#chrissy x nancy x girl eddie x girl steve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eiightysixbaby · 9 months

Text

personal jesus

word count: 8.6k

pairing: stripper!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: your friends take you out to a strip club for your birthday, and you really hit it off with one particular stripper….

cw: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. mentions of alcohol consumption, billy is in this fic (I promise he’s not in it for very long it just makes perfect sense for him to be a stripper OKAY 😭) lap dances, depictions of sensual dancing/strip routines, oral (m & f receiving), very brief mention of spanking, spit kink, unprotected piv, creampie

author’s note: well. I’ve been working on this for a while now and I’m extremely happy that it’s finally ready to be shared! I highly recommend listening to personal jesus by depeche mode while you read this, considering the entire idea for this came to me while listening to that song! I hope you all enjoy, I put a lot of time into this and I hope it shows.

It’s your birthday. A day to celebrate you turning another year older. Another year closer to death, and another year painfully single and alone.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. Turning 25 doesn’t exactly make you geriatric, but seeing the people close to you hit milestones in their relationships had you feeling a little insecure on this particular birthday. Nancy was engaged, Robin and Vickie just celebrated their 3 year anniversary of dating, Chrissy and Steve had finally made things official a month ago and were sickeningly cute together. It just had you longing for a connection.

You’d had horrible luck with guys lately, and it was weighing on you. You wanted someone special to spend your day with, someone to hold you at night and stick by you forever. Or, at this point, you were even okay with just having a little fun. Any sort of male attention was fine with you, wanting to end the drought you’d been experiencing.

So, it was only natural that the girls decided to take you to a strip club this evening. The car pulls up to the door of the seedy looking building, everything very discreet from the outside. You’re wearing a shimmery silver dress with very thin straps, the fabric stopping above your mid thigh. Sheer black tights with tiny sequins adorn your legs, accompanied by silver heels with straps that you wrap around your lower legs and tie. You step out of your Uber and into the parking lot, heels clicking on the pavement. Here goes nothing.

You pull the door open, being greeted by a rush of blasting air conditioning, and the strong smell of alcohol and cologne. You see all of your friends at a table close to the stage at the center of the floor, and they immediately turn and wave at you. You prance over to them eagerly, receiving hugs from all of them along with shrill ‘Happy Birthday!’s. Robin immediately pulls out a sparkly sash that reads ‘Birthday Girl’ and throws it over your head, letting it rest diagonally across your body. Her and Vickie had actually come up with this idea for tonight, knowing it would be fun for you to let loose a little. You all start to catch up with one another, diving into the latest gossip and life updates.

Conversation lulls briefly, Chrissy taking this as her opportunity to pull out a tray of homemade cupcakes from their hiding spot under her chair, Nancy sticking candles in each one.

“Guys, do we really have to sing?” you groan, smiling despite your reluctance.

“Yes! We have to sing you happy birthday!” Chrissy insists, her delicate hands grabbing your forearms gently and squeezing. “You’re 25! This is exciting!!”

Nancy’s hands hold a small lighter, fingers cupping around each candle as she lights them individually. The diamond on her ring finger glistens in the lights of the club, catching your eye. You snap yourself out of the self-deprecating thoughts before they can even start, remembering where you are and how tonight is about you. Once every candle is lit, the girls gather close around the table, singing happy birthday to you rather loudly and theatrically. You’re a flustered mess as you giggle at them, blowing out your candles swiftly after they finish. They all clap and cheer, Vickie passing cupcakes around on small plates to everyone. You order a drink, your personal favorite, deciding you need to catch up with your friends who already have their beverages.

The lights in the club dim as you take a bite into your cupcake, strawberry icing greeting your tongue. A spotlight shines on the curtain at the back of the stage, and several whoops and hollers erupt from club patrons, including you and your friends. Your drink is placed in front of you by a server, and you take a sip, letting the alcohol sear your mouth. An electric buzz runs through you as the first sip travels down your throat, and the house music cuts. A new song begins and your heart starts racing. As excited as you were, you’d never been to a strip club before, and you felt your cheeks grow hot in anticipation.

The song that plays is ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine, you recognize it instantly. As cliche of a choice as it might be, you can’t pretend like it isn’t the perfect song for something like this.

The curtains flutter and a male figure appears, your head whipping in his direction in an instant. You can’t deny, he’s gorgeous. Big blue eyes, curly caramel hair styled into a mullet, but it totally works on him. His teeth are perfect, and his body, oh his body. He’s wearing leather pants and a white button up shirt. Most of the buttons are undone, exposing his muscular chest. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and you can tell his biceps are begging to break out of the fabric. He has a black bowtie snug around his neck, and for some reason it makes him all the more attractive. The crowd cheers as he parades around the stage, holding his arms out in greeting as he walks the perimeter. He makes a show of undoing the last few buttons on his shirt, fingers slowly popping them out one by one. You and your friends cheer excitedly, all of you in fits of eager giggles.

“This one is Billy,” Robin leans in and whispers to you. “I was informed there’d be three performers tonight, and based on the stars in your eyes we’re off to a great start,” she teases you, and you swat her away with a laugh, eyes still trained on the stripper, who you now know to be named Billy.

He trails his hand down his bare chest slowly, grinding his hips into his hand when it hovers over his crotch. You’re practically swooning in your seat and based on the wolf whistles erupting from women around you, you’re not the only one. He takes his shirt off fully, throwing it into the crowd haphazardly. He parades around a little bit more, showing off that spectacular body, before he stills and the lights change color. The song starts to fade out, fading into a different one.

‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails begins to play through the speakers, and you notice movement behind the black curtain once more. Another man steps out, a striking contrast to Billy. He’s lankier, very thin, and his energy is far more submissive. It’s attractive all the same, and your eyes turn their focus to him. He has a head of shaggy brown hair and bangs that fall in his light brown eyes. His arms and chest aren’t as toned as Billy’s, but it works for him. He’s also wearing the black leather pants and white button up that Billy came out in, finished off with the same black bowtie. He commands the room better than you’d have expected him to, kneeling on the floor of the stage, leaning back on one hand as he rolls his hips upwards. He moves fluidly, and the way his hand glides down to grab his dick beneath his pants makes you sweat.

“Who- who’s that one?” you ask the table, leaning into their personal space a bit too far - but you’ll blame the alcohol.

“Jonathan,” Vickie smiles, and you’re impressed that they seemingly did their research before coming here tonight.

Jonathan and Billy both walk to the end of the stage, right in front of your table, and they both catch the sash you’re wearing. They wink at you, somehow in unison although it couldn’t have been planned, merely a glorious coincidence, and you give a flirtatious little wave in their direction. Jonathan shrugs his shirt off of his shoulders, throwing it in the opposite direction of the crowd as Billy had thrown his. It’s funny, but until now you didn’t even take note of the shiny metal poles fixed to the stage. Each man positions himself at one, and your eyes are transfixed on them. You can’t wrap your head around the way the two of them spin on the poles, how strong they must be to support their bodies like that. Billy has toned arms and a defined chest, so he fits the type, but Jonathan… you wouldn’t have expected this sort of strength from him. You’re absolutely entranced watching them move, and you don’t know how much time has passed before the music starts to fade again and the lights dim.

Various whoops and hollers erupt once more, wolf-whistles and claps of hands, and you can only assume whoever’s about to come out next is the crowd favorite. You chew on your lip in anticipation, watching as Billy and Jonathan simply walk back towards the curtain, standing in front of it unmoving. The previous song has completely faded out, the room dead silent for the first time since you got here. It only lasts a moment, though, before a new song announces itself over the speakers, without warning.

Reach out and touch faith.

‘Personal Jesus’ by Depeche Mode, it’s not a hard one to clock after that opening line. The curtains open in the dark, a spotlight coming on to illuminate the new figure. Your jaw drops when you see him, luckily catching yourself before your drink falls from your hand. You don’t need any more explanation as to why he’s the fan favorite stripper. He’s gorgeous - long brown curls cascading over his shoulders, a sheet of wavy bangs falling just above his eyes. He has a silver lip ring, and a piece of black jewelry in his left eyebrow. He glides his tongue along his top row of teeth in a smug open-mouthed chuckle, knowing the effect he has on the room. He wears the same leather pants, but he has a black button-up shirt on in place of the white ones the other two men were wearing. The way he moves in perfect time with this song makes you believe he must have lots of practice - this is his song and he’s making that clear. He walks easily to the end of the stage, stopping right in front of your table. He unbuttons his shirt in the most sensual fashion you think you’ve ever seen, nimble fingers drawing out every movement, making it take longer than it truly needs to. You can’t help but giggle when Billy and Jonathan come to his sides, pulling the garment off of him. The shirt gets tossed directly at you, the glowing birthday girl, and you gasp in surprise.

“And this one,” Nancy leans in close to your ear, “-is Eddie,” she winks at you, your hands clutching the shirt as you stare up at the man on the stage.

He’s even more glorious with his shirt off, his body littered with tattoos that you think you might want to lick. He has a tie around his neck, not a bowtie but a standard tie, and he tugs on it with force, dropping himself to his knees as if yanked by a leash. His eyes meet yours, unwavering as he watches you. Deep pools of brown that you feel like you could drown in. He lowers his torso to the ground, reaching a hand out and closing his fingers maybe two feet from your face, as if grabbing something.

Reach out and touch faith.

He’s grinding against the floor now, Billy and Jonathan entertaining different groups in the crowd from different sides of the stage. Eddie leans back on his heels, rolling his hips up into the air, one hand tugging on that damn tie and the other gliding slowly down his body. He grips his crotch, the shiny silver rings that adorn his fingers glistening from the bright lights above. You think you see Chrissy literally swoon beside you, and even Nancy’s biting her lip, cheeks flushed pink. Robin and Vickie are slack-jawed - impressed with the way these three guys know how to command the attention of a room. Your heart pounds in your chest with every rumble of the bass over the blaring speakers, your brain melting into a euphoric feeling.

Just as you think you’re able to catch your breath, Eddie jumps down from the stage. Oh god. He approaches you, standing with his legs apart, leaving room for your legs to rest between his. He bends down to your ear, one hand gripping the back of your chair.

“Think the birthday girl deserves a special show, hm?” he rasps into your ear, and you feel your skin grow hot.

His hips roll in front of your face, you’re eye-level with his crotch. Your skin feels white-hot, you know all the attention in the room must be on this scene and you’re both flattered and a little shy. You have to refrain from reaching out to Eddie, have to refrain from letting your fingers glide up his stomach, feel him. As if reading your mind, though, he grabs your hands, sliding them up his stomach and chest, encouraging you. You’re so taken with him you don’t register that the other two strippers have joined him until Billy’s murmuring in your ear from behind you.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” his honey voice drawls, hands resting on one of your shoulders.

Jonathan comes to stand behind you as well, and in his hand is a shot of whatever liquor the girls had ordered for you. He holds it where you can see it, your head tilted back to look at him. He gives you a smile - one that momentarily shatters the raunchy stripper vibe and reveals his true kindness. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for you.

“Open,” Eddie says, smirking down at you while he resumes in giving you a lap dance, his hips grinding lower over your lap now. He’s as close as he can be without pressing his full weight on you.

Lift up the receiver, I’ll make you a believer

Your lips part, your whole body vibrating as Jonathan tips the shot glass down towards your mouth. The liquid falls in a single stream onto your tongue, and you swallow it in one go.

“Mmm, she knows how to swallow,” Eddie purrs, and you feel your face heat up under his intense stare.

You can only imagine the looks on your friends’ faces, but you hear their cheers for you along with the rustling of dollar bills that you can only assume are being shoved in the guys’ pants. Jonathan and Billy turn to head back on stage, but not before turning back to get one last eyeful of you. You blow kisses at them, giggling when they pretend to catch them. Eddie’s still focused on you, still invading your personal space. You’re squeezing your thighs together beneath your tight little dress, looking right into his eyes as he laughs to himself. He stands, walking around your chair slowly. Your left hand slips bills into his tight pants, your fingers lingering just a moment too long. Feeling a little bold, you grab his tie with your other hand and tug on it playfully, almost catching him off guard but he steels himself. He quirks an eyebrow at you, now standing behind you. He bends down, gravelly voice rumbling in your ear.

“You have no idea what that does to me, sweetheart.”

Your own personal Jesus

Eddie’s lips nearly touch your earlobe as he speaks. The way his breath makes your skin tingle can only be described as a religious experience. Ringed fingers caress your arm before he picks up your hand, placing a kiss to the back of your palm. He teasingly bites one of your fingers, flustering you for probably the millionth time tonight. He finally retreats, mouthing one last ‘happy birthday’ as he returns to the stage. He’s not done with his show though, joining his costars for a little bit of action on the pole that waits for him. His leather pants squeeze his ass so tight, you hope you’re not drooling as you watch him. You suddenly wish he was back on your lap, murmuring filthy things into your ear, fucking you senseless. But you can’t hook up with the stripper, you remind yourself, and you try to wave the thoughts away as you watch the rest of his little performance.

There’s no denying the way he locks eyes with you any moment he can, strong limbs wrapping around the pole as he seems to effortlessly spin a little. Chrissy reaches out to touch your arm, giggling excitedly.

“He can’t stop looking at you, ohmygosh!” she squeaks, pulling her lip between her teeth as you meet Eddie’s eyes once more, as if to confirm her statement.

“Where do I inquire about adopting a stripper?” Robin asks jokingly. “Yeah, um, I’d like to take that one home please… and can we wrap him in a pretty bow?” she says, pretending like she’s talking on the phone to someone important. “Seriously, I think he likes you,” she says to you, tone serious once more.

“Guys, come on. Do you know how many girls he probably does this same exact routine to?” you say, waving a hand dismissively and trying to be lighthearted, but you can’t deny the sting in your chest when you say the words.

Eddie is a stripper. This is a routine - a money maker. It’s all just a calculated game to him. He probably treats every other birthday girl the same way he treated you. Your mouth feels dry suddenly, and you throw back another shot to hopefully drown out the incoming sadness. Even if it’s a routine, it doesn’t make him any less hot, and it doesn’t mean you still can’t have fun, you think to yourself. You focus your eyes back up at the three gorgeous men on stage, watch as they move in unison, gyrating and touching their bodies and each others’ bodies. Cash is being thrown to the stage around them, raining down as the lights flash and pulse. Eddie keeps catching your eyes, winking at you for good measure. The alcohol in your system enhances the effect he has on you. He’s so close to you yet so far, you want to grab a hold of him and pull him to you.

