.
He leans down to your level, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Your chest being flattened by his. One hand rests at the back of his neck, tightening in his hair and the other hands digs into his back as he bucks his hip harder into you. He’s thrusting harder but you desperately need him faster.
“Faster- please.” You say and it comes out as a whine. You get exactly what you want because he pushed up so he can see you before recklessly pounding into you cunt faster than before. He guides your hands so you can hold your own legs up, using his free hand to find your clit running circles around it sloppily.
“How does that feel princess?” He grunts between thrusts, his finger still playing with your bud. You can’t help but smile at the pet name. He finally said it again. When you don’t respond he rocks his hips harder and you start feeling that tightening in your stomach again.
“Fuck.” You cry out, knowing you’re about to cum for the second time. The sensation of your pussy throbbing on his cock as you get closer to finishing nearly sends him over the edge but he’s determined to make you cum again. His fingers work more tactically on your clit which is just enough to have you gushing on his dick.
“Good girl.” He groans. Not even a second later he’s cumming inside the condom, inside you. Suddenly wishing that thin little layer of latex wasn’t there so you could feel his seed coat your inner walls. He kisses you sweetly one last time before pulling out and falling next to you. His chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. You rest on his chest, listening to his heart beat.
“Was that believable?” He asks, out of breath.
“What?” You ask confused to drunk on dick to comprehend.
“Was that a good ol dickin’ down?” He laughs. You roll your eyes before nodding your head, yes.
—
The next two weeks we’re spent under and on top of Eddie Munson any chance you got. Dreading the fact that when break came to an end you’d have to head back to school. It was a three hour drive from Hakwins. You just got Eddie and couldn’t imagine having to let go so soon.
Eddie was so grateful Wayne left for the two weeks during thanksgiving break. He had a whole two weeks of uninterrupted time with you. He tried hard no to think about the fact you’d be leaving him in a short time. If he thought about it too much he’d upset himself, usually pushing the thoughts away focusing on the time he did have with you. So to say he was surprised when you invited him to have thanksgiving dinner with your family would be an understatement.
When you found out Eddie would be spending thanksgiving day alone you didn’t hesitate to invite him. Your heart felt for him when he admitted he never really celebrated holidays with Wayne always working. You were determined to make it perfect.
Explaining to you parents why this random dude was coming over on thanksgiving dinner was the hardest part. Only for Eddie to introduce him self as your boyfriend of seven months. They look at you like ‘what the fuck’ to which only caused you to laugh. Cursing yourself for not get your stories straight. More than happy to continue the bit but wished you could of prepared better.
“So how’d you two meet them?” Your father asks curiously. You both say different answers. You blurt out high school and he says you two met at a restaurant.
“We’ll we went to high school together, knew of each other. Ran into each other at Danny’s Dinner and hit it off.” You explain further, their faces telling that they don’t believe anything coming out of your mouth. They never question any further, thankfully.
—
Todays the dreaded day. The day you leave for college. You had already said your goodbyes to your family. Deciding what time you had left would be spent with Eddie. The two of you had just finished fucking for possibly the last time. Your brain had been heavily worried about what would happen when you left. It’s now or never, you need to ask him.
“I’m gonna miss you.” Eddie sighs. You sit up to face him, he’s laid in bed looking at the roof.
“I’ll miss you too. What are we doing?” You ask, trying to read his reaction. He looks at you with a smile.
“I don’t know about you but I’ve been faithfully committed to you for the last seven months.” He teases.
“I’m being serious Eddie.” You groan.
“Me too, princess.”
“So we are-?” You start to ask and he interrupts.
“Yes we are. Your all mine.” He kisses you.
“All yours.” You melt into his kiss, fucking one more time.
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson pov#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie imagine#eddie x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie stranger things#eddie x y/n#eddie x you#eddie smut#smut#stranger things#stranger things smut#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
ʙᴏᴏ? - ᴇ.ᴍ
pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader
synopsis| It was supposed to be a joke, payback, revenge, until it spiraled completely out of control. Just your luck.
an| inspired by the prompt "I hid in your closet to scare you as a joke but when you came in you started masturbating and I can't just get up and leave but if I get caught in your closet you'll think I'm a pervert I regret my life choices" from here. my brainrot is thriving.
warnings| 3k, masturbating (m), reader being a perv obvi, illusions to sex, 18+ folks
part 2
It escalated quickly; too quickly to even process what you were doing, and what you were doing wasn’t even a good idea to begin with, but it was the only thing you could think of.
The Hellfire Club was currently in the midst of a rather heated prank war, started of course by their relentless leader himself, and you had slowly been dragged into the cruel web he had begun to weave three weeks ago.
It was annoying at first, Eddie jump scaring you every chance he could. Jumping out from behind the cafeteria doors, slamming his hand against the locker next to yours while you were in deep thought digging through your own locker, or four days ago when he hid in the backseat of your car only to reveal himself once you’d hit five over the speed limit on the main road home; you almost crashed your car that day because of him.
He was a menace and although the other guys had it much worse than you, Eddie seemed to take more pleasure from simply spooking you. But at least it wasn’t shaving cream in your book bag like poor Gareth or when he stole the chains off Mike and Dustin’s bikes before school ended leaving them stranded -although he did give them a ride home after they got down and praised King Eddie- in hindsight you were getting off pretty easy in comparison.
But still, that last prank got to you, the seriousness of almost wrecking had scared you shitless. Enough that you had to pull over on the side of the road, trying not to break down in front of him. He had felt bad, you could see it on his face as he tumbled into the front seat and begged you to not cry, but you were just so mad you kicked him out of your car and drove off.
That’s how your little plan came to fruition. You skipped your last period just to make sure you’d beat him to his cozy little trailer on the outskirts of town, greeting his uncle Wayne as you ducked under his arm and into the living room.
“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?” He asked, blue eyes narrowed in amusement.
“Gonna scare the shit outta your devious little shit of a nephew.” You say simply as you fill a glass with cold water from the tap.
Wayne catches the wild glint in your eye, the mirror image of the one his nephew harbors in his own big brown ones. The older man could only shake his head, muted blue eyes dancing with amusement as he said..
“Give him hell, dollface.” Before he’s headed down the porch steps to his beat up Chevy truck.
Which brings you to right now, stuffed tight in Eddie’s messy closet, the fake fur of his creepy Alf costume tickling the back of your neck, your heart thudding loudly in your chest when you finally hear the loud wail of metal and the screeching of tires against gravel.
There isn’t much to your plan here other than jump out and make him scream. Make him regret fucking with you so hard the past three weeks. You’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since you both almost died -he’s lucky you had just got your brakes changed, a week earlier and you both would have been seriously hurt- which meant he wouldn’t be expecting your revenge, instead thinking you were still pissed. Which you kinda were, but he didn’t make it easy. He’d been groveling nonstop since it happened, bringing you little presents in hopes you’d forgive him, and you had but you still wanted revenge.
You hear him as he bounds up the steps, humming to himself, he slings the front door open followed by the sound of the lock clicking in place. Your fingers tremble in anticipation, adrenaline bleeding heavily from your pores. It’s unbearably stuffy in his little closet, sweat beading on your forehead and between your breasts, and the only light comes from a crack in the sliding door giving you a full view of his mirror. You can see him in its reflection, coming down the hall with his wild hair bouncing around his shoulders, eyes locked onto the cassette in his hands.
He enters his cramped bedroom and goes straight to his tape deck, the pink tip of his tongue trapped between plush lips as he stuffs the tape in and hits play, surprisingly turning the sound to a reasonable volume. As the music softly spills from the speakers he shrugs out of his denim vest and jacket combo, pulling his black tattered Iron Maiden shirt with the sleeves haphazardly cut off over his head. As he tosses it to the floor, the lyrics of the song he’s skipped to floods your ears. You know this song, love this song, fuck, you showed him this song. He’s humming along to it as he kicks off his sneakers, shimmies out of his black ripped jeans, calloused fingertips gliding gently down his soft tummy into the waistband of his boxers.
Okay, what the fuck. You clamp your eyes shut before you can see too much. This is absolutely, positively, not part of your plan. His bed springs groan as the lyrics echo around his room and you sit in his closet with your hands over your eyes trying not to breathe too loud.
Let's get away, just for one day,
Let me see you stripped down to the bone.
It was your Depeche Mode cassette, the one you’d lost a couple weeks ago and tore your room and car apart in a frenzy to find. You never did and now you know why; because you dear friend Eddie had stolen it.
Fuck this, you think to yourself as you raise off your feet in the cramped space. You’re about to bust out, ask him why he sat there and listened to you whine for days about your missing tape knowing full well he had it, when you hear something that makes your body freeze.
It’s soft, gentle as a breeze, but loud enough to still hear over the song playing from his speakers. A moan, shaky and almost desperate, and you can’t help when you peek out the slit of the door and catch sight of him in the mirror. Your mouth goes dry, eyes so wide they must be bugging out of your head, you’re looking into a mirror except you can’t see yourself, no, but you can see him and the sight is fucking beautiful.
Eddie’s laid out long ways across his bed, bare feet planted on the shag carpet just a couple feet from your hiding spot in the closet, his eyes are closed and his fist is wrapped tightly around the head of his cock.
“O-oh f-fuuck.” He whines, thumb dragging across his weeping slit, smearing the precum that beads there across the red mushroom head of his rather thick cock. Jesus, you had shamefully imagined what he was packing under those tight pants he always wore, usually alone at night in your bed, but never did you think you’d actually see it. Especially not like this.
Oh, this is wrong, so fucking wrong. You shouldn’t be here right now watching him thrust up slowly into his cock, shouldn’t lick your lips as he roams his hands over his bare chest, his fingers tweaking a nipple making his cock visibly twitch at the sensation. You shouldn’t be wet between your legs, squeezing your thighs together as best you can without moving much or making any noise. This is perverted, sick and twisted, a complete violation of Eddie’s privacy, but what are you supposed to do? You should have jumped out as soon as he came in, should have stopped him as soon as he got his shirt off, but instead you stayed frozen in place among Eddie’s clothes and now it was too late. You couldn’t just cover your eyes and leave, no that’d be horrifying for the both of you. Which left only one option; wait for him to finish and hope to a God you weren’t sure you believed in that he leaves right after.
But that’s also a problem because you can’t not hear the pretty moans that fall from his lips. Can’t ignore the way the bed frame creaks as his hips pick up a steady pace. Can’t stop looking into that stupid fucking mirror and biting your lip at the sight of him completely lost in his pleasure.
You are so going to hell.
“Oh, fuck, baby. J-just like that.”
Your pussy floods at just the mere sound of his voice, clouded with lust and his impending orgasm. You can see how close he is, his tummy flexing hard as his hand fucks his cock faster. He isn’t gentle with himself, not like before, fucking his fist with fast sloppy thrusts of his hips as he presses his head back into his ruffled sheets. You can’t peel your eyes from him, can’t stop the constant squeeze of your thighs as your body begs for some kind of friction. And you definitely can’t stop the looming thought that if you get caught Eddie will probably never talk to you again.
You wouldn’t blame him.
There’s a new song playing but you can’t really hear it, aren’t even paying attention, not when Eddie shifts up to lean on one elbow to watch himself work. He gasps at a rather rough flick of his wrist, biting his lip as his eyes flutter closed, his long black lashes dancing across his pale skin. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, watching intently through the mirror.
You watched porn before but this, this was better than anything you’ve ever seen, and if you weren’t such a coward -and if you weren’t hiding in his fucking closet- you’d fall to your knees in front of him. Beg him to come all over your face, down your throat, in your tight pussy. You’d find your filthiest words, bat your eyes all innocent, drag your nails over his hairy thighs, just to see him cum. To watch his face scrunch up and mouth fall slack as he painted you all pretty in his hot seed.
Yeah, if you didn’t get caught -and probably still if you did- you were so using the sight of your best friend fucking his fist to get off later.
Maybe you were a pervert after all.
Eddie’s moans are getting louder, hot breathy noises falling from his bitten lips, he’s visibly having a hard time keeping his eyes open, obviously lost in whatever scenario he is conjuring up behind his eyes. Your hands were gripping the fabric of your skirt as tight as you can, trying your best to restrain from shoving your hand underneath and thrusting your finger deep inside your tight, wanting, hole. His fingers would feel so much better, long and thin, you know they must be talented considering how good he is with a guitar. All this thinking has your chest heaving, hands shaking, breathing slowly in and out of your nose. You can feel your willpower slipping away, gone without a trace, you need him to hurry up. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to handle this much longer.
But then Eddie says something so out of left field, so far from anything you’ve ever heard come from his mouth, that your brain completely malfunctions.
“Just like that, y/n. I wanna be inside you so bad, baby.” It’s all a tangled whine, your name a quivered pant, and you gasp so loudly you make yourself jump, backing up deep into his closet as you watch his head spring up.
Silence. Horrible, retched, silence as you cover your mouth with a shaky hand and close your now watery eyes. He heard you, you know it, and now all the heat and blood have left your aching core to wash over the apples of your cheeks. Hot like lava, the embarrassment of being caught doing something so wrong makes your eyes water.
He’s never gonna speak to you again.
There’s a click as the tape deck stops and then the drag of his closet door sliding open and you want to drop dead where you stand.
“Y/n” Eddie asks, all quiet and gravelly, arousal still heavy in his throat. You can’t look at him, can’t dare raise your eyes away from your feet.
“Boo?” Out of all the things you wanted to say, that was the only word to come out, soft as a whisper.
“W-What are you doing?” Good question, you think. What the fuck are you doing?
“It’s not what you think.” You say quickly with a dark humorless chuckle, eyes bouncing to his before you completely fucking regret it and lower them back to the floor. He looks too good right now with his pupils blown wide and a sheen of sweat on his bewildered face. “I was go-gonna get you back for scaring me so much, but then you started…” You gesture your hand in the direction of his cock, braving a quick glimpse before slamming your eyes shut. He’s still naked, standing in front of you with a pillow covering his bare waist, and it’s just too much.
“How much d-did you hear?” He asks softly, shuffling from foot to foot as he scratches the back of his neck. His nervous tick.
“Uhm, well, not… not a lot…” It’s kinda comical how unbelievable you sound and Eddie must think so too because he huffs out a laugh as he backs up to his bed, plopping down on the side of it and adjusting his pillow shield.
“So you heard everything then. Fucking fantastic.” You step out of the closet finally, shuffling quietly against the carpet as you close the door back and face him, hands clasped together in front of your chest.
“Are- Do you hate me now, Eds?” You ask, perturbed, fiddling with the black and red yarn bracelet around your wrist. The same one Eddie wore; a friendship bracelet he’d given to you after the first time you’d hung out one on one.
Eddie seems puzzled by your question, going to stand before he quickly realizes he’s only wearing a pillow. “Wait a second, will ya?” He asks and you nod covering your eyes as if you hadn’t just been watching him jerk off. When he's done, presumably getting dressed, he taps your elbow and when you don’t uncover your face, he grips your forearms softly and guides them away. He offers you a friendly smile when you meet his doe eyes.
“I don’t hate you.” He says softly, the heat of his fingers leave goosebumps on your skin.
“I would.” You mumble, shifting from one foot to the other.
“I thought you were mad at me?” He asks, trying to catch your eye but you’re too busy counting the tears in your worn out converse.
“M not mad. I just wanted to get you back.” You offer and out of the corner of your eye you can see him nod.
“Glad you’re not mad still.” He says and then, “How’d you get in, sweetheart?”
“Wayne let me in, before he left. I skipped last period to get here before you. I swear, Eddie, I only wanted to jump scare you like you’ve been doing to me for the past month, I-I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do when you started..”
“Hey,” He chirps, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, and you try not to think about where that hand just was because if you do you’re gonna start thinking about the sounds he made while it was wrapped tight around his- no stop it.
Even in the middle of the most embarrassing conversation you’ve ever had, your thoughts betray you with images of his hot, rock hard, cock.
“It’s no biggie, really. I should have figured something was up, Wayne never leaves the door unlocked.” He’s fucking smiling at you now, a full smile that shows his teeth and crinkles the corners of his eyes and for some reason unknown to you; it really irritates you.
“No biggie?” You cry, pushing him away from you, and his face falls but you can’t handle him being so close to you right now. “You just caught me spying on you while you jerked off, but it’s no biggie?”
“Yeah, no biggie. No big deal.” Eddie draws out his words, hand rolling in the air as he elaborates. “I’m not mad at you. No biggie.”
“Eddie, I feel like such a perv-” You start, eyes still watery with shame, but Eddie cuts you off.
“You literally watched me jerk my dick while thinking about you, I think we’re both falling pretty hard on the pervert line here, sweetheart.”