Reach out and touch faith

The song comes to a steady close, music fading as the guys all bow and blow kisses and wave. You and your friends are all clapping and cheering with giddy delight, your head a wonderful swirl of explicit thoughts. They slip back behind the curtain, one by one, and your heart pangs for a moment when Eddie gives one last pointed wave in the direction of your table before disappearing behind the black velvet.

“Oh. My. God!” Chrissy’s mouth is agape, her lips shiny from her sparkly lipgloss. She fans herself, mock-fainting back into her chair, making the whole table laugh. You must sound like a bunch of schoolgirls, blushing and fussing over a few pretty boys.

“So, like, we’re not gonna drop the fact that Eddie is totally in love with you, right?” Robin asks, turning her body to face you.

You roll your eyes, fingers pressing into her arm as you shove her oh-so-gently. “Stoooop. He is not in love with me,” you say, biting on your lip to hold back a smile.

“You can’t even say that with a straight face! You, at least, are in love with him,” she says matter of factly, nodding her head once with finality.

“I am not!” you meekly defend, taking a bite of another cupcake to avoid talking more.

“Oh come on, babe, you’re not fooling me. I’m not into the guys, I was just watching for your reactions the whole time. You are sooo crazy for him,” she laughs, Vickie nodding along as she talks.

You feel your cheeks heat to an impossible temperature, shaking your head incessantly as you continue to devour your dessert.

“Hey, at least he gave you a little souvenir,” Nancy says, nodding towards the shirt that he’d thrown at you, which now rests on the table top. You’d nearly forgotten about it. The fact that it was once on his gorgeous body, and now you have it, makes your head spin.

The topic of conversation eventually shifts, easing the pressure on you to answer their every question about Eddie. Your thoughts, however, linger on him. You were totally fucking into him, and you’re screwed. All he was doing was acting out a routine, probably something he does for every birthday girl or bachelorette that steps foot in here and has money to offer. That fact didn’t stop you from wanting him, though, your mind wandering to how it would feel to have those rings of his pressed deep inside of you, his lip ring cold against your mouth and the skin of your neck.

“Hello? Anybody home in there? Did you have too much to drink? Oh my god, are we gonna have to take you to the hospital on your twenty-fifth birthday?” Robin’s voice breaks you from your trance, your eyes widening in realization that you’d totally drifted off to outer space for a minute there.

“What? Oh god, no. I’m fine, sorry, just zoned out a bit,” you give them a reassuring smile, not wanting them to press you again about the too-attractive men that were all over you tonight.

“No worries, we were saying we were probably gonna get going, it’s pretty late,” Vickie jumps in, sticking out her thumb and motioning towards the door.

“Oh, yeah, of course! I’m getting tired anyways,” you affirm, moving to stand with the rest of the table.

You bid your friends goodbye, giving each of them a hug and thanking them for setting this outing up for you. You decide to hit the bathroom before you leave, declining Nancy’s offer of a ride home, so they all go on without you. You make your usual promises to text them soon and plan another get together before they leave you, stepping out into the cool night and going home.

Entering the bathroom, you find that you’re alone, much to your relief. You stare at yourself in the mirror, genuinely enjoying your appearance tonight. You wonder if Eddie thought you looked good, too. You let yourself wonder if he truly was interested in you like your friends were insisting. Sighing, you sit down on the toilet, pressing your palms to your cheeks and tugging the skin down frustratedly. You wish you’d been in a setting where you could’ve asked Eddie for his number or something, or even just actually had the chance to talk to him, to hold a conversation.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you finish up in the bathroom, making your way towards the door to leave. The chill of the air conditioning suddenly feels too cold, giving you goosebumps, and you quickly throw on the shirt Eddie had given you to keep yourself warmer. It’s the only cover-up you have, so, what else could you do? You totally don’t think about how it smells like him as you approach the exit. Your palm presses against the glass door, heaving it open in front of you. Heels step onto pavement, your eyes searching your bag to ensure you have everything. But as you’re looking, you bump into another figure.

“Oh shit! I’m sor-” you go to say, but the words evaporate into thin air when you see who you’d run into.

His leather jacket covers his arms and torso, dark brown curls draped over his shoulders. He has a cigarette dangling from his full pink lips, and a silver lip ring catches the light from the parking lot lamps for just a moment as he turns. Deep brown eyes meet yours, a soft expression on them. He recognizes you instantly, of course.

“Oh, hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention,” he apologizes sincerely, eyes raking over your frame, but not in a way that makes you feel small or uncomfortable.

“No, that’s my fault too. Sorry,” you admit, looking down at your high-heeled feet. You’re suddenly shy, and you wish you had some more liquid courage to down right about now.

“I’m Eddie, by the way. If you didn’t catch it earlier,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N,” you tell him your name, taking his hand in your far softer grip, bouncing them once in a greeting.

“Nice shirt,” he says, eyeing the black button down that rests loosely on your body.

“O-oh! Did you want it back?” you ask, embarrassment creeping up your spine. He wasn’t supposed to see you in his shirt, it was just to keep you warm until you could get home and change. Your eyes look towards the ground, suddenly too shy to look at him even though he’d quite literally been grinding on you an hour ago.

“Keep it,” he says, smiling brilliantly at you. “Looks better on you, anyways.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice impossibly quiet. A small smile tugs on the corners of your lips. Why is your heart pounding so hard?

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, sweetheart,” he continues as if reading your thoughts, and his deep syrupy voice is reassuring as he places a gentle hand on your arm. “Promise I don’t bite…. unless you want me to,” he says, giving you a cute little smirk.

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a giggle. You scrape the toe of your shoe on the concrete absentmindedly, looking down at it as Eddie watches you.

“Did y’have a nice birthday?” he asks coolly, his index and middle finger delicately holding the cigarette at his side as he leans against the wall of the building.

You feel your cheeks heat, and you curl your lips inward to hide your smile a little. “I had a great birthday,” you say finally. You shove your nerves down, reminding yourself of the way he was all over you before. Maybe your friends were right, maybe he really is into you.

You feel like the universe is giving you a chance here, giving you an opportunity to talk to Eddie one-on-one like you’d wanted. Better not fuck it up, you think as you prepare your next words. “There was this really hot stripper that made the day so much better…” you trail off, shyness still evident but feeling more confident under the way he eyes you up.

“Oh? Tell me more about him,” Eddie says, stepping ever so slightly closer to you.

“Well, he’s tall and muscular and so handsome, and he has really sexy tattoos…” you say, flashing him a brilliant smile as he watches you through hooded eyes, “and he just made me feel so special, and it’s such a shame I couldn’t get his number or anything…..” you sigh exaggeratedly, your doe eyes looking up at him.

Eddie smiles, and you swear it looks shy, like he isn’t used to the compliments or the attention. Like he doesn’t do what he does for a living.

“Well, I’ll have you know there was this girl… I hear it’s her birthday, actually, and she just made my shift so much better than it could have been,” he rambles. “She was just the prettiest thing,” he says, not breaking your gaze as he does.

“Oh, yeah?” you reply, tilting your chin up to him.

“Yeah,” he says softly, looking down the bridge of his nose at you. “And I think I can do her one better than just giving her my number,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, half-lidded eyes flitting from his lips to his eyes and back down again. He purses his lips in a smirk, stomping his cigarette out with the toe of his shoe.

“Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll show you?”

“Hm. That depends. You’re not a serial killer, are you?” you ask, teasing.

“Oh, shoot, sweetheart. You caught me,” Eddie says, holding his hands over his eyes and peering through his fingers.

You laugh, and he thinks about how he’d like to hear that sound a lot more. He reaches a hand out for you to take, nodding down at it. “Whaddya say? Care to join me?” he asks, and you meet his eyes as he peers through his bangs at you.

His open hand waits, silver rings catching the fluorescent light from the lamps in the parking lot. It beckons you, asking you to take it. The song from earlier rings in your head.

Reach out and touch faith

You take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “Lead the way, handsome.”

Eddie’s vehicle is nice, extremely nice, actually. It’s a black Jeep, black leather seats with red details and stitching. The money he makes at the club clearly pays off, you suppose. Hell, you’d seen how much cash he’d been thrown tonight alone - including what you’d contributed. He has a pair of red fuzzy dice that hang from the mirror, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself as you swat them once, making them sway where they hang.

“Are you laughing at my dice, sweetheart?” he asks, shuffling into his own seat.

“Oh, no. I’d never,” you say, biting back a smile.

His sparkling eyes don’t leave yours, pulling you in, refusing to let you go. You notice his tongue dart out to wet his lips, notice the way he leans ever so slightly towards you. The tension in the closed space suddenly grows palpable, like you could slice it with your fingernail if you reached out.

You don’t make it to Eddie’s place. You don’t even make it out of the parking lot.

You’re the one to close the distance between the two of you, leaning over the center console of the car to press your lips to his. He grunts in pleasant surprise, his hands finding their way to your cheeks as he deepens the kiss. Your heart is racing, thoughts going a mile a minute as you process the fact that this is really happening. You can feel the metal of the ring adorning his bottom lip as your mouth glides against his, the jewelry not getting in the way but remaining noticeable. His tongue doesn’t ask for permission, just slides its way past your parted lips. It mingles with yours, swapping spit back and forth in a heated encounter. You bite his bottom lip and tug, toying with the metal ring with your teeth. He whines, pulling away from you the slightest bit, eyes half lidded as he jerks his head to the side, motioning to the backseat.

“Get in the back,” he pants, “need you right here, right now.”

You oblige, opting to get out of the car and actually go in through the back door rather than climbing ungracefully over your seat. Eddie follows suit, crawling towards you like an animal stalking its prey, not satisfied till his face hovers over yours, his mouth dipping down to meet your soft lips. He captures them briefly before pulling away again, moving down further to press kisses to your jawline, your neck, your collarbone. You feel his tongue and teeth against the skin, biting, sucking, licking. You whimper beneath him, raising your hips to brush against his. The chuckle that leaves his mouth sends a shiver down your spine, one of his strong hands coming down to push your hips firmly against the seat.

“Such a needy thing, hm?” he tuts, looking up at you with those big doe eyes before he resumes kissing your neck.

His hand holds you in place like it’s easy work, keeping you still when your body tries to writhe beneath him. The smell of his cologne fills your nose, intoxicating as you breathe it in along with the whisper of cigarette smoke from the one he’d had mere minutes ago. The chain around his neck dangles low, the guitar pick pendant brushing the dip between your breasts that your dress leaves partially exposed.

You remember the way he teased you inside the club, remember the way he let you tug on his tie, the way his hips gyrated above your lap. You grow wetter at the memories, more than ready to actually get to have him now. You pull his shirt off of your shoulders, playfully tossing it at him, mimicking the way he’d tossed it at you. His eyes go wide at it, a hand pressing to his forehead as he pretends to swoon, making you laugh. The shirt gets discarded to the floor, Eddie leaning back over your frame. He shoves the neckline of your dress down, freeing your tits for him. You went braless tonight and you’re thanking yourself for it, the ease with which he takes one of your peaked nipples into his mouth sending you reeling. He sucks on one, then the other, his hand always toying with the mound of flesh that isn’t currently being entertained by his tongue.

“Eddie,” you whine, arching your chest further into his touch.

“What is it, baby?” he purrs, the hand on your hip now skirting down your thigh, reaching the hem of your dress and hiking the fabric upwards.

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, not begging for anything specific but just for more.

He looks at you, leaning back on his calves, hands raking over your thighs as he slides back.

“Look how pretty you are,” he muses, eyes trained on the lace between your thighs. Your dress is pushed up so far, leaving you almost entirely exposed.

He presses his thumb over your clit, just a thin excuse for fabric separating his skin from yours. You suck in a sharp breath, bucking your hips slightly into his touch.

“Oh, she wants me to touch her so bad, huh?” he teases, finger stroking over the growing wet patch on your underwear.

“Please,” you whine again, gasping when Eddie hooks a finger into your panties, yanking them down.

His big hands delicately take your heels off of your feet, setting them on the floor of his car. He tugs your panties completely off of your legs then, letting them land wherever he tosses them. His leather jacket comes off as well, being thrown into the front seat. His black t-shirt hugs his biceps well, the fabric clinging to his body in a way that makes him so much more enticing.

He swipes a finger up through your folds, collecting your slick before bringing said finger to his mouth. He sucks on it, tasting what he can of you and moaning. You’re awestruck watching him, feeling like your heart is going to beat out of your chest when his eyes meet yours, dark and needy. He crouches down swiftly, settling himself so his face is right in front of your waiting pussy. His tongue sticks out, licking up your folds in the same pattern his finger had just followed. You cry out in pleasant surprise as he begins eating your cunt, a present perfectly unwrapped just for him. He presses his tongue inside of you, velvety muscle tasting every inch of you.

His hands grip your thighs, holding your legs open for him. Dark brown eyes look up to meet yours, and the sight is unholy. The way his lips attach to your clit and suck, the way he purposefully makes a show of dragging his tongue through your puffy, swollen lips, never once breaking eye contact. It makes you want to worship him, a divine presence for you to praise.

Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares

“Eddie…” you whine, screwing your eyes shut when his tongue flicks faster over your clit.

He simply hums in response, a pleased noise that vibrates against your core. He knows what he’s doing to you, he can tell by the way you whimper and writhe beneath him. His tongue stays focused on your clit as he brings two fingers to your entrance, slipping them easily inside of you. You gasp, tugging on his hair in desperation. He groans, a deep, throaty noise that catches you by surprise.

“Keep fuckin’ pulling my hair, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your wet heat. “Wanna know how good ‘m makin’ you feel.”

Your back arches into his touch when he curls those fingers inside of you, perfect pink lips still pursed around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your orgasm is quickly approaching, tension building and building in the pit of your stomach the more he winds you up.

“Eddie, I- I’m gonna-” you pant, fingers still entwined in his curls, eliciting more pleased sounds from him.

His fingers only move quicker in response, curling inside of you and bringing you right to the edge, letting you plummet into bliss. You clench around him, squeezing his fingers over and over as he works you through your high. You jerk your hips, suddenly overstimulated, and Eddie takes the hint. He removes his fingers, his mouth unlatching from your sensitive clit.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he grins, flashing those perfect white teeth at you.

You flush, scrunching your face in embarrassment before he leans down to kiss you again. You can taste yourself on him, and it makes you throb. You suck lightly on his tongue, letting out a breathy laugh when he grinds his hips against you in response.

“Fuck, angel, need to be inside you…” he murmurs, mouth pressing kisses to the shell of your ear.

“Mmm, not yet,” you reply, capturing his lips in another quick kiss. “If I don’t have my mouth on you in the next five minutes I’m not gonna survive,” you purr, mouthing at his jaw, sucking the supple skin of his neck.

He groans, raspy and deep, letting you mark him as your fingers make quick work of the button and zipper of his tight jeans. His erect cock hangs heavy in the thin fabric of his boxers, finally letting you gauge how big he is. You swallow, hand wrapping around the outline of his cock and squeezing. Eddie inhales sharply, dropping his head to rest on your chest. His arms tense as he props himself up, his resolve threatening to crumble with the way your thumb teases his tip through cotton fabric. You can feel the pre-cum leaking from him, sticky strings of it attaching to the pad of your finger as you tease.

“Baby, mmmmfuck,” he moans, looking back up at you with pleading eyes.

“Sit back,” you instruct him, removing your hand from his bulge. “Let me take care of you.”

He just about combusts when you clamber to the floor of the spacious back seat, tugging his boxers from around the taper of his hips. You let them drop to his ankles, pooling around his shoes. His cock springs free in front of you, heavy and leaking for you. The trimmed patch of hair at the base has your mouth watering, his balls hanging beneath like the perfect temptation. You open your mouth, making a show of sticking your tongue out as you tap the tip of his cock against it. You give teasing licks across the head, lapping up the pre-cum and tasting him properly.

He whines above you, his head thrown back and the veins in his neck pulsing. His previously cocky demeanor is gone in this moment, giving in completely to how desperate he is for you. It seems to be a give and take, both of you worshiping each other like the holiest entities.

You take him fully past your lips, saliva pooling beneath your tongue. You bob your head, coating him with your spit. The girth of him stretches your mouth uncomfortably, and you move slowly as you adjust to taking him. One of his hands flies down to your hair, gripping it to give himself some sort of leverage.

The sight of you on your knees for him, tits hanging free on your chest and your perfect lips sucking him right in has him feeling like he could melt into the seats of his car. Your big doe eyes peer up at him, feeling like a shot to the fucking heart.

“God, baby, your mouth feels like fucking heaven,” he praises, watching himself disappear into your perfect mouth.

You hum in satisfaction, picking up your pace. You take him until his head hits the back of your throat, making your throat restrict as you gag around him. The whine that comes out of him is sinful, there’s no other word to describe it, and it has you pressing your thighs together for some relief to your core that already aches for him again. His modest muscles strain against the tight fabric of his t-shirt, every inch of his body trying to maintain composure and failing. You grip his balls with one hand, holding the base of his shaft with the other. You pump his cock in your fist in tandem with how your mouth bobs on his length, other hand squeezing the squishy flesh of his balls simultaneously. He almost jumps off the seat his hips buck so hard, forcing another gag from you as his cock hits your throat again.

Your nose brushes the curly hair on his pubic bone, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mouth off of him, regaining your control. You continue what you’d been doing, both of your hands and your mouth working him closer and closer to release. Strings of curse words leave his perfect parted lips, the hand in your hair guiding the movements of your head ever so slightly.

“Babybabybaby,” he rushes out, a strangled groan escaping with the words. “Don’t wanna - fuck - don’t wanna cum yet. Need to fuck you, pretty girl,” he says, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

You press soft kisses to the head of his cock, the skin still flushed a darker shade of pink, ready and waiting to be inside of you. He pulls you up onto his lap, hands immediately cupping your breasts and squeezing as he presses a rough kiss to your lips. Your dress remains bunched up at your middle, your glistening pussy rubbing right against Eddie’s cock, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Eddie stops the slow rocking of your hips suddenly, as if startled.

“What’s wrong?” you urge, meeting his eyes that hold a guilty expression.

“I totally don’t have condoms…” he says sheepishly, biting his lip.

“Oh - I mean, we don’t need to use one, if you’re okay with that. I’m on the pill and I - I’m clean, and stuff,” you ramble, wondering why you’re finding it so fucking hard to get words out now.

“I’m clean too. Promise. I, uh, don’t exactly do this often,” he looks at you shyly, the demeanor unfitting for him. The confession that he doesn’t do this often admittedly makes your heart swell, all of those nervous thoughts you’d had about him earlier, about being part of a routine, washing away gradually. “But if you’d rather we don’t, it can wait till next time,” he continues.

“Next time?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Y-yeah. I mean, I mean if you want to see me again after thi-” you cut off his nervous stammering with a firm kiss, your fingers cupping his chin as you claim his mouth with yours. His nervousness makes him so much less intimidating, taking him down from being this larger-than-life entity, an unobtainable stripper who sees attractive women every night, to just being… a regular guy. A cute, sweet, charming guy who’s also insanely sexy.

Pulling away, he smiles lazily at you, kiss-drunk and awestruck. “Yes I want to see you again. And yes I want you to fuck me, right here right now,” you reassure him, your sultry gaze enough to make him do anything you could ask of him.

“Fucking deal, babe,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his chest to you. His tattoos are on full display, and your eyes rake over him, your cunt pulsing with all of your filthy thoughts. He smirks at you, clearly liking the way you drink him in, biting his lip as you raise your hips slightly so he can position his cock at your entrance.

You sink down onto him without a warning, the two of you gasping in unison. You grip his shoulders for leverage, the stretch to fit him slightly uncomfortable despite your extreme arousal. You work yourself down, down, down, slowly until you’re fully seated on him. He sits heavy and thick inside of you, making you ache with an enticing kind of soreness. Your walls flutter slightly around him as you wiggle your hips around, getting used to the feel of him. His hands grip your hips, his lips parted and his eyes screwed shut as you start to find your bearings on top of him. You dip your head down, rolling your hips on him as you suck a brutal hickey into the column of his throat. Your teeth gnash at soft skin, tongue soothing the sting afterwards. A low growl escapes him, fingers squeezing your doughy flesh as he starts to rut himself into your soaked cunt.

Breathy moans leave your lips, your jaw hanging open as he fucks into you faster. Your tits bounce in front of his face, and he wants to take them into his mouth and stay latched on forever. Perfect swells of skin, all for him to touch and kiss and suck. His hands grip the soft globes of your ass as his mouth sucks the skin of your chest, making you moan when his fingers squeeze hard.

You’re so fucking full of him you feel delirious, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every deep stroke he delivers to you. His name is tumbling from your mouth in a rhythmic pattern, over and over, like a prayer. You really can’t get that damn song out of your head from before, and it makes so much sense why he chose it to be his.

Your own personal Jesus

You want to praise Eddie right beneath the roof of his Jeep. Want to shout his name from the rooftops, make the whole world know how good he’s fucking you right now. You want to follow every word he says, every command he gives you. You want to pray to him every night before you go to bed, you just want to worship him. The way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his lips suck on your neck make you feel like you’re being worshipped, too. He sucks and squeezes and fucks like this may be his last opportunity to, like he’s savoring every possible bit of you and committing you to permanent memory.

You bounce on his cock, gaining some more control as Eddie’s thrusts slow down with fatigue. You take the reins, cupping his face in your hand and kissing him hard. Licking into his mouth desperately, humming when his tongue meets yours. But then he somehow takes control again, making you pliant for him even as you ride him with vigor. He squeezes your jaw, letting your mouth fall open before he spits into it, a string of his saliva dropping onto your tongue. You swallow it, not needing to be instructed, and you swear Eddie gets even harder inside of you. You recall Eddie’s comment from earlier, when Jonathan had given you the shot. ‘She knows how to swallow.’

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, jaw tight and the veins in his neck prominent as he stills your bouncing on top of him and thrusts up into you.

He goes so deep you’re left seeing stars, lurching forward and gripping his shoulders for stability. Your body feels like it could crumple into itself if you let it, every one of your limbs overtaken with pleasure. You feel a familiar tension building higher and higher in the pit of your stomach. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin and the occasional smacking of your lips against his fills the vehicle, the air growing humid with every hot breath that leaves your mouths. The sounds he makes are downright obscene, any bit of composure he’d had completely slipping away for you. His thrusts get faster, faster, and you let your fingers drop down to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the sensitive bud.

“Ohhhh fuck baby,” Eddie moans, watching the way your head tips back as you pleasure yourself. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Eddie,” you cry, thighs trembling as your orgasm crawls closer and closer.

His fingers squeeze your hips impossibly tight, one of his hands letting go only to deliver a swift smack to your ass. You whine, cursing under your breath as the pads of your fingers circle your clit again and again. Eddie fucks you ruthlessly, pulling almost entirely out just to sheathe himself inside of you again, taking your breath away. The friction and the fullness is euphoric, your body giving way completely to pleasure as your second orgasm finally rips through you. You’re screaming out for him, chanting his name again and again as you come undone on his cock. You soak him, lewd, wet noises coming from you as he continues to thrust beneath you.

“‘M gonna cum so fucking hard, baby,” he rasps, looking at you through his lashes. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside. Inside Eddie, please,” you rush out, begging him to fill you with his seed. He lets out a strangled whine at this, gripping your flesh even harder.

You swear his eyes roll back into his head, hips stuttering and his cock pulsing as you feel the warmth of his cum painting your insides. His final thrusts are sloppy as he gives you every last drop of his cum, your mouth hung open in a silent moan at the overwhelming sensation of him gliding against your sensitive walls.

His chest is heaving with each breath he takes, his palms splayed out across your lower back, holding you close to him when you slump forward. Your legs feel like jelly, weak and trembling from exertion. Your mind is fuzzy in the best way, a smile on your face when Eddie tilts you to look at him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes roaming over your entire face, loving how blissed out you look. “Wanted to have you all to myself during our whole show tonight, god…” he continues, smirking a little as he shakes his head.

“I could say the same to you,” you reply, looking at his lips as you talk.

His mouth catches yours in a lazy kiss, tongues dancing together sloppily. His fingers rub soothing circles on your skin, slowly guiding you up and off of his softened cock.

“So, do I have to shove more dollar bills in your pants for all of that, too, or?” you joke, earning a laugh from Eddie that presents itself in a harsh puff of air from his nose.

“Nah, that’s on the house, baby,” he says, giving you a lopsided grin.

You both sit in silence for a moment, your delicate fingers tracing patterns up and down his arms. He looks at you like you’re an angel sent from the heavens, those chocolate brown eyes admiring you in the kindest way.

“Do you, uh, still wanna come back to my place?” he says finally, that ill-fitting nervousness creeping back into his voice.

“Hmmm,” you pretend to ponder, pulling your dress back up over your breasts and tugging the hem to rest normally on your thighs. “What’s in it for me?”

“I have a stripper pole in my living room,” he says with a smug grin. “I’ll give you your own private show.”

“Sold.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stripper!eddie munson #stripper!eddie munson x reader #stripper!eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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upsidedownwithsteve · 11 months

Text

Simmer #2

CH.2 Ice Box | The Menu [4.1K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

The first week at Jim’s went somewhat smoothly.

You figured out a bus that would take you out of town and to the diner when it was raining or too dark, a rusty old thing that rattled the entire journey but it meant you got there a few minutes before your shift started. The summer was still present, a growing thing that became hotter and bigger as June turned to July, the sidewalks baking, the skies an endless blue between storms that you didn’t really mind.

You got to meet the rest of the team that first morning, bumping into a girl as you made your way through the side door meant for staff. Robin was another waitress, a little blunt, really pretty and more than helpful. She took over immediately, waving away your explanation of having to report to Eddie, leading you into a back office that was crammed with a desk and a line of lockers. It took a while for her to find a key to one in a security box but eventually you had a locker, a name badge and a uniform that Robin promised was the cleanest one she could find.

It was a powder blue thing with red trim, a little on the short side for a dress and it had you pulling at the hem until it covered your thighs more. The collar was white, starchy, the apron that tied around your waist matching. Robin grinned when you reappeared with it on, straightening your name badge for you before handing you a new pad and pen.

“C’mon,” she tilted her head towards the kitchen, the smell of coffee and maple already pouring out of it. “I’ll introduce you to everyone else.”

There was Nancy, another waitress who helped Jim manage the diner’s taxes when she wasn’t back at college in Indianapolis. She seemed sweet, a little quieter than Robin, more eager to keep her head down and garner the best tips.

Argyle was the boy you’d seen in the kitchen the day before, a smiling boy with the sleekest hair you’d ever seen. He offered a fist bump and a warm greeting, telling you to let him know of any medicinal preferences that he could help you out with. He was on prep duty in the kitchen and Robin claimed he could chop a full onion in ten seconds when he wasn’t busy eating the product.

Then there was Jonathan. A quiet guy who mostly worked the coffee bar and helped on dish duty when the kitchen was busy. He made a mean latte, you were told, and if he liked you, he’d use his special coffee beans that he kept hidden in the back.

Steve was front of house, mostly waiting tables, sometimes sitting at the rarely used host desk. Handsome and polite, he waved at you from atop a kitchen counter, already chewing on a slice of toast that he ended up sharing with Robin.

Going by the staff schedule that was pinned to a board in the office, there seemed to be more employees you’d yet to meet. A Chrissy Cunningham, Jason Carver and someone called William although it was scored out and had Billy written next to it. There was Dustin too, pencilled in at the bottom as a weekend busboy.

All in all, the staff at Jim’s diner were pretty cool. There was a man you hadn’t met yet, someone called Murray that was supposed to be the kitchen manager but apparently, he preferred a more work from home type of schedule. Then there was Eddie Munson.

Line cook, although in a diner this size, he was pretty much the only cook. Territorial over his kitchen, you’d been warned that the boy tended to keep to himself, liked to communicate in grunts and grumbles, and was usually perpetually moody. He had a lot of opinions over music, over food, over the right spice to use in apple pies. And he didn’t tend to take to new people, much to your dismay. The morning you arrived ready to work, Eddie greeted you with a grunt from behind a coffee cup, dumping your uniform into your arms with a name badge that had “Chicago” written in permanent marker, a sure sign that Jim had forgotten your name.

So the first week went without much talking to Eddie, you keeping to your space between the tables and him keeping to the kitchen. Music blasted through most of the shift, with the boy working with his head down, curls escaping his bun, his apron tied right around his waist. Every now and then, when you came to the hatch to collect plates and orders, you’d hear him hum along to the radio, an upbeat tune that never matched the frown on his face. And if he happened to catch you staring, well, the lines between his brows only deepened.

And despite the sour faced regulars who only grunted and held their cups out when you offered more coffee, working at the diner wasn’t the worst job you’d had. Tips were okay, Jonathan made you a latte every morning you shared a shift and the sizzle of the stoves became a comforting background noise as you pottered around the tables, smiling shyly and taking orders with the utmost concentration.

It was fine, good even. Up until your first run in with Mr Creel.