You look him in the eye, finally, trying to judge if he truly means what he says. You find honesty, and something else you can’t quite decipher, with his gaze locked onto you and you nod and give him an unsteady smile before sinking onto the edge of his bed.
“‘M sorry.” You tell him. “Really.”
Eddie shakes his head, sitting down next to you in only his boxers, and places a hand on your bare knee. That fire surges again, deep in your bones, shooting through you like a bullet at the small contact.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m no worse for wear because of it. Kinda-” He trails off for a moment, reaches back to scratch at his neck again. “Kinda hot thinking about you watching me without me even knowing.”
Oh. Oh.
You really should have figured he’d be into it. Little freak.
“Was kinda hot watching you…” You offer shyly, biting your lip as Eddie beams at you.
“Yeah?” He asks, his nose scrunching up all cutely as his cheeks flush.
“Mhm, you know I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever right?”
“Okay, don’t fuck with me like that.” He warns, umber eyes searching your smiling face.
“Not lying.” It’s simple, matter of fact. Eddie blushes even deeper.
“Well, fuck.” He runs a hand over his face, unable to wipe the cheesy smile from his lips. “I guess I don’t have to tell you I feel the same, huh?”
You laugh at this, leaning your head onto his bare shoulder. “No, I think I got the message in technicolor. You could put the porn industry to shame, Eddie.”
“You’re gonna give me a big head, sweetheart.”
“You already have one, Eddie.” You say, eyes falling to his lap.
Eddie chokes out a laugh in disbelief, shoving you back onto the bed to hover over you.
“You’re a little minx, aren’t you? Who woulda thought.” He teases with his face buried in your neck, lips ghosting across the sensitive skin there.
“Don’t you have Hellfire Club or something, you horn dog?” You ask acerbically and yet you still push your hips up to meet his when he bites down on your jugular.
“Mhm, they can wait. Found something better than playing D&D in a cluttered theater room.” He hums against you, lips following the curve of your jaw with feather light kisses.
“The guys would kill me if I was the reason you didn’t finish the campaign tonight.” You push him back by the shoulders smiling up at him as he watches you giggle at the sight of his bangs lifted up off his forehead.
“I can always just kill them all, they’ll be more mad about that.” He dives back to your neck, sucking and licking every inch of skin he can find, and as much as you want to stay here in his bed and fuck like bunnies; you’d hate to be the reason he was late. So you push him again, harder this time, until he rolls off you with a groan, slamming his fists into the mattress as you stand.
“You know I never got to cum, right? I’m aching right now, need you to help take my pain away, baby.” He’s pouting, lips jutted out, eyes like a puppy, and everything in you is screaming to give in to his guilt trip, help this poor helpless man out.
But that wouldn’t be any fun. So you lean over him, hands on either side of his head, and kiss him slowly. Mold your lips against his, drag your teeth sensually over his bottom lip, give him the most sultry look you can muster. It must work because his whole body shudders under your, desperate hands snaking up your skirt to grab your ass.
“Go to Hellfire, Eddie.” He groans at your words in disappointment, head falling back into his sheets.
“You’re mean.” He whines, slapping his hand firmly onto your ass cheek. You hiss at the pain that ebbs to pleasure and take his jaw in your hand, forcing him to look at you again.
“You didn’t let me finish. Go to Hellfire and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you a helping hand after.” You lean down, tongue grazing the shell of his ear before whispering, “A helping hand, an open mouth, a tight wet pussy.”
Another shiver and his hand gripping tight on the back of your neck pulling you up so you can see his wicked, lopsided, grin.
“That’s not helping my little problem, baby.”
You giggle. “There’s nothing little about your problem, Eds.”
Eddie groans loudly, covering his face with the back of his arm but you’re swatting it away, giggling at his fiery red cheeks. You shower his face with kisses, every inch of rosy skin, until he's pulling you into his chest and caressing the edge of your jaw as he gazes at you with stars in his eyes.
The look in his eyes tells you your friendship is no longer that, instead there's a promise lying in his shimmering irises, something that was always there but you could never figure out the meaning to it. Maybe you were always destined to be more than friends, maybe this crazy -fucking bizarre- series of events was fated. You and Eddie, not as friends but as something more. Maybe the two of you were written in the fucking stars or something.
You’d like to find out.
So you kiss him once more, different than before, savoring the way he follows after your lips, how he cradles your head so tenderly as he kisses you back with the same fervor. Too soon you’re climbing off of him, smoothing out the pleats of your black checkered skirt as he watches with that endearing little pout.
“Lets go, Dungeon Master, the masses await thee.” He takes your outstretched hand, raising to his feet. He looks down at himself, in only his green boxers, and smiles at you all cheekily.
“Think they’d still respect me if I showed up like this?”
You pick his jeans up off the floor and place them in his hands. “Mm, probably not. But I’ll help you get undressed later, like I said, helping hand and all.”
“Fuck, my little minx.”
#if you see me posting this and not updating my other wips no you dont#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#stranger things smut#stranger things fan fic#stranger things x reader#eddie munson
12K notes
·
View notes
Note
Steve having a little sister (who’s like a first-time) senior who has a crush on Eddie. But she’s a cheerleader, her parents expect her to marry an Ivy League, senator’s son or something. She kept her crush a secret until Jason calls him a freak in front of the whole cafeteria- and she punches him.
I had so much fun writing this request! I hope you enjoy what I've come up with, and if you notice the joke I stole from Glee, no you didn't. Reader’s race is not specified and she could be adopted because adoption is a wonderful, amazing thing. Harrington!reader and Eddie 4ever.
Words: 3.1k
“Mr. Munson, late again, I see.”
Mrs. O’Donnell heaves a disappointed sigh as Eddie gives her an over the top smile.
“Sorry, had a meeting with the principal. He wanted to know why you gave me detention again.”
Mrs. O’Donnell frowns. “I didn’t give you detention.”
“Oh, phew,” Eddie says as he slides into his seat. “Glad to hear it. I’ll try and be on time next time.”
The class lets out a titter of laughter as Mrs. O’Donnell rolls her eyes and turns back to the board. The dopey grin is stuck on your face as you lean forward in your seat. Resting your upper body on your desk, you bite your bottom lip as you look Eddie up and down. From your vantage point, you can only see the back left side of him, but you’ll stare at that for the entirety of the class period if you can.
“Miss Harrington?”
Begrudgingly, you tear your gaze away from Eddie’s glorious hair and see Mrs. O’Donnell watching you impatiently.
“Um, yes?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to enlighten us about the Stamp Act?” the elderly woman says.
“Uh…” you trail off, mind suddenly blank of everything that isn’t Eddie Munson. “I would not.”
A few people in the class let out snorts of laughter, but Eddie barks out the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. It makes your stomach fizzle, and your head feel all floaty. Even O’Donnell’s disapproving scowl can’t dampen your giddiness.
The rest of class, you’re riding on a high. You made Eddie laugh. Out of all the accomplishments in your life, you’re not sure if one has ever meant more to you. Making honor roll? Eh. Becoming a cheerleader? So what? Doesn’t compare to making the cutest guy you’ve ever seen laugh.
Okay, you tell yourself. When class is over, you’re going to talk to him. The bell rings, and you’re scrambling to get your things together. Tossing them into your bag, you sling it over your shoulder and follow Eddie out of the classroom.
“H-Hey, Eddie?” you manage.
He turns his head to look over his shoulder and gives you a smile that has your heart stuttering.
“Hey, Harrington. What’s up?”
“Did you see A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2?” you ask, somehow not stumbling over your words. You’d had Steve bring the VHS tape home for you to watch just so you could ask Eddie about it.
“Freddy’s Revenge?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up. “Such a letdown after the first one.”
“Yeah,” you say with a chuckle. “The first one was pretty good. This one made me want to fall asleep.”
“Ironic,” Eddie says with a smirk. He opens the school door for you, and you give him a grateful smile as you step out into the parking lot. You watch as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “See you tomorrow, Harrington.”
“Bye, Eddie.” You’re staring at him as he walks away, and you know you need to stop. But how can you when his ass looks the way it does in his jeans? Once he hops into his van, the trance is broken, and you make your way to your brother waiting in his car at the other end of the parking lot.
You groan as you yank open the car door and slip inside. Steve looks less than thrilled himself, but it has nothing to do with you. Your parents are forcing the two of you to join them at a company party tonight, which both of you are vehemently against. But Steve was tasked with picking you up from school, taking you home so both of you can get ready, then to the party.
“Think I can fake an epileptic seizure and get out of this?” Steve asks on the way home.
“You’re not epileptic,” you say.