The older man frequented the diner regularly, coming in early mornings and late nights, leaving whatever job he did to spend hours at a time at the end of the diner bar. He sat under the television screen, a dead eye stare on whatever it was showing, only holding his mug out for coffee refills.

He was particular about being left alone and even more particular about his coffee being black. So when you accidentally topped the caffeine up with creamer, you finally heard the old man’s voice. He yelled something awful, his voice croaky from hardly being used, a raspy, horrible thing as he uttered ugly words.

“Stupid girl,” he hissed, knocking over the cup of coffee until the insides ran along the bar and dripped onto your white sneakers. “Are you dumb? Huh?” The man glared at you as you tried to form words, mouth tripping over an apology you weren’t sure he deserved anymore. “How difficult can this job be?”

Steve came to your aid, brow furrowed and tongue bitten as he held back the things he wanted to say to the customer. But he saw the tears in your eyes, your gaze a little unfocused and glassy, his hand on your elbow as he coaxed you into leaving the situation.

“I got this,” he muttered, a rag in hand, ready to mop up Mr. Creel’s mess as he pointedly ignored the old man’s whispered insults. “Take a breather, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

You didn’t hesitate, scampering away with coffee sodden sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. You’d have to thank Steve later, the tears were close to falling and you were adamant they wouldn’t escape while you were still on the diner floor. So you barrelled into the kitchen without much thought, not bothering to yell ‘doors’ or ‘corner,’ just desperate to get out of sight. It was a slow morning, a few pancakes on the griddle, some leftover waffle batter in a bowl by the stove, another one full of eggs beside it. Apart from the sounds of food cooking, sizzles, pops, the sound of the radio, it was quiet.

Pushing your back to the tiled wall, you weren’t able to do much to escape the heat that always filled the kitchen. The back of your uniform scratched at your neck, an itchy warmth that stuck to your skin and made the tears come a little easier as Mr. Creel’s words echoed in your head. You knew it wasn’t worth overthinking - everyone had warned you that the man was a perpetual thunder cloud, always gloomy, always looking for an excuse to yell. But still, you blinked one too many times and your glassy eyes spilled over, lashes sticking together with tears as you stuttered over a heaving breath. Your face scrunched, falling with too much emotion and you made a noise akin to a whimper, a wet sounding thing that you could keep in.

You didn’t hear someone come back in from the fire exit, the brief smell of cigarette smoke mingling with the heat and the fiery barbecue scent of lunch hours brisket cooking. Eddie scowled at the sight of you by his station, back to the wall, hip pressed to the stainless steel table. Your head was bowed, the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes and when he turned down the radio - just slightly - he could hear you sniff.

The boy frowned, somewhat uncomfortable, that crinkle that was always between his brows deepening. He used his wrist to sweep the hair out of his eyes and he gestured to the walk-in behind you, even though you couldn’t see. "Uh, normally we cry in the freezer."

You looked up, mortified. Your cheeks were red hot, a burn from the embarrassment of being caught and the frustration from the customer who was surely still at the bar, uncaring of the state he’d put you in.

You sniffed, swiping hastily at your cheeks. "What?"

The boy sighed, an impatient noise that Robin had already told you not to take offence to. He nodded at the freezer again, lowering the heat on whatever it was he was cooking in a comically large pot. "In there. That's where we have our breakdowns."

You stood, aimless, wondering what you were supposed to do with that information. The freezer? Wouldn't Hopper be looking for you?

The boy scrunched his face in annoyance and you thought he was going to return to his recipe, but he turned off the burner and rounded the station. He tilted his chin at you, signalling you to follow. "C'mon, come wi' me," he murmured.

It was the most he’d said to you since the day you’d turned up with your resumes and some hope in your chest. You blinked, watching Eddie stomp down the aisle between the stations, big combat boots a strange congrats to his chef whites. You ran a little to catch up, hip catching the corner of a cart filled with fresh fruit and a bowl of proofed dough, trying not to stumble into the back of the boy. You almost did when he stopped dead and pulled at the door of the giant walk-in, a wall of cold air hitting your both square in the face.

Stacks of frozen food sat on metal shelves, lines of cut meats, boxes of iced over vegetables, already cut and prepped. Eddie waved a hand inside, gesturing for you to enter. Your breath turned visible as the temperature dropped by twenty degrees, ice cold and raising goosebumps on your arms. You half expected Eddie to shut the door and leave you alone, but you were surprised when he walked in after you, the soft thump of the door closing after him.

Silence enveloped you both, the noise of the kitchen, the broken AC, the diner all disappearing. You breathed out a sigh of relief, breath crystallising between you and the boy who was eyeing you warily, wondering if you were going to keep crying. He didn’t say anything, he just leaned against a shelf and tugged a rag from his back pocket, wiping off his hands.

It was easier to breathe without the heat of the diner, the constant steam from the kitchen, the way the sun hit the windows and made the whole place too hot. The boy watched you, still cautious, waiting for your chest to stop heaving and you to stop sniffling. When you did, he peered at you through his bangs.

“Better?”

Still embarrassed, you swiped hastily at your cheeks and tried to pretend you weren’t crying, wiping the evidence of the apron that held your pad and pen- and now splashes from Mr. Creel’s coffee tantrum. “Yeah, m’fine. Thanks.”

The boy nodded, lips pressed together as if he didn’t know what else to say. Neither did you, still hot cheeked and mortified, staring wide eyed at the freezer door and for a brief second, you wondered if the rest of the diner would hear you from behind the thick freezer door if you just so happened to let out a yell. Maybe that’s why Eddie said this was the breakdown space. You guessed you’d find out sooner than you thought.

And just as you were getting ready to push the door back open, Eddie peered up at you from where he was busy inspecting a silver scar on his wrist. “Creel’s a real asshole, don’t let him get to you.”

Surprised, you stopped in your tracks and turned. The leftover tears on your cheeks weren’t quite ice, but they left cold trails across your face that felt too obvious. You pushed against the apple of your cheek once more, fingers digging in a little too meanly as you tried to get rid of the evidence that Eddie already saw. “I know,” you nodded. You sniffed again. “Just— took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Eddie nodded slowly, like he was thinking over your words. “You gotta toughen up, kid.” He swept by you, lemongrass and some cologne that was hidden behind the smell of basil and spice. His shoulder knocked yours. “Told you you wouldn’t last in the kitchen.”

—————

Some would call it stubbornness, others would call it spiteful, but you were more determined than ever to fit in and work hard at the diner. Eddie’s comment made a lasting effect on you and you tried every day to smile through the shit and be a little bolder, leaving the shyness behind with Chicago and every other failed opportunity. Plus, the tips came a little easier if you flashed a smile and some flirt.

You cleaned up the smashed burgers and soggy fries that were smeared into the floor after a family of tourists swept through the restaurant, you wiped down tables, refilled the salt shakers and when you collected orders from Eddie at the kitchen hatch, you made sure to use the towel to pick up the hot plates. The last time you’d suffered a burn, Eddie had rolled his eyes and scoffed. But when you came back for the next order a few minutes later, an ice pack was sitting waiting.

“You okay?” Robin’s side nudged up against yours in greeting at the cutlery station, familiar and friendly.

You smiled, nodding, wrapping napkins around knives and forks. Robin picked up a bundle to help and you could tell by her unsettled fidgeting, she wanted to ask something. “Are you okay?”

The girl made a face and squinted at you, all nervous charm and nervousness. “Yeah, yeah— I’m good. So good. It’s just, uh—”

You blinked, waiting, both of you moving out of the way when Jonathan appeared with a set of headphones over his ears, grinning at you both as he dumped more clean cutlery into the drawers.

“—you know how it was both of us on the late tonight?” Robin continued once Jonathan disappeared. You nodded, still sorting out the utensils, frowning when the freshly cleaned sets burned your fingertips. “Well, I kinda got asked on a date tonight and oh my god, okay, like, I know you’re new but I’ve been waiting on this girl literally forever and—”

It was easy to smile at Robin’s enthusiastic rambling, your shoulders losing the tension they usually held as you listened to her talk. “Who is it?” You asked curiously.

“It’s like, holy shit? She’s interested in me? I mean— oh.” Robin cut herself off after she realised you’d spoken. Her cheeks burned, pink covering her freckles and she covered her face with her hands, embarrassed at her own excitement. “Nancy.”

You beamed and nodded, already knowing about the flirting that went on during their shared shifts, the way Robin looked at the other girl, the way Steve rolled his eyes fondly behind his friend's back.

“That’s sweet,” you told the girl, happy for her. “You guys goin’ somewhere nice?”

“Uh, yeah,” Robin smiled, bashful, before she flicked her gaze to you again, nerves kicking back in. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask. Would you mind if I left early?” The girl gestured to the quiet diner, a little more peaceful now the dinner rush was over. “I know I was supposed to stay until close with you, but this show starts at like, nine? So I was just wondering if it’d be okay with you if I—”

You cut the girl off with a hand to her forearm, stopping her nervous gesturing. You smiled again. “Hey, it’s totally okay. I can handle it.”

She grinned, face lighting up with genuine happiness as she squealed and grabbed your arms, pulling you into a crushing hug despite the bundles of cutlery you held to your chest. But her excitement was contagious and you grinned too, happy to have made Robin happy, happier to feel like you had a real friend.

“I owe you!” She gasped, “thank you so much! You’re on with Eddie ‘til close, and maybe Jonathan? It’ll be fine! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She gushed as she pulled off her apron and rushed to the office.

The rest of the time went quietly, as did most of the graveyard shifts. Families and couples left after eight and as the evening headed towards night, the clock approaching twelve, the diner was empty apart from one lone trucker in the corner nursing an extra black coffee and a cinnamon roll. So you headed into the kitchen with the last of the plates, proud of the way you balanced all five of them over your forearms, only wobbling a little. You even remembered to call out as you pushed the door open, even though there wasn’t much happening.

The hustle and bustle had slowed to a lazy stroll, the radio still on but much quieter, another sixties song crooning from the speakers. Eddie was washing down his station, knives sharpened and put away, the stovetop grills seeping in the sink full of bubbles.

“Floors have just been mopped,” he told you without looking up. “Careful.”

You nodded, always startled when he spoke, his voice much softer than he looked. It was honeyed whisky, syrupy smooth. You managed to slide the dishes into an empty sink without much fanfare - nothing spilled, nothing smashed - and you were planning on refilling the ketchup dispenser when your stomach growled, unreasonably loud.

You clamped a hand over it, an awful flush crawling up the back of your neck that you knew too well. Embarrassed, you tried to laugh it off, avoiding Eddie’s gaze when his head shot up. Wide eyed, he appraised you, watching as you gave him a wide berth as you shot for the door. Before you could make a break for it, the cook dropped his cleaning rag and sighed.

“Have you ate?”

You stopped, almost tipping over your own feet as you spun back round to face him. You wondered if you misheard him, if he was maybe talking to someone else in the kitchen you hadn’t noticed but Jonathan was whistling outside of the kitchen hatch, cleaning down the coffee machine and no one else was on shift.

Still, you asked, “what?”

Eddie frowned, like he was upset about repeating himself. But he was already pulling a chopping board out from the racks underneath the workbench. “I said, have you ate? You sound like a dying whale.”

If you weren’t so mortified, you think you would’ve been offended. You hadn’t eaten though, not since you’d managed to shovel a bag of chips into your mouth between a bus load of tourists stopping off for a milkshake and Jim’s famous wings. But you weren’t sure why Eddie wanted to know so you shrugged, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t showing on your face.

The boy just sighed, like he always did, and gestured to a stool that sat across from his station. “Sit,” he ordered gruffly before pulling out half of a baked loaf from earlier. “You like mustard?”

“What’re you doing?” You hadn’t moved, standing shell shocked by the door, your stomach still yelling at you.

Eddie turned to you with that same frown, forever looking annoyed at your presence. Now he was brandishing a butter knife, more curls than ever escaping his bun. He really should wear a hairnet.

“What’s it look like?” He grunted. He pointed at the stool once more. “C’mon. Mustard?”

You walked over slowly, like you were approaching something wild and unpredictable. Maybe you were. The stool squeaked as it scraped across the tiles, and you eyed the boy warily as you pushed yourself onto the chair across from him. “Sure,” you mumbled, watching as he slathered slices of sourdough with mustard and a little mayonnaise.

“You should eat properly.” Eddie scowled. “You don’t eat nothin’, gonna make yourself pass out in this heat.”

You seemed to forget your shyness as you frowned right back. “How would you know?” You demanded.

Eddie scoffed and suddenly you forgot altogether that you and this boy didn’t really talk. He was rolling his eyes at you as he layered on some cheddar cheese and salami, not asking you before he added some prosciutto and lettuce. “Because you scramble in and out of here all day chasin’ your own tail. I watched you inhale that bag of chips earlier like a goddamn raccoon.”

You squirmed not loving the comparison but knowing that he probably wasn’t far off in terms of likeness. But still, your frown matched his. “I don’t scramble,” you murmured.

Eddie scoffed, a breathy, disbelieving thing that made him raise his eyebrows. He was moving around his station with a grace you couldn’t fathom, speedy and gentle with each movement. He drizzled a little honey over the second slice of bread before stacking it on top, an impressive display of flavour in each layer before he sliced it down the middle.

“Oh, yes you do,” Eddie shot back. “Like a squirrel.” He placed the sandwich on a plate Jonathan had already cleaned and pushed it towards you before deciding to add another little pot of honey beside it.

“I thought I was a raccoon?” You asked him before you could help yourself. “Thank you,” you added quickly, looking down at the plate. Your stomach grumbled again, your mouth watered.

Eddie shrugged, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. “Either rodent will do,” he told you. “And you’re welcome. Now eat.”

You didn’t argue anymore, tucking into your snack with a shy sort of wariness. You’d hardly spoken to the boy before now and yet here he was, preparing you food. Just a sandwich, but it took more effort than any snack you’d ever made yourself. You took a bite, eyes closing at the flavour and you hummed in appreciation. When you opened them again, Eddie was at the sink, his back to you but you could see from the tilt of his head that showed off how he watched you from the side of his eyes.

“Oh my god—” you cut yourself off, humming again, a delighted little noise that you couldn’t help let out. “This is amazing.”

You ate until Eddie was done cleaning, using your crusts to dip into the honey, mopping up everything off your plate until it was empty, your legs swinging happily from the stool. If you were alone, you would’ve danced. You were sure you saw him fight a smile as he returned to the bench, brows raised at your full cheeks, your happy eyes, the crumbs on his once clean station.

“Squirrel to chipmunk,” he noted, gaze trailing over your face. You swallowed quickly, cheeks heating up once again and you dropped your eye line to the table as you wiped your hands on your apron. “Good?” He asked.

“Delicious,” you told him with a nod. “Thank you. Again. You didn’t have to do that.”

Eddie swung a dish towel over his shoulder and ducked his head, curls falling loose around his face and you watched as he slid his clean equipment back into their rightful place. “Was just a sandwich, no big deal.”

It was just a sandwich. But you’d soon come to realise it was something so much bigger than you’d ever have thought.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb

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andvys · 7 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 19

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of drugs, alcohol consumption, reader getting high, spin the bottle.... don't hate me,

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!reader, Robin Buckley x Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: The last high school party ends in a way you never thought it would

Word count: 8k+

A/N: @hellfire--cult Roe, you are such a big help, thank you so so much for always helping me with ideas and dialogues, ilysm

series masterlist

The dreamy look in Chrissy’s eyes isn’t very hard to miss, it’s been there for weeks now. The smile that lingers on her soft features matches the lovestruck eyes. Lost in her thoughts, she completely dismisses the things you and Heather are talking about. You don’t take it to heart.

It took you a moment but once you noticed how her eyes light up and how her cheeks flush a deeper color every time Robin comes around, you realized what was happening to your sweet friend.

And by the look on Robin’s face every time she sees Chrissy, you know that she is feeling just the same.

Chrissy giggles more than usual whenever the taller girl speaks – she could say anything to her and Chrissy would smile and look up at her dreamily with her cute red cheeks. She probably doesn’t even notice how flustered Robin gets or how she stutters over certain words sometimes.

You are happy about Chrissy’s newfound feelings for her, knowing that Robin reciprocates them. She doesn’t have to hurt anymore.

“Are you gonna wear that to the party?” Heather asks, eying the dress on your frame.

You stop applying mascara and pull back to look at her reflection through the large mirror on Chrissy’s pink wall.

“Yeah, why?” You ask, looking down at yourself – self consciously.

She shrugs, closing the magazine she was previously reading, she throws it on Chrissy’s bed.

“It’s a shame that Munson isn’t coming tonight, I know he would’ve loved you in that dress,” she says, winking.

Chrissy stops brushing her hair and turns her head to look at you.

The look on Heather’s face is smug, she is twirling her curls with her finger, wiggling her brows at you.

It is a shame that he isn’t coming but tonight is his last campaign before he gives up his beloved Dungeon Master position to someone else, Gareth probably. High school is over and Hellfire club will no longer be a part of his life – he will still play but it won’t ever be the same again.

You are no longer Cheer Captain and Eddie is no longer the Dungeon master.

There is something sad about having to say goodbye to your High School days but there is also something exciting about stepping into the unknown and getting out into the world.

You and Eddie celebrated by having lunch with your mom and his uncle after the graduation ceremony. It was nice, you had fun but a part of you couldn’t rest, knowing that Steve’s parents couldn’t make it to see him graduating.

You haven’t seen much of him either, you saw him in the crowd and on stage when he got his diploma but that’s all, you couldn’t find him anywhere else afterwards. You couldn’t congratulate him.

A part of you hopes that he will be at the party tonight, though you doubt that he will come.

You don’t feel your cheeks warming up, nor do you notice the look in your own eyes. You shift uncomfortably, breaking eye contact, you lean closer to the mirror again. You place the mascara bottle back in your little bag and reach for the powdered blush.

“Oh honey, you don’t need any more of that,” Chrissy says, giggling as she touches your hot cheek.

You roll your eyes and shake your head at them, “you are both insufferable,” you mumble, “it’s a normal dress, he wouldn’t think anything of it.”

Heather giggles behind you, “oh my sweet y/n,” she sighs as she kneels down behind you, carefully wrapping her arms around you, she leans her chin on your shoulder, “you are so oblivious.”

You wonder what she would think if she found out that Nancy would agree with her words.

“And so blind,” Chrissy adds.

“Maybe our girl needs a pair of cute glasses,” Heather says, running her fingers through your hair.

“I don’t need glasses!”

“Sure, you don’t.”

“Heather,” you mumble, raising your brows at her, “how about we talk about you and pizza guy.”

“Pizza and weed guy,” Chrissy corrects you with a smile.

Unlike you, Heather doesn’t blush or get flustered. She smiles and shrugs, “what about us?”

You and Chrissy face each other with surprised looks on your faces.

For weeks, you have been speculating about Heather and Argyle, wondering if the two of them are a thing or not. Heather had been secretive about the meetups. At first, you both thought that she continued seeing Billy but then you saw him making out with a girl from the cheer squad.

Apparently Heather and Billy have never been a ‘thing’ in the first place. It was a ‘no strings’ kind of thing until one of them got sick of the other – which, you could easily suspect Billy to be the one who got sick but it was the other way around.

Heather had stood him up for Argyle. Billy didn’t give much of a reaction to it but unfortunately, he set his eyes back on you – much to your dismay.

“There is an ‘us’?” You ask in surprise.

Heather smiles brighter, she bites her lip and leans back, “maybe,” she grins, “I mean he just asked me to be his girlfriend the other day,” she says casually as she looks down at her nails.

You and Chrissy gasp at her words, you both turn around to face her and squeal in excitement as you both throw your arms around her, catching her off guard. She falls down against the carpet and you both join her, giggling.

“Oh my god!” Heather laughs.

“Heather has a boyfriend!” Chrissy says in a sing-song voice.

“We gotta celebrate it,” you say, squeezing your friend tightly.

“Oh we’re going to,” Chrissy smirks at you.

“I guess we’re getting drunk tonight.”

You would be lying if you said that you aren’t feeling the slightest bit nervous. You haven’t had any alcohol since the night you went on a date with Ray and that night ended badly.

By the time you actually make it to the big graduation party at Tina’s place, it’s already in full swing. The music is picked and chosen by her best friend Faithe – who strictly listens to 80’s pop music; Duran Duran, Wham!, Madonna – especially Madonna.

Your friends scatter away from you the moment they lay their eyes on Robin and Argyle – Argyle who scoops Heather up in his arms and kisses her in front of everyone to see. You can’t help but laugh.

Robin and Chrissy disappear in the crowd, giggling and leaning closer to each other, both sporting deep blushes on their faces. Cute.

Now that you’re alone, you can’t help but wish that you didn’t come. You wish Eddie was here. You are not mad at them for leaving you behind – they’re in love and in their own little worlds. You don’t blame them.

Though you can’t help but feel out of place and awkward standing here in the doorway, all by yourself.

Is that how your friends always felt when you would leave them just to be with Steve?

With a sigh, you walk further into the house, pushing through the crowds until you make it to the kitchen. You feel relieved to see that it isn’t as crowded as the living room or even the hallway.

The kitchen counter is littered with various drinks and snacks, greasy junk food that will surely look more appealing to you when you’re drunk. You grab yourself one of the red solo cups. Just as you’re about to pour yourself some punch, you get interrupted by a hand closing in around your wrist.

“Don’t drink that shit.”

You look over your shoulder, only to roll your eyes in annoyance when you notice the smirk on his face and the gross look in his eyes.

“Fuck off, Hargrove,” you mumble as you push your hand off your wrist.

“Let me make you a real drink, baby.”

Once again, you have to roll your eyes at him. You place the cup down and turn around to face him, “what and spike it with drugs?”

He raises his brows, lifting his hand up, he places it on his chest – of course, he wears the shirt unbuttoned, well almost.

“What do you think of me?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you murmur under your breath.

His blue eyes glisten with something, the smirk of amusement never falls. He takes a step closer – at least, he smells good.

“You look like you can use a drink, let me make you one. It’s better than the shit you were about to drink,” he says as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey behind you, purposely leaning closer until his chest is almost pressed against yours and you can feel his minty breath on your skin. He glances down at your lips.

“Billy.”

“Yes, sweet thing?”

You put your hand on his chest and push him away, “you’re not slick, stop trying to get in my pants.”

He chuckles and leans back again, he unscrews the cap of the glass bottle.

“Tell me,” he reaches for the red up and pours in some of the whiskey, “don’t you want to have a good time?”

“Uh, I am having a good time,” you lie.

He chuckles again and places the bottle back on the table before he reaches for another. He gives you a doubtful look, “you don’t look like you’re having fun.”

“I just got here.”

“And you already look like you wanna get out.”

You clench your jaw and look away, not saying anything.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Eddie is not my boyfriend,” you mumble, narrowing your eyes at him.

Eyes smug and lips curled into a smirk, he shakes his head, “how’d you know who I was talking about?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff.

“Is he not here tonight?” He asks as he holds out the cup to you.

You look down at the mixed drink, hesitating before you give in and take it from his hand.

“No,” you shake your head and lift the cup up to your lips, ignoring the way he looks at you as you take the first sip. The strong and bitter taste trickles down your throat, you can’t help but squint your eyes, “wow, that’s strong,” you say before taking another sip.

Billy groans, “shit, and here I thought I could make him jealous enough to finally confess his feelings for you.”

You swallow the drink just in time before you start choking.

You have been good at avoiding that topic after your conversation with Nancy.

“Are you okay?” He chuckles, stepping closer to pat your back gently, “do you need me to make you feel better?”

“Billy!” You groan as you push his hand off.

“It’s so hot when you say my name–”

“Leave her alone, Hargrove.”

Steve.

His voice sends shivers down your spine but it also fills you with relief.

Billy is not a threat, at least not to you. He might get on your last nerve but he is not Ray. Still, you are always annoyed by his presence.

Billy’s eyes light up like the ones of a kid on christmas morning. His smirk widens and he turns around.

Eddie may not be here but Steve is. Steve who wants you just as much as Eddie does. Steve who got jealous at every small interaction you had with Billy – Steve who still gets jealous.

Steve glares at Billy, with his hands on his hips, he waits for the latter to step away from you.

They look at each other and you are surprised to see Billy so relaxed, the sight of Steve usually makes him angry. Tonight, he seems to be in a different mood though. The scowl is replaced by a smirk.

He looks back at you before he steps away, “if you wanna have a good time, you know where to find me,” he winks.

“No thanks,” you scrunch your face up in disgust.

He chuckles and finally walks away, passing by Steve only to halt beside him. Billy stares him down, another chuckle of amusement falls from his lips. He slaps Steve’s shoulder, “lighten up, Harrington. Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.”

Steve shrugs his hand off, he clenches his jaw and glares at the blond.

Billy shakes his head, “you sure need to blow off some steam,” he smirks, raising his brows, he gestures to you, “she needs it too – although, I’m sure Munson helps her with that,” he whispers with a smug look on his face.

“Fuck off,” Steve grumbles, though he can’t stop himself from feeling jealous.

Surprisingly, Billy drops it and walks away. Though, both you and Steve know that this isn’t the last you will see of Billy tonight.

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs in annoyance before he makes his way over to you.

Still with the drink in your hand, you stand in the same spot as before. Staring at him, unknowingly making him nervous.

“Hey,” he smiles.

He takes in the sight of you in your little black dress, your hair is falling softly over your shoulders, the front pieces are secured with glittery clips, your lips are a soft pink, shiny with gloss. Your manicured fingers are wrapped around the red solo cup.

You look beautiful. He wants to say, but he’s not sure if that’s something you want to hear from him again.

“Hi,” you smile up at him.

“Did your friends ditch you?”

“Yes, actually,” you chuckle, “Chrissy is hanging out with her… new best friend Robin and Heather is with Argyle.”

“Oh, the new guy with the long hair?” He asks, gesturing to the hair.

“Yeah!”

“Ah,” he nods.

Steve looks better, there are no dark circles under his eyes anymore, though his eyes still hold the same sadness as before.

You didn’t expect to see him here tonight. Him and Tommy aren’t friends anymore and now that he and Nancy are broken up, he doesn’t have her either. Steve always hated coming to parties alone so that leaves you wondering…

“Are you here with someone?” You ask, feeling a rush of jealousy at the thought of him being on a date with some other girl.

He shakes his head. Watching the way your features soften and your shoulder slump with relief when he says ‘no’.

“You’re here by yourself?”

“Yeah, I-I didn’t want to come but it’s the last high school party,” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t want to miss it.” I didn’t want to miss you. He reaches for one of the beers on the table, though when he opens the can and takes the first sip, he scrunches his face up in disgust. He hates lukewarm beverages, especially alcoholic ones.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

“You don’t either,” he chuckles, eying the bored expression on your face.

“Well, getting drunk by yourself isn’t fun.”

Steve’s eyes are soft in a way they had never been before, not even when you just started dating, when things were still good, when he was still good to you. And just his eyes alone, the look in them is enough to cause a whirlwind of emotions inside of you.

You remember your night together. The one back in december. The one that was supposed to be your last night together. The one when you said goodbye – the one that was supposed to be your last goodbye.

There will never be a goodbye for you and Steve, not really.

“But… we could spend some time together.”

The look in his eyes is one of surprise. You may have been kinder to him in the past few weeks, but he still didn’t expect you to want to spend time with him.

“Y-You want to spend time with me?”

A mixture of emotions rush through him. Excitement, happiness but also nervousness. The last time you had spent a night together, it ended with you both crying.

You look around and he just now notices the sadness in your eyes.

The last time you went to one of Tina’s parties, he got smashed and he broke your heart. You want to replace those memories with new ones. As though it could ever kill the old ones.

“You don’t have to say yes, there’s plenty of girls who’d want to–”

“I wanna spend time with you.”

A shy smile appears on your face when your features relax again.

He smiles back, though he can’t help but wonder where Eddie is.

“Eddie isn’t here tonight?”

He watches you closely, the way your lips set into a slight pout and your brows furrow.

“No.”

Did something happen? He wonders. Where you go, Eddie goes. It’s odd to see you without him after seeing you with him, everywhere.

“Right so… Uh, what should we do?”

“What do you mean?”

You give him a smirk, placing the drink back on the counter, you lift your hand up. Steve can’t help but follow your movements with his eyes, only to stare in surprise when you lift your hand and reach for something… in your bra. He just now notices how the locket rests perfectly between your boobs.

He clears his throat and looks away with a blush on his cheeks.

“Are we getting drunk or high?” You hold the joint in front of his eyes, giggling when his eyes widen even further.

He grabs your hand and pulls it down, trying to hide the joint in your hand.

“Y/n!” He yells in a whisper, looking around to see if anyone saw, but there is no one looking at the two of you, there is no one in the kitchen at all. He turns back, looking down at you with a bewildered look on his face.

“Or both?” You giggle, “Eddie and I do both sometimes.”