“That’s why I said ‘fake’ it,” Steve says with a scoff.
“They’d find a way to make you come anyway,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.
The party is just as horrible as you and your older brother imagined it would be. You’re forced into an itchy blue dress and Steve looks like he’s about two seconds away from ripping his tie off. The stuffy guests walk around with their noses in the air, only deigning to talk to those they deem successful enough. You want to throw yourself out of one of the windows as you see your parents approaching you with an older couple that they’ll probably expect you to remember from somewhere.
“Well, look at you,” the older man says. “All grown up.” The way he says it makes a shiver go down your spine.
“You must have all the boys chasing after you,” his wife says with a wink. It’s like they’re competing to see who can make you the most uncomfortable. Before you can open your mouth to speak, your mom jumps in.
“Oh, we have high hopes for her,” she says with a chuckle. “Going to go to Yale or Stanford and find her an Ivy League man to settle down with.”
And when exactly did we decide this? you think to yourself.
“Someone well-to-do,” your father adds. “A senator’s son, maybe. Who knows? We could be raising a future First Lady here.”
You want to gag. Steve must sense your temper rising, because he rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“Remember us when you’re famous,” the older man says.
I don’t even remember you right now. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your dad changes the subject to something about profit reports.
Steve drives the two of you home before your parents, the two of them insisting they were going to stick around a little longer. The minute you get into your room, you throw your heels towards your closet. Your brother hears you banging around and comes to stand in your doorway, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He’s taken his tie off and undone the first few buttons of his white button up shirt.
“What’s the matter, First Lady? Didn’t like getting signed up for an arranged marriage?”
You whirl on him, practically shoving a finger in his face. “Do not call me that. I am not some prized pig they can sell at the fair.”
“Technically, I think the pigs are judged at the fair, not sold.”
Groaning, you rub your hands down your face.
“I’m running away,” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m joining the circus. Or a motorcycle gang. Anything! As long as it’s not here.”
“Oh, relax,” Steve says. “When you go off to college you can date whoever you want. They’ll never know.”
“Why do I have to wait until I go off to college?” you demand. “Why can’t I date whoever I want right now?”
“Do you want to date someone right now?” Steve asks, furrowing his brows.
“That’s not the point,” you say, but you feel the heat rising to your cheeks.
“Holy shit, you do,” Steve says with a huff of laughter. He pushes himself off the doorframe. “Who is it?”
“Goodnight, Steve.” You shove him out of your doorway before slamming and locking your bedroom door.
“The fuck did you say, Freak?”
Jason Carver’s voice grates on your nerves as you make your way down the hall. Unfortunately, there’s only one person the jock douche would be calling that name and it has you seeing red. You were still steamed from your parents’ comments last night, and this is just going to push you over the top.
“Who, me?”
You walk into the cafeteria to see Eddie grinning at the basketball playing asshole.
“You’re the only freak here,” Jason says.
Your white cheer sneakers squeak to a stop on the linoleum floor, and you drop your bag down by your feet. The clatter has Jason’s gaze shifting to you. Most of the cafeteria’s attention shifts to you, actually. But you don’t notice as you stalk up to the bully. Normally, you might say something snarky to him, but you’re done with words. All your pent up frustration is taken out on Jason’s chin as you serve him a right hook. He stumbles back a few steps and there are gasps around the cafeteria. Your hand is throbbing, but the pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction you feel at shutting that jerk up. The small smear of blood above his upper lip has you smirking.
“Miss Harrington!”
With a groan, your satisfaction wanes when you see Principal Higgins glaring at you. His glasses are perched low on his nose and his hands are high on his hips.
“My office. Now.”
Thankfully, Principal Higgins’s secretary is kind enough to give you some ice to put on your knuckles. Some staffing emergency took precedence, so you’re stuck sitting on a bench outside his office while he deals.
“You’ve got some arm.”
The voice that you’d know anywhere sounds from above you and your neck cracks from how quickly you look up. Eddie stands there with his hands in his pockets, a sheepish smile on his lips.
“Oh. T-Thanks,” you say.
Eddie takes a seat next to you on the bench. He yanks a black bandana out of his back pocket and smooths it out across his lap before folding it lengthwise.
“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the ice you’re holding against your hand.
“Sure.” You extend your injured hand out, and Eddie secures the ice against your knuckles with the bandana, then ties it tight enough to keep everything in place.
“How’s that?” he asks.
“Better. Thank you.” You find it hard to meet his eyes, so you keep your focus on your hand as you bring it back into your lap.
“So,” Eddie says, turning himself sideways on the bench and making himself comfortable. “What made you punch ol’ Carver? I mean, I know we all want to do it, but no one’s been quite so brave. Not until you, that is. And from a cheerleader? One of his own?”
“I’m not one of his own,” you say, looking up at him. But Eddie has a playful smirk on his lips.
“Nah, I know you’re not. I’m just teasing you. But what did want to make you do that? Couldn’t have been all on my account.”
“Why not?” you ask with a frown.
Eddie lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Listen, Harrington. I don’t see you as someone who goes around punching people for the hell of it. You’re one of the nicest people in this hell hole of a town. The jackass must’ve done something to deserve it.”
“He did,” you say. “He called you a freak.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, leaning in towards you with a conspiratorial whisper. “But most people do.”
“Well, they shouldn’t,” you say with a frown. “You’re not. And I hate how Jason always does it in front of a crowd. It’s like he needs to put you down in front of others to prove he’s this king or whatever. So, someone needed to knock him off his throne in front of people, too.”
“My knight in shining cheer skirt,” Eddie teases with a wink. He’s shocked when your face goes red and you’re unable to look him in the eye. “You okay?”
“Y-Yeah,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The heat in your face is getting worse by the second and you feel it’s only a matter of time before you crack.
“You sure? I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”
God, that’s the last thing Eddie could ever make you feel. You immediately shake your head, refusing to let him think those thoughts even for a moment.
“No, no, not at all. I’m sorry, I guess I’m just an…awkward person,” you say with a wince.
“Maybe I like awkward,” Eddie says, gently kicking his black boot against your white sneaker. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and they have plenty of room to buzz about, seeing as you hadn’t gotten to eat your lunch.
“Maybe I like awkward, too,” you say softly.
Eddie smirks. “Oh, then you must adore me, Harrington.”
“Maybe I do,” you say with a shrug, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact with him.
“Well, maybe I like sweet, pretty cheerleaders who can sucker punch like Bruce Lee and talk to me about horror movies.”
Your mind stopped listening after Eddie called you “pretty” though. Did he really think that? Or was he just saying it to be nice?
“Hmm,” you muse. “Guess I should send Hailey Hudson from the team your way to talk about Halloween then, huh?”
Eddie chuckles and the same sensation as when you made him laugh before fills your body.
“Nightmare on Elm Street is more my cup of tea,” Eddie says. “Plus, talking to any other cheerleader bedsides you doesn’t seem very appealing to me.”
“Miss Harrington,” Principal Higgins says, sticking his head out of his office. “You can come in now.” He steps back inside, and you release a sigh. Of course talking to Eddie would have to come to an end eventually, but why now?
“Well,” you say, standing up from the bench. “Guess it’s time to hear my sentence.”
“Maybe if you get released early for good behavior, we could grab pizza sometime?” Eddie looks nervous, and that alone makes you want to laugh. Why on earth would he be nervous asking if you wanted to hang out?
“That sounds great,” you say, the euphoric smile unable to stay off your face no matter how hard you try.
“Yeah?” Eddie asks, seeming shocked.
“Why do you sound surprised?” you ask with a giggle. Taking courage from the fact that he seems to be getting nervous around you as well, you decide to be a little bolder. “I don’t just throw punches for anyone, you know.”
The most endearing smile grows on Eddie’s face, and he places one of his ring-clad hands over his heart.
“I am very honored to have the most beautiful girl in school defending my honor.” He outstretches his hand out to you as you begin to walk backwards towards the principal’s office. “I’ll wait for you.”
You can’t help but giggle. “I’ll have my parole officer contact you.”
“Should be easy since I’m in the phone book.”
“I’ll make sure to let her know. Bye, Munson.”
“See you later, Harrington.” He gives you one last smile before you step into the office.
The worst part isn’t the detention you were given or that you have to apologize to Carver. It’s that you’re told to call your parents to come and get you. Apparently, the school nurse is out for the day, and they can’t have you staying in school with a potentially injured hand. It hardly even hurts anymore, but you’re not going to let them know that. Let them think that you’ll be headed to the hospital for all you care.