He knows that it’s not only your looks that have changed in the past few months – it’s nothing drastic, it’s only different clothes, different makeup and your hair that you wear differently – maybe your perfume too. Clearly, you have changed too. You will always be a sweet girl, the one that is too kind to the world despite how harshly it treated you in the past, but he wasn’t aware that your opinion on drugs has changed.

He shouldn’t be surprised about the joint in your hand. You do hang out with Eddie, after all. Though, he didn’t expect you to be so open about this. Now, he can’t help but wonder if there are other things that you do with Eddie.

Steve won’t ask questions that he might regret asking. Instead, he agrees to both and pushes any thought that only leaves him upset, away. He wants to have a good night. He wants to have one good last high school party with you.

So, he takes the joint from you with the hand that is still holding the beer and with his free hand, he reaches for yours. Interlocking his fingers with yours. He feels his heart skipping a beat when you don’t pull away.

“Let’s do both.”

A smile tugs at your lips, you grab your drink from the counter, “let’s go outside.”

As Steve leads you out of the kitchen, he pulls you even closer to him before you walk into the crowded hallway. Neither of you notice the eyes that have set on you.

“Would you look at that?” Carol smirks as she turns her head to look at Tommy, who is looking down at his beer in boredom.

He lifts his head, looking down at Carol, he raises his brows at her.

She rolls her eyes and nudges her head in your direction.

“Oh,” he chuckles when he sees the two of you.

“Let’s make this party more interesting.”

Chrissy is drunk, not drunk on alcohol, drunk on something else.

Robin is talking about her favorite bands, the ones she wants to see live at some point. She’s waving her hand around as she talks – rambles. Robin’s cheeks are flushed but Chrissy doesn’t know whether it’s from the heat, the alcohol or something else – she hopes that it’s from something else.

Chrissy nods along with a smile on her face, admiring the girl in front of her. Loving the way Robin leans closer to her so she doesn’t have to scream over the loud music. She can’t unsee the small differences between them; Robin’s nails are painted black, silver rings adorn her long fingers while Chrissy’s nails are painted a baby pink color, a single golden ring is on her middle finger. Robin’s clothes are dark, Chrissy’s clothes are bright and girly. Their music taste is not the same, though Chrissy is open for changes. She loves how different they are.

Robin’s hair is short, her curls are messy, her bangs are long and they need to be cut, Chrissy can’t help but raise her hand to brush them away from her eyes so she can see her beautiful eyes.

Robin’s eyes widen at Chrissy’s action, the already pink blush on her cheeks takes on a red color and the blonde girl in front of her can’t help but giggle to herself when Robin stops all her rambling and starts staring at her instead, in silence.

Neither of them know how the other actually feels, if they weren’t so scared, they’d see the obvious signs.

They look into each other’s eyes, both trying to fight the smiles off their faces. Neither of them notice the girl that stopped in front of them with a worried look on her face.

“Hey, lover girls. Have you seen y/n?”

Both of them tear the gazes away from one another, clearing their throats and looking awkwardly at the brunette.

“W-What?” Chrissy asks, feeling grateful for the foundation she had put on her face earlier tonight. She can feel her hot cheeks.

Heather looks around the room, trying to spot you in the crowds but you are nowhere to be seen.

“I haven’t seen her since we got here.”

Robin straightens her back, a worried look takes over her face as well. She hasn’t even greeted you properly, too focused on the blonde beside her.

“Oh,” Chrissy mumbles, getting up to look around as well, “do you think Eddie came?”

“No, he takes his campaigns very seriously,” Robin says with wide eyes, “he got mad at me for even asking if he’d come. It’s the cult of Vecna tonight – whatever that means.”

“I’ve looked for her everywhere but–”

“She’s playing spin the bottle with Carol and the others.”

All three of them turn around to face the girl that chimed in. Tina.

“She’s what!?”

Tina chuckles in amusement, she nudges her chin into the direction of the dining room.

“Looks like she’s having fun,” is all she says before she walks off again.

The three girls share a look of confusion before they make their way over to the other room. Trying not to bump into any of the drunken girls who are dancing carelessly.

They all expect to walk in on a very drunk you. Because, usually it takes a lot to convince you to join a game of truth or dare, never have i ever and let alone spin the bottle. You don’t like kissing strangers or risking the possibility to kiss someone you cannot stand.

Though when they walk into the room and they see you sitting in a circle with a few people you don’t like, they can’t help but halt in their tracks and stare in confusion.

Tommy, Carol, Billy, Nancy, Jonathan, and a few girls from the cheer squad are sitting in the circle. None of them which you can stand – well, except for Jonathan, maybe.

And then there is Steve, who sits beside you.

You look… sober. Maybe a little intoxicated but very far from drunk or high. Although, when Robin takes a closer look at you, she notices the redness in your eyes, maybe you are a little high.

“What the hell,” Chrissy mumbles, looking at all the people in the circle.

Your lipstick is still intact, you probably haven’t kissed yet.

Carol is the first to notice the three girls, a smirk appears on her smug face, “oh, why don’t you join us?”

You turn your head, suddenly feeling flustered when you see your friends. Heather’s face says it all, ‘what the fuck?’

“No thanks, Carol.”

Billy smirks at Heather, “oh come on, Heather. Don’t you want a little kiss?”

She scrunches her face up in disgust, “no thanks, Hargrove. I’ve had enough of you.”

Chuckles sound through the room and Tommy claps his hand on Billy’s back, “you got burned.”

Billy chuckles, “not really, I’m gonna kiss someone else tonight,” he smirks, turning to look at you.

You don’t even know how you let yourself get roped into this. This wasn’t even supposed to be a game of spin the bottle, it was supposed to be truth or dare – though Tommy changed his decision at the last minute and managed to convince all the others as well. You didn’t want to chicken out, so you stayed and luckily, you didn’t have to kiss anyone yet. Neither did Steve.

For the first time tonight, you feel relieved that Eddie isn’t here.

You glance at Robin and Chrissy who stare at the men in the circle – both sporting looks of disgust. You smile in amusement. They both take a seat on the loveseat, clearly not interested in joining the game.

“Heather, come on,” Tommy smirks, eying her up and down, “it’s the last time you get to play one of these silly games. After this night, we’re all adults.”

“No thanks,” Heather snorts as she crosses her arms over her chest, “you still need to grow some, Hagan.”

This time it’s Billy who laughs at him, he leans closer, “burned,” he chuckles.

Nancy rolls her eyes, “I’m done playing.”

“Oh but Nancy, the game hasn’t even started yet,” Carol smirks at her, stopping her from getting up by placing her hand on her upper arm.

Nancy glares at the redhead and pushes her hand off. Jonathan looks tense beside her, he sits there awkwardly, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here.

How did Carol even convince these two to join?

Tommy and Billy look like they are having the time of their lives. The cheerleaders look… bored. Carol looks smug as always. You and Steve? You are both trying not to burst into giggles.

When Carol found the two of you in the backyard, you were laying on the grass, passing the joint back and forth and laughing about things that weren’t even funny. She got you at the right time, you and Steve would have said yes to anything in the states you were in. You were looking for amusement and now, well, now you got it.

Sarah kisses Tommy. Tommy kisses Hailey. Carol looks pissed.

You guess that the rumors about them are true. They are broken up. But what is new? No one has a messier on and off relationship than these two.

Hailey, one of the girls from the cheer squad, is the one who always makes up all these rumors that the people love so much. Her bright red hair makes her skin appear even more pale, though they match with the red lips which are now smudged. She spins the bottle and finally it lands on the one who has been waiting to be kissed.

Billy.

You are pretty sure that Billy had a taste of the redhead before – there aren’t many girls he hasn’t been with yet. He gets around.

You scoot a little closer to Steve and glance at him in disgust at the makeout session that is happening in front of your face. Gross.

Steve can’t help but chuckle at the look on your face.

“Dude,” Tommy laughs at his friend, “calm down.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Robin and Chrissy leaving.

When Billy pulls away, he gives Hailey a pat on the cheek. She giggles at him and licks her lips as she sits back in her place.

“This is gonna appear in my nightmare tonight,” Steve whispers to you.

You hold your hand in front of your mouth as you laugh at his words.

When Billy spins the bottle, your night changes for the worse.

You watch it spin with a pounding heart, for the first time, you watch it nervously.

Please don’t let it be me, please don’t let it be me, please don’t–

The glass bottle stops spinning and it’s pointing right at you. Oh god. No.

The music in the other room is still playing just as loud as before, though the laughter from Tommy and Carol somehow sounds louder than Billy Joel’s voice blaring through the speakers.

You don’t notice the way Steve tenses up beside you or the way his eyes flash with anger and jealousy.

“Fuck yes,” Billy chuckles.

You only feel the despair in your body and the annoyance that rushes through you when you look at a smug Billy, who looks like he’s won the lottery. His eyes are filled with excitement, his lips that are now red thanks to Hailey’s lipstick curl into a smirk.

“Come here, y/n.”

Steve clenches his fist and his jaw. The fire inside of him is burning.

“Yeah, y/n,” Carol tilts her head as she takes in the hesitation on your face, “don’t be such a pussy.”

Of course these words would come back to you. It’s what you said to her when she refused to kiss Lily, who already left after a few rounds.

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your drink before you put the cup down.

Heather, who is still around, gives you an apologetic look. God, you are glad that she doesn’t like him anymore, you would have preferred to be a ‘pussy’ than kiss some guy that your friend likes.

You meet Billy in the middle.

He doesn’t even hesitate to cup your cheeks with his hands. He doesn’t lean in, right away. He looks over at Steve for a split second, almost laughing at the look on his face. He turns his attention back on you.

You really don’t want to do this. You really don’t want to kiss him. You’d honestly prefer to kiss anyone else in this room except for Billy Hargove. Anyone. You feel the eyes on you. You feel Steve’s eyes burning into your skin. You feel Carol’s eyes on you. Heather’s and even Nancy’s.

Billy smells like cigarettes, whiskey and cologne.

He smashes his lips against yours and kisses you. You close your eyes to make it less awkward. You begrudgingly kiss him back. He slides his hand down to your waist and pulls you closer until your chest is pressed against his.

You want to roll your eyes at Tommy’s whistle and at Carol’s giggle but you ignore them.

Billy kisses you roughly – it’s not as bad as the kiss you have had with Ray but you still can’t shake the fact that you are kissing him. At least, his lips are soft. They taste like strawberry – probably thanks to Hailey and her strawberry lip gloss that she always wears over her red lipstick.

Billy’s lips move slower now but still just as deep, you feel his breath on your skin, his touch that is surprisingly soft. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he is trying to savor every second of the kiss.

You make the mistake of letting yourself get lost in your thoughts. Suddenly, it’s not Billy kissing you anymore, it’s another man.

It’s his lips that you are kissing, his shoulders that you are touching, his ring that is digging into your waist, it’s him, it’s–

Billy. You are kissing Billy. You instantly pull away when the realization sinks back in, you push him away and pull back.

Billy chuckles, he looks at you through hooded eyes and leans closer, “that made me really fucking hard,” he whispers.

You scrunch your face up in disgust and turn away from him, wanting to escape him quickly. You glance at Steve, who is looking at the ground with an angry and powerless look on his face. Shit.

“Well, that was one hell of a kiss,” Tommy laughs, not looking at you, not looking at Billy but at Steve, he is looking at Steve and he is smirking.

“You must feel stupid, huh Harrington?”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

He pays you no mind, his attention is solely on Steve. And the others are staring at him as well. You can’t help but glance at Nancy, she’s looking at him with an almost pitiful look in her eyes.

You quickly reach for the bottle, wanting to kill the awkward tension in the room.

This night can’t get any worse. You think to yourself.

You spin the bottle as you inwardly curse at yourself for letting Carol convince you to join this stupid game. You didn’t even want to kiss anyone, let alone Billy. You didn’t want to upset Steve. You didn’t want to think about–

“Oh!” Carol laughs loudly, clapping her hands together.

Hailey snickers next to her, looking at you in amusement.

“Oh damn,” Tommy snorts.

Your heart begins to race in your chest but you don’t even know who it’s pointing at yet. You have a feeling who it is. And when you see the apologetic look in both Jonathan’s eyes and Heather’s eyes, you know.

You blink and take a deep breath before you glance at the bottle.

The bottle that is pointing right at him. Steve.

The girls around you are giggling, giving you smug looks. Carol is staring at you expectedly. Bitch.

Steve is staring at you already, suddenly, every ounce of anger has faded away. His eyes are wide, lips parted as he looks at you.

This isn’t ideal. This shouldn’t have to happen this way. But, he would be lying if he said that it’s something he doesn’t want. Maybe, this will be the last time. Maybe, this will be the only chance he gets to feel your kiss again.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers to you, but you are already moving closer to him.

You won’t walk away now. It’s exactly what they want, they want to see you running away. But you won’t run away, not now, not yet.

You ignore the pounding in your chest, the butterflies that dance in your stomach when you lean closer to him. He looks at you, wide eyed.

You don’t want it to happen this way but would you deny a kiss with him, right now? No.

“It’s just a kiss right?” You whisper as you gaze into his hazel eyes.

How could it ever be just a kiss?

You are the one to move even closer to him. You are the one to cup his cheeks.

Steve’s heart is surely about to explode.

He hates that this has to happen like this – that it’s caused by a game. That this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

Despite the others in the room, the loud music, the eyes on you. You both fade out everything around you.

It’s just you and him now.

You lean in, he leans in.

And for the first time in a long time, your lips brush against Steve’s and that is enough to set all your insides on fire. Just a simple touch.

You peck his lips, you only peck his lips and Steve is already in bliss. But then you smash your lips against his and suddenly, he is back in heaven. The light is shining again, the warmth is flooding back in, the sweetness of your lips is enough to mend his heart that he broke himself.

He doesn’t hesitate for a single second to kiss you back. He cups your cheeks and pulls you as closely as he can.

Everything around him stops existing.

All there is, is you and him.

He feels you, he feels your touch, your lips, your kiss.

He feels your love that is pouring back in.

He feels you.

You, you, you.

Everything falls back into place again.

Your lips are moving ever so softly with each other. Desperately but still passionately. Your lips still taste like cherry, his still taste minty.

His heart is racing, yours is too.

He holds you tightly but gently, he doesn’t want this moment to end, he doesn’t want to stop kissing you, he never wants to stop kissing you again.

This is right. This is what he is meant to do. This is all he’s ever dreamed of and more. He missed this. He missed you so much.

But the moment could never last long enough and he crashes back into reality when you pull away in need of air. Your lips part from his, your touch leaves his body and everything that is left behind is the kiss that lingers – the kiss that will linger for the rest of his life if this is the last one he gets from you.