When you pick up the phone from the desk, your finger hovers over the numbers. Principal Higgins is sitting right there, making sure you’re going to tell your parents exactly why you need to be picked up. At the last second though, you dial a different number.
“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How can I help you?”
“Uh, hi, Dad,” you say, gripping at the receiver pressed against your ear.
“Dad?” you hear Steve ask in confusion. “This is—”
“I-I know,” you say. “I’m just calling, Dad, because I need you to pick me up from school. I’m in Principal Higgins’ office.
You can tell Steve understands now by the sigh that comes across the line. “What did you do?”
“Well, my hand is injured, and the nurse isn’t on duty today, so they don’t want me staying at school while I’m hurt and no one can check it out.”
“Tell him why it’s injured,” Principal Higgins says.
“Yes, tell me,” Steve echoes, obviously being able to hear his former principal’s words.
“I, um, I punched Jason Carver,” you say.
“You did what?!” Steve all but screams.
“He called Eddie Munson a freak in front of the whole cafeteria.” You say this piece looking Higgins dead in the eye. Are you going to do anything about that? you want to ask. “So, I punched Carver to shut him up.”
“Honestly, I’m impressed,” Steve says.
“Thanks. So, uh, can you come get me?”
“My shift is over in ten minutes,” Steve says. “I’ll head there as soon as I get out of here.”
“Thanks, St—uh, Dad. I’ll see you soon.” You hang up the phone and Principal Higgins stares at you over the rims of his glasses.
“He on his way?” he asks.
“He’ll be here soon.”
“I can’t believe you punched Jason Carver,” Steve says, shaking his head in amusement as he drives you home.
“He’s an asshole,” you defend with a shrug.
“Over Munson, though?” Steve asks incredulously. “Seriously? Couldn’t have picked another hill to die on?”
“Nope,” you say through gritted teeth. Crossing your arms over your chest, you stare out the passenger window.
“Why Munson, though, I—” Steve cuts himself off with a groan and shakes his head. “Oh, no. Please tell me I’m wrong.”
“I’d love to,” you reply. “But I need to know what you’re wrong about first.”
“Munson isn’t the guy you want to date, is he?” Steve asks nervously.
Your face gets hot for what feels like the millionth time in the past few days. But that’s all the confirmation your brother needs, because he’s letting out a groan that makes it sound like he’s in agony.
“You really have a thing for the Freak?”
“I have one good fist left,” you say. “Want me to use it on you?”
“I’ll tell Mom and Dad about your detention then,” Steve says with a shrug.
“Then I’d tell them about you moving the dirty magazines from beneath your bed into the air vent,” you counter.
“How do you even know about that?” Steve asks, shooting you a glare before looking back at the road.
“Your room and mine share the same vent and I can hear the pages rustling when the air is on.”
“You’re the worst,” Steve grumbles.
“You also have no room to complain with some of the trash you’ve dated,” you point out.
“Are you and Munson…a thing?” Steve asks, sounding like he hates every syllable of the question.
“No,” you tell him. “But he asked me to go get pizza with him. So, maybe soon.”
“And that will make you happy?” your brother asks.
A smile comes to your face just thinking about it. “It would.”
Steve nods his head and lets out a deep breath as if he’s resigning himself to the fact that you have feelings for Eddie.
“Okay, but you’re telling Mom and Dad.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x harrington!reader#harrington!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfic#request
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚜?
summary: just a summer day with your best friend, his girlfriend and his best friend.
A/n: I think I’ve written shy and awkward Eddie one other time but I just love him. He’s a little shy in this but the other chapters he’ll be very awkward
Eddie x fem! Reader, best friend! Gareth
18+ fluff, sweet + shy Eddie.
part 1/?
pt. 2: my ties are severed clean
pt. 3: so I turn back the time
“C’mon princess, the water isn’t that cold.”
“Wanna play mermaids?”
—
The van skid to a stop in the parking lot of Benny’s. Clouds of dust circling in its wake. Loud, mind splitting music blaring from the speakers, turning heads in the diner to glare out the filthy fog stained windows to see who would cause such a ruckus on this beautiful Sunday afternoon in the cozy sleepy town of Hawkins.
Your bestfriend since kindergarten, had called you earlier today, begging you to go to the pool with him and a friend.
“Aren’t we a little old for that?” You protested, balancing the corded phone between your ear and shoulder as you tie the pink apron strings around your waist, “besides Gare, I gotta work today.”
Even though his pleads and promises to make it worth your while peaked your interest, you still turned him down. Rent was due in the next week and you were short.
So you went to work, waiting tables and slinging pieces of cherry pie to the cheerful families after Sunday service. A smug hint of regret on your customer service smile.
It was 91° outside, making the diner feel like a special secret layer of hell that only existed in Hawkins. The itchy starch of your uniform clung to your skin and, sweat pooled down your back and made your hair limp. You took orders while fanning yourself with a menu.
Rubbing a sweaty glass of tea on your neck to cool yourself down, you had already replaced your usual bubblegum with ice cubes, melting too quick on your tongue to make it worth it.
By 2 o’clock you were tired and uncomfortable from being hot and sweaty. A combination mixed with irritation as one of your regulars yelled at you for forgetting ketchup. And when you slammed down a bottle on his table and cracked a half wit here you are, the bell above the front door dinged to alert you another no tipping customer came in for their dinner.
You stretch your lower back with both hands on your hips slightly, you call out behind the faded white swinging doors welcoming whoever to Benny’s and that you’d be right with them.
Straightening your hair and grabbing a few menus and napkin rolled silverware, you hear a familiar voice.
Not knowing him on a personal level, just from afar. Always with Gareth and the boys, the lead singer of their Hawkins famous band. The long curly haired, mysterious, Eddie Munson stood at the door.
He was leaning against the door frame, an unbuttoned flannel flapping gently with the oscillating steel blades of the old fan. The prettiest grin stretching his face into a sweet smile.
You didn’t have time to address him before his face turned into a makeshift look of worry. Big doe eyes glistening with eyebrows pulled upward into that mess of curls
It’s Gareth, there’s been an accident.
Without thinking, you throw the menus down on the nearest shelf and run to tell Benny you have to leave. Grabbing your purse and keys.
Gareth was always fucking around, taking his skateboard behind Jeff’s car, lighting fireworks off in the barrels behind the mall— it could be anything.
The tears are still fresh in your eyes when the seatbelt clicks into place, followed by a pair of warm hands covering your eyes, the faint familiar smell of camel cigarettes and chips.
Eddie speeds off from the parking lot and you gasp and turn around to hear the giggling boyish laugh of none other than Gareth.
Sitting smug with a cigarette tucked between his lips, his girlfriend Molly sitting next to him, a small smile on her thin lips.
After punching your friend and listening to the two rowdy boys laugh loud at your tears you explain through a pout that you don’t even have a suit.
Of course the shared 5 brain cells left between them already had that covered.
So here you were, ass pinched in the plastic chairs at the Hawkins Community Pool. The mothers of young children flocked to their reserved seats positioned carefully beside the wooden lifeguard perch. Eager for the brainless attention and smug mustache grin from the mullet wearing asshole that was Billy Hargrove.
When arriving to the pool, Eddie and Gareth tore off their shirts and shoes, both wearing cut off jeans into the cool water. Diving into the deep end despite the whistles from the sour faced lifeguards that forbade them from running.
Heels over head back-flips, cannonballs that sprayed the sidewalk, Olympic style dives from the high dive, throwing kids in the pool who came back for
more—they hadn’t stopped since getting here. Eddie’s soft brown curls hung wet—almost straight down his back and floated in the cool water as he climbed the steps up from the deep end.
Molly rubs another layer of baby oil on her legs and lets out a big sigh, her tortoise shell sunglasses sitting perched on her button nose. “It was Eddie’s idea, believe it or not.”
“What was?” You question, trying to adjust the skimpy borrowed red string bikini around your boobs.
“Picking you up,” she answers, a smirk in her lips, “he’s been begging Gareth all summer to give him the okay to ask you out.”
Eddie Munson?
“Nah uh..”
There was no way.
“Swear on the Bible, babe,” Molly grins, and she flicks the lighter against her pall mall.
“Gareth told me he was dating that girl who works at the Hideout, the one with the big tits?”
She rolls her eyes, “Gareth just didn't want his best friend dating his other best friend, he wouldn’t be able to choose sides if you guys broke up.”
“I barely even know him,” you say slowly, suddenly feeling a swarm of butterflies tickle your tummy, “he was older than us in school and I wasn’t in Hellfire.”