His lips tingle and he fights the urge to touch them.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes, he doesn’t want to crash back into a world where you aren’t his anymore.

When he does open his eyes and he sees the look on your face, the shock in your eyes, the emotions that are still there, the love. He knows, he still has a chance.

He can still have you.

He can still fight for you.

He can still get you back.

But, for now, he lets you walk away when you make up some weak excuse and rush out of the room.

Heather doesn’t even hesitate to follow you out, calling your name and rushing after you. She passes by Argyle who is talking to a group of guys, she gives him an apologetic look.

You push past Jason Carver, pushing him out of the way.

“Hey!” He yells, “watch where you’re going!”

“Shut it, blondie,” Heather snaps at him.

You grab the leather jacket that you have left on the counter earlier and finally leave the house. The fresh air calms you down in an instant, you embrace the silence and feel grateful that there is no one out on the porch, right now.

No one except for you and Heather.

She shuts the door behind her, she crosses her arms over her chest when the chilly wind touches her bare arms.

“Are you okay?”

You lean against the railing and sigh.

“Yeah. You should go back inside, Heather.”

“No.”

She refuses to leave you alone when you’re upset.

“I’m okay.”

“But–”

You turn back around, “I’m okay,” you repeat, trying to smile at her.

“I promise, I just need a moment to myself after all of… this.”

“Are you sure?”

The sincere look in her eyes makes you smile, genuinely, this time.

You nod.

“But if you need anything, you tell me and I’ll take you home and we can have a girls night with Chrissy. Robin too.”

Your eyes soften.

“We should actually do that sometime.”

“We should.”

“Now go back inside, I’m sure your boyfriend misses you.”

She looks down and smiles, “alright..”

She turns back around, hesitantly.

“I can’t believe you used to kiss Billy all the time.”

Heather turns around to glare at you, “don’t ever mention that again.”

You giggle at the look on her face.

“I can’t believe that you kissed Billy and Steve in one night,” she smirks, winking at you before she walks back inside, leaving you by yourself.

“Right..”

You want to forget about the kiss, the one with Billy at least.

You reach for the pack of cigarettes in your pocket, walking over to the porch steps, you sit down and light a cigarette. You don’t smoke very often, only when you’re stressed.

You enjoy the silence, though, it doesn’t last very long. Someone steps out on the porch and you inwardly pray that it isn’t Steve or Billy.

The footsteps give it away, it’s neither of them.

You lift your head to look, it’s no friend of yours either.

It’s Nancy Wheeler standing in front of you – no, sitting down beside you.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

For a moment, you both sit in silence. You offer her a cigarette, to your surprise, she takes one and lights it up.

“So, did you start paying attention?”

You shake your head with a small smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sure you don’t,” Nancy chuckles.

You turn your body towards her, you lean back against the railing and look at her curiously.

Nancy crosses her legs and smokes the cigarette, giving you a tight lipped smile.

“Still oblivious, I see.”

You’re not fully oblivious. Not anymore.

“Y-You think that Eddie and I like each other.”

“No.”

You furrow your brows.

“I don’t think, I know.” She shrugs, “I guess, I just wonder why you and Eddie aren’t dating.”

You’re a little flustered by her words.

“Because he is my best friend?” You mumble as you stub out the cigarette and look down.

“Yeah, that’s what you already said, last time and it still doesn’t look like it.”

You give her a questioning look, you stare at her, and suddenly, she feels flustered.

“Why do you even care?”

Nancy hesitates, she looks down at the cigarette between her fingers. Her shoulders are slumped but she is still tense. Nancy pities Steve because she can see how much he is suffering, how much he loves you, how much he still wants you but she can’t deny that you have been in pain for so many months, some of the pain which has been caused by her. The least she can do is help you, help you understand, help you to see.

“I’m just, I’m sorry.”

She folds her hands in her lap after stubbing out the cigarette. She glances at you, almost shyly and with a hint of guilt in her blue eyes.

“What?”

She closes her eyes, she fidgets with her fingers and takes a deep breath before she opens her eyes again.

“For everything.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry for taking him away from you. I-I saw the way you two looked at each other back there. I guess, I just now realized what I’ve ruined.”

“It would’ve been someone else if it wasn’t you, Nancy.”

She furrows her brows, looking at you, almost bewildered.

“No, I don’t think so. He loves you.”

“Well, that realization came a little too late.”

“Did it?” Nancy asks, carefully.

You hesitate before you say ‘yes’.

She nods.

“But, why do you always bring Eddie up?”

“What?”

“You always talk about.. Eddie,” you frown, “do you want him now?”

The thought of it angers you. Does she always want what you have?

“Do you want Eddie now that you realized that Steve isn’t the prince you thought he was?”

Her eyes widen, “no! No, it’s not that! I-I just, I was jealous of you, not because of Eddie,” she says, shaking her head at the thought of Eddie. “I wanted what you two have.”

“A best friend?”

“That’s the thing.. I never thought you two were just… friends.”

You wait for her to continue.

“I wanted that hand holding in class, that cute bantering in the hallway, someone to lend me a shoulder whenever I need it, I wanted to be free like you were. Showing my love openly – and I found that in Jonathan. We started of as friends b-but that would have never been enough. He taught me about true love, about feeling cared for, and he waited for me. He waited and waited and I hurt him over and over by not breaking up with Steve.. Does that sound familiar?”

“Oh.”

By the look in your eyes, she knows that you begin to understand a little. Your eyes that soften when you think about him.

She opens her mouth, but she never gets to say the words she’s been meaning to say all night, because the man you have been talking about steps out. Interrupting your conversation.

Both you and Nancy turn to look at him.

He looks taken aback by the sight in front of him. He figured that you weren’t by yourself, he didn’t expect Nancy to be the one out here with you.

“Uh, can we talk y/n?” He asks, still looking between the two of you with a confused look on his face.

You and Nancy can’t help but share a look of amusement.

“Yeah, sure.”

Nancy pushes herself up with a sigh, she glances at you and gives you a small smile before she walks past Steve and walks back into the house.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, he stands there, awkwardly for a moment.

He still hasn’t told you about the break up but, he knows that you know. Everybody knows.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “are you?”

He walks towards you and you get back up on your feet, looking up at your ex boyfriend. Your ex boyfriend that you just kissed.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks.

You shrug, “you just kissed your ex girlfriend in front of your other ex girlfriend.”

His mouth set in a hard line before he looked away with a chuckle.

An amused huff escapes you. You try to walk around him but you trip and stumble, almost falling backwards but his large hands catch you, he wraps them around your waist and pulls you closer. This time you stumble forward, right into his chest.

He uses the opportunity to wrap his arms around you fully.

“Let’s not repeat your fall from years ago.”

You gape at him.

“Can’t you let it go?!”

His eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Fuck no, I’m not letting it go. I saved you and you panicked and pushed me down – I still have the scar on my hip from it!”

You roll your eyes, chuckling.

“What did you want to talk about?”

He doesn’t answer your question, instead, he takes your hand and leads you away from the entrance, away from the porch lights, away from the place where people can see you.

You don’t question him, you follow him, just the way you always did.

Behind the house, there is no light but the moon shining down on you. And Steve can’t help but want more of what he just had.

He whispers your name and you know, you know what he wants.

“Will you forgive me for what I’m about to do?”

“What–”

He cups your cheeks and leans down to kiss you. He needs more of what he just had.

You gasp against his lips but you so easily melt into the kiss.

And the moment you kiss him back, he wraps his arms around you and suddenly, his hands are all over you, your back, your waist, the back of your neck. He is pulling you in, closer and closer until there is no space left between the two of you.

You are kissing him. You are kissing him back. Not because of a game. You are kissing him because you want to kiss him. You want him.

His heart soars.

Everything inside of him screams in joy.

He needs you, he needs you closer and closer.

He kisses you desperately.

Your tongues meet and the kiss gets more feverish, more passionate than before. Maybe more passionate than ever.

You whimper into the kiss and he is sure that it’s enough to make his heart explode.

You kiss him just as desperately. You are needy, like him.

Warmth blossoms Steve’s chest. His heart is feeling whole for the first time in a long time.

You are both breathing heavily in between kisses. He can’t get enough of you. How could he ever get enough of you? How could he ever throw this away? How could he ever push you away?

His feelings, his emotions seem to get in the way – they seem to get in between the two of you because you can feel it, you can feel what he is thinking about.

Because you begin to feel it too. The more you open your heart to him, the more you let him in – the more it hurts. You curse at it, you curse at the pain and at the dark stain that he had left on your heart.

You savor the kiss, just like he does.

He savors it too. Your kiss isn’t a promise. Not even your love is.

He destroyed too much.

And though you don’t want it, you push him away and ignore the way you already miss him and the feeling of his lips on yours.

“W-What are you doing?” Your voice is shaky and your eyes are glossy. You look up at him with saddened eyes.

Steve’s hair is disheveled, his lips are puffy from the kissing.

And he looks defeated because the look on your face tells him that this won’t mean anything.

“I-I’m sorry.. but I-I just needed to do that, at least one last time.”

You frown at his words. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he can’t help but think that you look cute.

“You can’t just kiss me after everything!” You snap at him and push past him, walking away from him.

“Dolly!”

“No!”

next chapter

tagging mutuals

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx @take-everything-you-can @nemesis729 @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @chrissymjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #stranger things angst

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

Text

the seasons pass (but you never do) - e.m.

summary: he knew your reputation. he knew you had you way with half of hawkins. it was never going to end well - but that didn't stop him.

warnings: reader is NOT a good person (need to emphasize this), billy hargrove is involved and sort of ooc, smut, oral (fem receiving), a lot of hurt, not a 'happy' ending, reader has severe issues with self-esteem (not in the usual obvious way), very self-sabotaging reader. mentions of reader having adult relationships with multiple male characters. NOT A 'HAPPY' ENDING. minors dni - 18+

pairings: eddie munson x fem!fuckgirl!reader (with mentions of steve x reader, johnathan x reader, and billy x reader.)

wc: 8.4k+

a/n: i cannot emphasize enough - the reader in this fic is very toxic. she is not a good person. this does not end well. also, be wary, as billy is used as the easiest companion who can align with her being a bad person, so she is friends with him. this probably won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it's been a year in the works! thank you to anyone who reads. <3 also, HUGE thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for making that banner for me. i am undeserving of your talents baby.

oh, also, here's a fun playlist to go along with it.

SUMMER, 1988

It was always going to end this way. It’s how it’s supposed to go - you met him, you wanted him, you got him, you left him. There was never any illusions on your part as to what this was. He knew your reputation. He knew the ending. You knew the ending.

It was always going to end this way.

There was no amount of flowers he could have got you, no amount of midnight rendezvous to change this course. It never mattered how his laughter wound your chest tight or how his fingers fit a little too perfectly between yours. You didn’t do long-term relationships, and he always asked for too much from you. You could give him a summer, no more and no less. He knew that, you knew that, all your previous flings knew that. There was only one ending ever in sight for the two of you.

So why does it hurt so much when you catch sight of him around town with her?

Chrissy Cunningham is beautiful. She’s all shades of sunrise pinks, flavors of sweetness that spur stomach aches - the epitome of enchantment and a type of softness you couldn’t compare to. And when you see her arm in arm with him, you can see that beauty of hers painted across him. Her pinks paint roses on his cheeks, her laughter etches dimples into his cheeks you’d only ever seen in the late hours of the night. She makes him happy. She makes him look lovesick. She doesn’t hide him in the darkness, she flaunts him in the light, and he looks devastatingly beautiful without the shadows.

You should be happy for him. It shouldn’t phase you; you didn’t bat an eyelash when Steve Harrington had taken to dating every other girl in the town after your spring with him. You never winced when Johnathan Byers started dating Nancy Wheeler after a flirtatious fall with you. Billy Hargrove had been on the same page as you, ready to brave a chilling winter with you and accept when the ice melted along with the infatuation, returning your winks when you spotted each other with your newest one night stands in shared bars.

But Eddie’s summer stuck to your skin. No amount of showers run cold, no amount of new partners who you won’t allow to spend the night, wash you clean of him. The change in the leaves only amplified the ache left in your chest when August turns to September. The flowers weren’t the only things wilting when September flashes into October.

You miss him terribly, and it’s all your fault.

You let him stick around far longer than you should have. You let his wandering lips slot between yours and you let him sleep at your side from the very first night. When it was all said and done, you were the one that broke every single imaginary rule you had set for yourself, and the blame was yours to carry. Eddie Munson was never going to be a three month memory to wipe away with the steam of your mirror. He’d done it, he’d left his mark. He’d managed to make the streets of Hawkins feel cold and empty in his absence, to make everything dull in comparison to your life before him.

You empty the last of your glass of wine, all bitter and tinged on your tongue, and chuckle internally as you watch Eddie’s hand’s find Chrissy’s hips from across the bar. Go figure.

SPRING, 1987

The Hideout was busy as ever, booming with business on a Saturday night as you reentered the scene. Your ‘date’ for the night was still outside the bar, surely not even entertaining the thought of coming back inside.

He hadn’t taken to you breaking the news that it was over kindly.

“You never let them down easy, do you?” Billy chuckles as he leans against one of the standing tables near the bar. He had seen the look in your eyes when you dragged the nameless boy out the front door; he’d seen it plenty of times before. Starry eyed boy, ever-fleeting girl. They were fools, and they should have noticed your wandering eyes and lack of commitment from the get-go.

“Never,” you smirk back as you approach him. The live band had just finished, the music over the speakers nothing compared to the deafening screams of the guitars that had played, “It’s not my fault the boys in this town never learn their lesson.”

Billy only shrugs and throws back the last of his whiskey, “What did it this time? Did he drop the big L? Maybe he brought you flowers like Harrington did that one time?”

“Oh, God,” you place a hand over your heart dramatically, “Please don’t remind me. Breaking his heart nearly broke my nonexistent one.”

“Yeah, right,” Billy cackles, “Still can’t believe you ever gave the sap a chance. Or what about Byers, hm?”

“Couldn’t break a heart I never had. He always had eyes for Wheeler, that’s what made it fun,” you shrug and grab at a fruity drink that had been abandoned at the table, “To answer your question, he got clingy. All jealous because I was making eyes at the lead singer,” you tip your chin towards the stage that’s now empty and take a sip of the cocktail, “Say, what happened to your date? She looked pretty.”

“You were making eyes at Munson? Doll, I knew you were getting desperate after me, but him?” Billy cuts himself off with a low whistle.