Flashes of your high school years blur before you, when he wasn’t making an ass of himself in the lunch room, Eddie was quiet, small laughs with his friends and completely enamored by D&D.
“Well according to Gareth, he’s been wanting your number for years, but was too shy to ask.”
You caught his eye a few times since getting to the pool. A shy glance here or there, dark eyes peeking over from the crest of the water to check if you had seen his cool trick from the high dive.
Eddie Munson had a crush on you.
“Babe!” Gareth calls from the side of the pool, his mop of scraggly curls dripping, “get in the water with us.”
Molly pushes her sunglasses into her thick blonde hair, “absolutely not, I didn’t come here to play.” you both giggle at him as he pouts and you almost jump out of your skin when Eddie looks directly at you.
“What about you?” he asks, splashing a handful of water up at you, the droplets hit you like lightning.
A small squeal leaves your lips as you wipe the water off your warm tanning skin, “fuck! that’s freezing!”
“Oh c’mon princess,” he purred, ignoring Gareth’s eye roll and wiping a hand down his slightly sunburnt face, “the water isn’t that cold.”
His smile warms your insides and sends an ache to your core. Lowering your chair you lay flat on your back, tossing a middle finger to the two boys floating in the deep end, a small victorious smile on your lips as the sun shines on your face.
You didn’t remember ever seeing Eddie with a girlfriend, and from the lies Gareth told you about him being a ladies man, you figured maybe he just didn’t date.
A shadow is casted against your stomach and face and you peek open one eye to see Eddie standing before you, dripping chlorine water down his tattooed chest. His cutoff black jeans hanging heavy on his hips, the black boxer briefs sitting dangerously low on his hip dips. His large hands thread through his hair wringing out the dark curls onto the concrete.
Your thighs clench at the sight and your breath hitches in your throat.
“Don’t make me pick you up and toss you in, sweetheart.” he says all too smooth, shaking his head like a dog. A toothy grin plastered on his ridiculously good looking face.
You put a foot onto his wet chest, stopping him in his tracks and wiggling your painted toes against his tattooed skin, “you wouldn’t dare.”
And what is meant to stop him only drives his want further. Before you can figure out what is happening, Eddie has you scooped up in his arms and is tickling your sides.
“No no no! Eddie, please!”
Your kicking and giggling falls on deaf ears as his cold wet skin seeps into your swimsuit, the ends of his hair bead water onto your chest as you cling to his neck.
Standing on the edge of the pool, his back facing the water, the browns of his eyes lighten in the sun, and his eyelashes kiss together as he squints.
He licks his lips, and you see the flash of what looks like a small metal ball on his tongue, “d’you trust me?”
Scrunching your nose you close your eyes and nod, you hear a laugh erupt from his chest as he falls back into the water with you.
The water was freezing. And Eddie’s hair covered your face like silky seaweed. Opening your eyes under the water, you see Eddie smiling at you, bubbles encasing him. He grabs your hand and you both break the surface of the water.
“Eddie, you jackass!” Molly yells from her chair as Gareth takes comfort in your chair next to hers, “you could have hurt her.”
“She’s in good hands,” Eddie yells, his eyes never leaving yours as he treads water in front of you.
You blush under his stare, the butterflies taking over and fluttering wildly, you feel like a teenager.
And you’re almost embarrassed when you blurt out, “wanna play mermaids?”
And more surprised when Eddie only laughs and says, “teach me?”
Your sides hurt from laughing, legs ached from playing like kids with Eddie. Just when you’d think he would want to stop and sit out, he’d come up with another game.
Sharks and minnows: he volunteered to be the shark each time just to be able to chase you around the pool.
You had repeated diving contests off the high dive: where he waited for you in the water raising up his fingers in numbers to every single dive you performed as if he was a judge at an event, his smile wide and cheery.
He laughed at the way you asked him to do George Washington style hair dos, but dunked his head into the water to proudly show his new hairstyle, trying not to melt at your little giggle and the feel of your fingers in his hair, pushing his bangs back into submission.
When the pool was nearly empty and a sunburnt Molly and Gareth took the van to go get Aloe Vera before Melvald’s closed, Eddie closed you in around the edge of the shallow water during a game of Marco Polo.
His voice low and velvety when he answered. Your eyes pinched shut as you reached for him and he closed his fingers between yours.
“Got ya,” you whisper, opening your eyes and seeing Eddie staring down into your face. Small freckles dot his nose and upper cheeks from the day in the sun, “you lose.”
Eddie’s playfulness is gone, he’s all serious behind the depth of his coal eyes, “you sure about that, babe?”
“Is that a thing of yours? Pet names for all the girls?” you tease.
His eyes soften and his thumb traces your chin, “and if it was?”
The sun is behind his head like a halo, and god he looks like a fallen angel.
Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, the astringent taste of chlorine bitter on your tongue. Eddie’s eyes follow, and you see the silver jewelry again in his mouth when he repeats your actions.
The thought of that steel ball hugging and sweeping against your lips make you shiver.
Before you can answer him, all the lifeguards blow their whistles and announce the pool is closing.
But Eddie doesn’t budge and neither do you. His thumb sweeps against your cheek and you buckle under his touch.
“Hey assholes!” A loud booming voice full of too much testosterone and choked balls from the worlds tightest swim trunks echoes across the concrete pool, “we’re closed, get the fuck out!”
Eddie rolls his eyes up at the mullet wearing douche, and plants his hands on the edge of the pool, jumping out. Water splashes around his feet as he extends a grin and a large hand down to you, “c’mon princess, i’ll walk you home.”
#eddie munson#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
So. This is my own take on Steddie meet cute at the Grammys (gets a little thirsty in the middle for a second so warning I guess??)
———
The buzzing in his veins feel too much to contain in Eddie’s body, his cheeks ache from grinning too hard. He grabs Jeff by the shoulders to shake him and Jeff takes it without complain, too busy floating in his own cloud nine to do anything about it. All four of them are.
They’re being carted off from one interview to another, it’s all hazy in his mind, all he can think of is that they won a fucking Grammy.
“We’re here backstage with Corroded Coffin with their first ever Grammy from the best rock performance category,” the interviewer is saying, then he turns to face the band, and shit. Eddie has to sling an arm over Gareth to keep himself upright. “So how are you guys feeling right now?”
“It feels very validating to get the recognition for all our hard work—” and everything else Jeff says barely registers. Eddie is staring, he’s distantly aware of it. But he should hardly be blamed. The man before him is dressed in a deep caramel suit, jacket cinching around a trim waist and bubble gum pink lips stretched in a smile as he diligently listens to what his band has to say.
“— and Eddie, he’s really put his heart and soul in this song in particular,” the mention of his name unceremoniously drags him back to the land of the living where his bandmates know him too well and are actively trying to sabotage him before the sexy interviewer. Gareth is innocently blinking up at Eddie with his I’ve-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life eyes, urging him to speak.
“Um,” Um? Seriously? “Mob Mentality is an especially significant song to me personally—” Eddie’s given this spiel a hundred times, not that any word of it is untrue, but the practiced response lets him zone out just the right amount to fully drown himself in the shade of hazel of the interviewer’s eyes, imagine them looking up at Eddie from between his thighs, full of tears— goddamnfuckstopit.
The man must notice, because there’s a gorgeous smattering of pink dusting his cheeks Eddie could swear wasn’t there before.
After, Eddie is pretty much bodily dragged away from there, legs refusing to carry him away. He twists even as he’s walking, desperate to keep the man within his sights for even just a second longer. To keep him looking at Eddie, which by some miracle, he still is. And like an idiot Eddie waves, wiggling his fingers at him.
The man raises his own hand in return, and then he’s turning away, leaving Eddie to mourn the loss of his attention. But then he hears it— Steve. The camera guy calls him Steve. Sexy interviewer’s name is Steve. That in itself would be enough to sustain Eddie’s daydreams for some time.
———
Predictably, its all over social media the very next day. Or more accurately there’s one particular clip circling the net like there’s no tomorrow.
Eddie Munson simping for hot guy at the Grammys.
The comments were the worst (best) part. Eddie hasn’t dated since coming out to the public. And the fact that most of the comments people have about him openly showing interest in another man is just nonchalance or excitement makes him feel much better about it.
Eddie’s heart skips as he sees the face from last night in the clip, looking even more gorgeous than in his dreams if it were even possible. And then there is also Eddie in those clips, practically undressing him with his eyes, right there in public. He looks like he wants to open him up and lick him like melted chocolate in a wrapper.
Eddie was so screwed.
———
Top comments:
user 80085: that man is stronger than me because I don’t think I’d survive Eddie Munson looking at me like that
CorrodedFC: Eddie Munson Rendered momentarily speechless? by an interviewer?? More likely that you think
you_call_me_munson: they need to date. Right this second or I’m stealing one of the hotties for myself
———
Part II
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things fanfiction#famous eddie munson#steddie Grammys edition
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Unexpected (Eddie Munson x Reader)
Masterlist
Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)
Warnings: none
Synopsis: The freshman go to Eddie’s but an unknown girl answers the door. She couldn’t be Eddie’s girlfriend, right?
Y/N notes: smaller than Eddie
Request for an anon! I’ve been getting a couple secret girlfriend type requests recently so that’s fun:)
Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!
Wanna request something? Look here!
“Mike we can turn around at any point if you just admit that you’re wrong.” Dustin said as the boys biked to the trailer park.
“No way dude.” Mike replied, annoyed he’d even suggest that. The determination he felt inside kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead of him. “I know I’m right.”
“Fine.” Dustin shrugged. Lucas sighed.
“This is stupid.”
“And yet you still came with us.” Dustin added.
The boys often had nerdy arguments. It could be about anything. D&D, books, movies, video games…
But this was the first time they had been arguing over the weekend and Eddie wasn’t there to end it. Their Dungeon Master was an infinite source of knowledge on all things nerd, so they knew they had to go to him to settle this and it couldn’t wait until Monday.
They reached the familiar trailer and dropped their bikes, going to knock on the door. Dustin gave his friend a smug look. “Mike you are about to eat your-“
The door swung open. The boys were greeted not by Eddie, or his uncle, but a girl. She looked like she could be about the same age as their dungeon master. Little pyjama shorts and a Hellfire shirt on. It looked a little big on her. About Eddie’s size. She looked like she just rolled out of bed yet she still looked good.
The girl smiled at them, a little surprised.
“Hi?” She greeted. The three boys just stared up in shock. After getting no response, she tried again. “Can I help you?” She asked, quirking one eyebrow up.
“Uh we’re looking for Eddie?” Dustin said slowly, like he was waiting to be told they were at the wrong trailer. The girl poked her head back inside.
“Babe! Some kids are here asking for you!” She shouted in.
Babe? No, she couldn’t be.
“Do they look like nerds?” They heard Eddie shout back. His voice sounded a little groggy, like he hadn’t been awake too long either. Y/N turned back and assessed each of them.
“Two of them do! The other looks like a jock!”
“Ah. Right.” They heard Eddie say.
Soon enough the metalhead walked into view, slinging an arm around the girl. She leaned into the touch. He grinned down at the freshman, seeing the looks on their faces. “Good morning gentlemen.”
“Eddie? Who is this?” Mike asked, pointing.
“This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” Eddie answered, like it was obvious.
“You… have a girlfriend?” Lucas questioned. Eddie put a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.
“Is it really that hard to believe Sinclair?”
“Yes.” The trio replied. Eddie’s girlfriend began laughing, burying her face into his pyjama shirt before standing back up straight.
“Aww man Eds these kids are funny. You guys must be in Hellfire yeah?” She smiled fondly at them. They all nodded. “Nice! Which one of you’s Dustin?”
“Me?” Dustin said cautiously.
“So we finally meet Henderson. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Y/N smirked.
“You have?”
“Yeah I can’t get Eddie to shut up about you some days.”
“Babe. Stop.” Eddie angrily whispered making Y/N and the boys giggle. Y/N grabbed his face and pulled it down a little.
“Stop being cute.”
“I can’t help it, I’m just so effortlessly adorable.” Eddie replied, his cheeky grin returning. Y/N pulled his a little closer for a kiss. The boys pulled disgusted faces.
“Ugh gross.” Mike commented. The older kids chuckled and turned back to them.
“Wheeler don’t act like you’re just as bad with your girl.” Eddie said, placing a hand on Y/N’s waist.
“What the hell are you guys doing here?” The group turned around to see their red headed friend who lived across the street.
“Max!” Lucas greeted enthusiastically. “Dustin and Mike were arguing so we came here to settle it.” Max rolled her eyes as if she was saying of course.
“Hey Max.” Y/N said with a smile.
“Hey.” The boys eyes widened.
“You knew Eddie has a girlfriend???” Dustin questioned. The other boys looked outraged too. Max gave them a funny look.
“Yeah I see her around here all the time. I assumed you guys knew?”
“No. We didn’t.” Mike said in an over the top voice.
“So what’s the debate gentlemen?” Eddie asked. “This is supposed to be my day off from you kids.” He joked.
“We need you to settle something for us.” Mike stated.
“Alright. Shoot.” Mike and Dustin both opened their mouths but no words came out. They frowned and looked at each other.
“Wait… what were we arguing about again?” Dustin asked.
“I genuinely have no idea.” The pair turned to Lucas. He put his hands up innocently.
“You two lost me as soon as we got on our bikes.” The boys sighed in frustration.
“Well you guys biked all this way,” Y/N interrupted. “You wanna come in? We’ve got hot chocolate and a shit ton of mugs.”
“But I thought we were gonna have a lazy morning today.” Eddie complained, leaning more on Y/N. She moved to wrap her arms around his neck.
“I’m sure they won’t be too long. Then we can get back in bed and spend the rest of the day there.” Y/N spoke softly, not really wanting the younger ones to hear. “And we can do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” Eddie grinned.
“Whatever you want.”
“Gross.” Mike said again. “Are we getting hot chocolate or are we just gonna watch you two making babies right in front of us?”
“Chill out Wheeler.” Eddie brushed off. He walked back into his trailer, holding Y/N’s hand as she followed. “Alright everyone get in, I’ve got a date with my bed and this lovely lady so make it quick.”
Tag list: @Mikinyi @justaproudslytherpuff @angelicjinwoo @k12baby @spiderman-berries @ruhro7 @justanotherhappyidiot @dontcallmesavvy @kenzi-woycehoski @gh0stm3g @lagataprrr @spencersbookbag @ygrworld @ambernicole90 @alwaysbeenfamous @angelsarecallin @voteforevilthoughts @iameddiemunsonshair @hellf1reclub @phobles-world @isshecleverorisshecrazy @olrjmarvete @b-bella9 @ultraoliviajeromethings-blog @beatlebeesstuff @korescomaactually @bilesxbilinskixlahey @darkened-writer @nightless @gnkkstarz @cullenswife @killergoddessmm @preciousbabypeter @uselessbutinteresting @frogtits1 @lotus-es @padfootpottah99 @siriuslysmoking @enoumen-t @marrigold-2002 @nightless @the-mysterious-miss-s @olrjmarvete @evie-119 @rand0m—fangirl @felicityofbakerstreet @lotus-es @v0idl1nq @stv-1-ncent @eiviea @iheartcb @grumpyy-bearr @purple-flamingo @eddiessoulmate @violetrainbow412-blog @mcueveryday @marauders3rawh0re @ravenhood2792 @dragonalpha54 @slytherinintj13 @pastel-abyss-x @missscarlettangel @charli123456789 @henhouse-horrors @erikaar @golden-hoax @fairynamjoonie @caramelkatsukis-bitch @sun-faced @somerandomasgardian @helensophie @avobabe87 @s-u-t @superheavymetalunicorn @low-keyyyyy @carliuxima @avarose06 @ticharluv @ijustfndamilldllrsthatsmnefgt @gia-maybank @takemetoneverland420 @notbeforelong @lovepity @falling4uke @emiijemii @chocolatestudentllamabanana @milkiane @montgomery-fucking-gator @girl-in-the-chairs-void @ourheartsofsteel @simp4fictional @sakurarou @nyctophiliiiiaaa @just-that-bi-girl @ieatrocks1 @beautifulrunwaymodelwombat @geeksareunique @chiggennuggie @levylovegood @eddie-swhore @char1389 @chaerwithluv @annikin-im-panicin @mmmxmo @cestlavie03 @selenelouvel @thanatophobiawilldestroyme @unicorntrooper @jmj-1312 @nxrdamp @funn-sizedd @idblamekate @miraakswhore @7myoi @vintageleather @lemongirl5910 @hermie62 @tuskjohnny @madcosss @vinnielovesmel @michaelfuckinglangdon @bbyharlow @bakugouswh0r3 @bookswillfindyouaway @im-a-nobody-101 @jellyfishbeansontoast @steph88w @kendallpaige @strawberrykittey @abbyeey @rocking—and—rolling @dragons-dejavu @ghoulsgraveyard @spiderstyles04 @piratedelusion @your-mom-is-smoking-hot @lxffy-icon @kaiya3333 @my-obsession-spn @eddiemvnsongf @bicallison @rivuh-stone @summeritalyrain @hanihans @noa-keselman @hangel0veb0t @xbreezymeadowsx @official-maddibrown @sugabops @shoutokozume @joyfulstar81 @dontwaistyourtime @wintersdarling @gnkkstarz @pleasantlycrazyworld @oinomniaparatuso @magnet-girl @e-girl-on-the-server @antisocialthat70sshow @ma-tara @golden-thv @shamidreamer @crypticlxrsh @squishymochiuwu @kovieky @existentialjams-blog @caelin32212 @kissmyquill @lunar-flwr @whiskeypowder @vhscillian @alisslahey @prongs-girlfriend @afs1 @lilsubbysblog @melodiclovesong @same-panic-different-disco @stormyparker @madnessismylover @obi-wanakenobi @nerdboylover @waterfallpussyprincess @cailaif @cherrybean1116 @cal-is-not-on-branding @dragqueen-scully @underrailed @elrose1532 @anxiously-sad @haroldpotterson @nicodoesntexist @ruckusbowzeus @liviav @eddiemunsonlomlll @moonbeampillgoth @seiphira @sweethearteddiemunson @ahoeforharlow @stcrrjoon @tnu-ree @dootys @rengokuiloveu @findleynovadachs111 @reincarnationoftheparty @friednickelfestivalwolf @capybergara @wolflover384 @othermonsters @chibipeachu @waitalice @possible-yandere @katsukis1wife @ofherscarlettwitchways @defnotarobot @iameddiemunsonshair @ilovehotdads001 @thoughtsofdarc @letmeplaytheliontoo @aunicornmademedoit @barnaclebeeshive @shutthefupdoll @mushywutty @eddiemunsonsfavbitch @anangelwhodidntfall @smol-book-nerd @eddiesmxse @salembridger @houseofpyschoticwomen @moonisu @paola-carter @bay-did-nothing-wrong @ladypeaches4summerluv @the1withchampagneproblems @athenata @munsonxharringtonx @havecourage-darling @bea-bo @yelenas-princess @tototini @winchester-angel @riddle-munsonswhore @imheadintothemountains @mimikyu-of-death @heystaystray @stiles24 @realmoose @emilyymbbb @killmewithafanfic @frankiethedarkangel @insssanemind @hello-shirousa @kylokilupin @hxneybeehxlland @cherrypieyourface @imareallycoolperson @watchingteav @zervopoulouu @harringt8ns @spiderrrling @forsaken-letters @namjoonskitten @fayetheenthusiast @authorlovers @myglitteryrose @denibaby @sunflowerbebe07 @cherriebat @ln-nell @efvyqrs @lets-be-freaks @carebearsofie @poltergeistsblog @like-things-thatarentreal @zoinksscoobs @mylesofasgard @ihearteddie-munson @luvmybbies @restandrelaxslayti0n @eddiemunsonsfuturewife @isapellim @charming-fan-girl @toomanyfandoms87 @munsaniac @nilladean @maruushkka @white-marvel-grey @boooil @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @lynnblair @stratospherewalker @arctyres @that-girl-named-alex @slvtherinseeker @da-disappointment @dreamtiara @ceejay-95 @sunflwrnsunnieshine @ameliakf13 @fentyreligion @deafeningempathfishcowboy @escape-in-time-x @mitskislays @thegingerthatwaited @camiloboo @cinnamonrollangel @toomanybandstocare @mmflvrrs @shanhalen @eddiemunson1sstuff @rainbows-dreams @whydoesmyphoneautocorrectdick @theprincessofeddiemunson @ozziiiiieeddi @tubble-wubble @re3xx @spnfamily2005 @coffeehurricane @skelefandom @hunnybunimdun @hestiia-vesta @mtndewinyourmom @begginyouformendes @munsonmunster @flicksturz @thikkiesixx @sebby-staan @maraudersimp231 @libelulas-y-sandias @teaberry68 @syxtiramishuui @uhellagoofy @livslifeonline @kenzi-woycehoski @marauderssimpcuzwhytfnot @sweetpeapod @dearelliewrites @fraudfrog @kbakery @scentedstudentfestivalclod @loliakeoghan23 @a-mexican-waffle @griffinkid2187 @meaganjm @that-one-gaywhore @bluestuesday @bjrmaybank @wheaty-melon @slut-for-fictional-men-kms @eddiemunsonlvrr @zupajespren @gloomy-official @emeraldborealis @depressedstressedlemonzest @intoanothermind @httpfandxms @aliloveseddie @eddiemunsonswifee24 @cinderellacauseshebroke @cherrypieyourface @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @fallonaurr @megudragon
#eddie munson#reader x Eddie Munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#st eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#edddie munson#stranger things x reader#stranger things season four#stranger things season 4#stranger things#stranger things spoilers#stranger things imagine#reader x stranger things
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
So here we have Eddie Munson, wild child, irresponsible Omega.
Gets himself knocked up, because of course he does. Isn't even sure who the Alpha is.
Eddie Munson; father to an hours old pup. Eddie Munson is still in highschool because he fucked senior year royally. He lives in a one bed trailer with his uncle that is not, in any way, equipped for a pup. Eddie Munson who already has an arrest record and is quite clearly still slinging drugs on the side.
Absolutely not; CPS takes his pup before she's a day old.
Eddie Munson rails against it, screams about it, cries about it, has a fucking come to Jesus moment with himself at three in the morning and he's still wearing the godamn stupid pants from the hospital because his ass is leaking and his tits are sore and god dammit he's getting his pup back.
He sells the last of his stock the next day, drops highschool and job hunts like his life depends on it. Still needs a place that's not the trailer; no one will rent to an unmated single Omega. He won't get his pup back as a single Omega.
Enter Eddie's best friend: Jeff. More importantly, Alpha Jeff. Who does Eddie an absolute fucking solid and agrees to move in with him. So they do. And they pretend to be a couple to get Eddie's pup back.
Unfortunately, Steve Harrington has seen it all before and sees through them in about thirty seconds flat. They even have two bedrooms and one is clearly Eddie's and one is clearly Jeff's and they confidently lie to Steve's face and tell him they had a friend stay last night, that's all, this will be the pups room.
There's an actual crib in Eddie's room already; Steve doesn't say shit.
Because the thing is, Steve's fostered pups from actually abusive homes and neglect ridden situations, and this isn't that.
And the few times he sees Eddie and Jeff together, pretending to be a couple it's just...painful. Jeff puts his arm around Eddie one time and Eddie actually pulls away instinctively,, a 'what the fuck is this?' expression clear on his face until he realizes and makes himself sink back into it.
They tried to hold hands one time. It almost turned into a thumb war.
Eddie might be lying through his teeth, but he's a desperate Omega who just wants his baby back. So Steve starts the process, signs off on the supervised visits, and spends eight weeks watching Eddie Munson be the best parent anyone could hope for.
Inconveniently, Steve spends those eight weeks falling in love.
And they go on like that, until Steve bumps into Jeff and his girlfriend somewhere, and Jeff fucking panics and drops the girls hand line it's on fire, and the girl gets the most offended fucking look on her face and it's everything Steve can do not to burst out fucking laughing. And Jeff is trying to sputter an explanation which is turning his girlfriend incandescent with rage, "you said you were just friends! Is that your pup??!"
And Steve is actually frightened for Jeff at this point because this girl looks like she is ready to start throwing down so Steve has to just admit, that he knows. He's known right from the start.
Eddie nor Jeff can't lie for shit.
And he talks the girl down, "so Jeff is actually a really great guy, he's just been trying to help Eddie get his pup back," and the girl melts at the story.
Eddie doesn't. Eddie fucking freaks out. Thinks he's about to loose his pup all over again.
But Steve has an alternative suggestion, and it starts by asking Eddie "what are you doing this Friday? Can I take you to dinner?"
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#omega eddie because he's so pretty#alpha steve harrington#fliclet#fic ideas
970 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
stargirlinajar
Dream of Supernovas, Little Star
spookyhumanzipperzine
Unknown
rocktree0
The Blogging of Thomasen 135
blvckxbeautv
Czuj się jak w domu
coresesons
Cores & Sons