“Shut up,” you take another long sip of the drink. It’s sweeter than your preference, but free alcohol is free alcohol, “Tell me what happened to the blonde you were chatting up.”

“I’m more into redheads.”

“Aw, but it looked like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I had to have three shots before I could stomach her laughing at my jokes.”

You reach over to pinch his cheeks, receiving sharp slaps against your wrists.

“Hot,” you coo before leaning back and ending his attack against your hands, “You know, if we both strike out tonight, we could always go home together.”

“You struck out, the night is still young for me,” Billy grins wickedly and looks around the busy bar for emphasis.

There’s a small commotion at one of the doors to the side of the stage, and you glance over to catch sight of the band that had been playing exiting.

The lead singer, Munson as Billy had referred to him, was just as stunning when taken down from his stage pedestal. His hair had been pulled back into a low bun, his torso once exposed on stage now covered in a faded Judas Priest tour shirt, but his Cheshire smile on his face was just as brilliant without the stage lights. Dimples hidden by the dark bar lighting, plush lips and scruff framing his face.

Billy catches you staring at him.

“Maybe you didn’t strike out,” he hums, “You gonna go for it, hot stuff?”

You smile in return. Something dangerous, something evil yet inviting, “I might. I do need a new play thing for the summer, after all.”

“Careful. I’m sure there’s a line of groupies willing to fight you for the Eddie Munson.”

Billy had been mocking you with a shrill voice, but he had been wrong.

There was no line of girls for you to compete with as you approached Eddie. And if there was, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. From the moment you had smiled at him, uttering your name into Eddie’s ears over the bass of the music, placing a careful hand on his shoulder and telling him how much you just adored his music, he had been hooked. You had him in your grasp from the start.

And maybe Billy knew that as he flashed you a sly grin over a redhead’s shoulder as you dragged Eddie behind you later that night, heading for the restrooms that patrons notably didn’t use.

It was your lipstick smeared over Eddie’s neck that night, it was your name falling from his lips as you pressed him against a stall wall, it was your hair that he tangled his hands in as you sat pretty on your knees before him, it was your nails digging into his jean-clad thighs as he fucked your mouth. No, other girls never would have stood a chance.

By the end of that night, you hadn’t even cum, but you thought nothing of it, still smug that you’d found yourself a new supposed victim. You’d never considered which one of you truly held the match, which one of you might bleed gasoline rather than crimson blood.

All that you considered was the fact that you’d wanted Eddie, and you’d got him, just as it always went.

That was only the first night.

SUMMER, 1987

You fall for him in the summer. You convince yourself you’re in control still, but it’s fruitless - you’d lost control the moment you’d tasted him on that dizzy spring night rather than waiting for the arrival of summer’s heat.

“Come over.”

Two simple words, yet the moment you’d spoken them over the line, Eddie had wasted no time to speed his way across town for your apartment. He was officially at your beck and call. You said the word, and he was at your dispense.

It was the fastest he’d ever arrived at your doorstep, rapping his knuckles against familiar rosewood and listening to the familiar weight of your footsteps approaching the door.

“Hey, you,” you sigh softly once you catch sight of him in your porchlight. The creatures of summer buzz as background noise as you drink him in. Same wild curls, same deviant smirk. There looks to be new rips in his black jeans, and his shirt is wrinkled, but none of that shatters the dreamy image of him to you.

You still want him just as badly as you had the first night.

“Sorry I took so long,” he teases, leaning into the doorframe you rest your hip against, “Traffic, you know.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just terrible this time of year,” you play along. You both know he’d made the fifteen minute drive in under ten minutes. But there’s something in the warm air, something electric and fluttering and addictive and palpable. You’re sure if you were to rest your hand flirtatiously against his chest as you normally did with your rotation of partners, that he’d burn you.

Something new. You tell yourself it’s just the excitement of a fresh Summer plaything, and you ignore the voice that whispers with the reminder that this started in the Spring.

“You gonna let me in?” he nods in the direction of your apartment behind you, bathed in a soft yellow from the dusk and the lamp on the table beside your couch.

You bring a hand to your chin and tap a finger mockingly, “Hm, I don’t know. Should I?”

“You should,” he leans even closer.

“I might need convincing.”

His breath washes over your cheek, so gentle you could have mistaken it for the summer breeze. You can smell the spice of his cologne, the stubborn smoke from his last cigarette. It makes your head spin.

“Convincing, you say?” he murmurs as his lips graze your earlobe, “I’ve been known to be convincing.”

This was something you enjoyed about him. He wasn’t like other boys - he didn’t fall to your feet and praise the ground you stood on, not directly. He didn’t follow you like a lost puppy. He took the time to dance with you, to entertain you with banter and to enrapture you with the chase. Maybe that’s why Spring and Summer felt the same when it came to him.

“I call bullshit,” you laugh breathlessly as his lips connect with your neck, making a trail of pecks until he reaches the bare skin of your shoulder. “You still haven’t convinced me to listen to Metallica.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his fingers sneak beneath the strap of your tank top, “Just be patient.”

The pet name strikes a kink in your armor, and in an instant, your hands are on his shoulders and dragging him into the living room, barely remembering to slam the door shut behind him.

You never let them call you nicknames normally. Billy had been the only exception.

But when he calls you baby, something blooms in your chest. And it’s vines and thorns alike twist and prick your gut, deflating your better judgment as the two of you are a mess of clumsy limbs that can’t seem to navigate your hallway fast enough. You can’t seem to get him to your bed fast enough.

“Off,” he demands against your lips when you finally have him sitting on your comforter, thighs straddling his as his hands tug at the tank top’s hem.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, but you’re already complying, shucking off the fabric and exposing yourself to him. You’d foregone a bra - it was too hot in Hawkins this time of year.

He doesn’t offer you an answer, hardly taking the time to suck in a deep breath before his mouth wraps around one of your peaked nipples and his large hand spans across your back to press you as close to him as he can get you. You’re already moaning too loudly, sure to receive noise complaints from the neighbors tomorrow. But you’re not thinking about the neighbors or tomorrow, you can only focus on his tongue and lips, working soft magic over your body as he twists the two of you so that he’s hovering over you.

“Fuck,” you blissfully breathe out, fingertips raking through the roots of his curls. His mouth has moved on to your other breast, leaving blooming petals of bruises in its wake.

Another thing you’d never allow to happen with any of the other boys.

No marks. A simple rule. A forgotten rule when it came to Eddie.

“You like that?” he chuckles as he places a final chaste kiss to your chest, lifting his head and staring up at you with his bambi eyes. He had the kind of eyes you could get lost in, wander and wade through for hours if given the chance. Shadows of brown and honey intertwining, beckoning to you with a promise of the adoration you seeked out.

You do like that. As a matter of fact, you love it.

“I like it better when your mouth is busy, rockstar,” you say as if you wouldn’t listen to him talk for hours, as if you hadn’t listened to him speak about nonsense as the time passed the two of you by.

He takes his cue, and he does as you ask. He traces roadmaps down your stomach, across your thighs and hips, not uttering a single word until he’s pulled away your cotton shorts and lace underwear.

When he’s face to face with your heat, he finally speaks again.

“Beautiful.”

It’s just a word. If any of your previous flings had spoken it, you’d smack them away and declare the moment over. In fact, you’d done just that with your autumn boy from last year. You weren’t here to be called beautiful, to be held carefully or to be praised as you let them take you however they pleased. You were here to get one thing and one thing only - your own pleasure.

Your back still arches when he says the word, your vines still crack your ribs just as they had reacted to the utterance of baby.

The thorns prickle beneath your skin when he makes you cum with his tongue once, twice, thrice too many times. When he pulls your body to his, when you allow him to forego the protection of a condom and you let him sigh contentedly into your mouth when he slides in, it all pierces you the same.

And when your voice has grown hoarse from chanting his name and your lips have gone chapped from kissing him desperately, you break your final damning rule.

“Stay with me?”

The plea comes out soft and heavy as your head rests against his chest. Even with your window open, the night breeze drifting in, the heat is stifling. It’s too warm to stay pressed so closely together, but it doesn’t stop you from clinging your body to his.

He doesn’t hesitate in his reply, “Of course.”

The two of you sink further into your sheets and each other. It wasn’t the first time Eddie Munson spent the night in your bed, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

AUTUMN, 1987

“You like him more than you liked the others.”

It’s not a question - it’s a fact secured in concrete that falls from Billy’s lips as the two of you lean against the brick exterior of the Hideout. A cigarette is half-gone and held limply between his lips, yours freshly lit and clung to tightly between white knuckles.

“I don’t like him,” you scoff, “He’s a good fuck.”

You weren’t here on your normal business, scoping for another warm body to join you in your bed for the night. Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was performing one of their weekly shows.

“Right. A good enough fuck to live to see the fall,” Billy presses, raising his eyebrows at you as he takes another drag and let’s the whisps of white smoke carry off into the cool night.

You’d just been striking out. That’s what you had told yourself. It was bound to happen eventually; you’d hit a dry streak, and you’d have to eventually find a repeat offender. Eddie was just that for you. Someone easy to fall back on. It didn’t hurt that you also enjoyed his company, especially when he’d swing you around in your kitchen while the two of you made dinner in your apartment or when he’d let you cuddle into his neck during the scary movie marathons you’d began to take part in with Halloween now looming around the corner.

“I haven’t seen you getting lucky,” you snap, a sudden defensiveness taking over. A lie, of course. You hadn’t frequented the bar enough lately to even know the last time your former fling had gotten laid.

Billy throws up his hands as he discards the butt of his cigarette, “Hey now, don’t get so feisty, doll. It’s okay to admit you’re going soft.”

Soft. Soft like Eddie’s hands when he pulled your hips against his night after night. Soft like Eddie’s eyes when he watched you in the shower during the mornings after, quick to swipe away any shampoo that drips down your forehead and dangerously close to your own eyes as you wash your hair. Soft like your voice every time you asked him to stay, over and over, never learning your lesson.

“I’m not going soft,” is all you say as you put out the cigarette, not even half-finished, and move to go back inside.

You’re not having this conversation. There’s nothing more to dissect. You weren’t going soft and you couldn’t like Eddie, it wasn’t in your nature.

It’s a mantra you repeat to yourself as you take in the sight of him still setting up the stage. You catch his eye and he grins at you, and you remind yourself you’re not soft. No, whatever this feeling is, it’s not soft. It is angry and loud, it is demanding and sharp. It is copper on your tongue and it is raging storm clouds in your mind. It is the opposite of everything he has been to you; it is every contrast possible to the way he treats you.

He treats you like a human being. You’re not a prize, you’re not an idol – you’re just a person, and sometimes, he treats you as if that’s the greatest thing you could possibly be.

When the show is over and rounds have been bought for the band, he comes home with you. He staggers on his feet and you know he’s had too much whiskey for his own good. Normally, any guy this drunk would be told to piss off.

He’s not any guy. He’s Eddie.

And so you take his drunken state in strides. You let his body lean into you as you guide him up the steps to your front door, you only smile when he gets handsy, you offer weak laughter at his terrible jokes.

“You only want me for my body,” he teases you between kisses when you hook your fingers into his jean’s belt loops to keep him close and upright, “Don’t you?”

This is the part where you tell him yes. You’re supposed to tell him he’s nothing more than a cure for the looming loneliness.

You shake your head.

“I’m not, but I can’t ride your personality, can I?” your fingers retract from the loops, and trace their way up his chest, memorizing the muscles beneath the t-shirt. It’s too faded to see the band logo once advertised.

“You could try,” he sways, and your wandering fingers curl into fists into the cotton material, “P-Probably be pretty hard, though. Just like me.”

He takes one of your hands and places it over the bulge in his jeans.

If he were any other guy, you’d play into it, because if he were any other guy, you’d be expecting to get something out of this night for your own selfish needs.

“Not so fast, rockstar,” you bring your hand back up to his chest as he hiccups, brows furrowed at your subtle rejection, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

It’s an uphill battle of gangly limbs and stumbling steps. He falls against your hallway walls more times than you can count as you guide him to your bedroom and allow him to splay out on the mattress. The laces of his combat boots are impossibly knotted, but you win the war in the end and tug them off of him. He wiggles his toes within his socks, and watches you with half-lidded eyes.

“This is the part where you try to ride my personality, right?” he tempts you, the wiggling in his toes flowing up to his eyebrows, eyes alight with mischief.

Your hand is gentle as you grab his ankle, exposed from jeans that had ridden up into scrunched material around the bottom of his calf. “Right. Let me get you some water first.”

You leave him to rush to the kitchen, gathering the glass of water you’d promised along with a bottle of painkillers from your medicine cabinet. For a moment, you take in the silence and lean your palms onto the cold kitchen counter.

Five months. Two months too long, technically, if you were comparing it all to your track record. He’d seen the eggshell white walls of your apartment more than your own mother, more than your closest friends. At this point, even on your most lonesome nights, you found yourself leaving an Eddie-sized space on the sheets beside you. One of your pillows now permanently smelt like him. There was a mug in your cabinet reserved for him and his ridiculously sweet coffee preference. You’d bought his favorite brand of cigarettes just last week, far stronger than your preferred menthols, and you’d found one of his socks discarded in your dirty laundry.

No, this wasn’t soft. It couldn’t be.

When you finally return to your room, he’s already asleep. You still leave the water and the pills on the bedside table for the next morning, when he’d need them. You try not to think too hard about the way that even in his drunken slumber, he’s left a perfectly you-sized space beside him, arm thrown out perfectly so that you can curl into him once you’ve brushed your teeth and dressed down into pajamas.

The last thing you remember before you fall asleep against him is the way your soft hand grazes over his stomach in soothing circles, and the way your brain softly whispers in the hope of his hangover not being too cruel to him come morning light.

WINTER, 1987

“Eddie! Stop it!” you squeal when he nearly takes you down with him as his back connects with the polished ice beneath the two of you.

Ice skating wasn’t the best idea for two people who were notoriously uncoordinated. But he’d asked you to come with him, and you’d put up little resistance.

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, still laying flat on his back with his eyes squeeze shut, legs spread wide as you wobble on your skates, “That fucking hurts.”

“I bet it does,” you nearly giggle, childish with your rosey cheeks and pink-tipped nose. Your smile is infectious once he opens his eyes and catches sight of you fighting back your laughter.

It was the first time the two of you had ever gone out before dark with each other. Although, you were sure by the time you two had finished your goofing off inside the indoor ice rink, it’d be night.

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, struggling to lift himself onto his elbows, “Laugh it up, chuckles. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your first fifty falls.”

“Fifty?” you squeak, forcing faux offense, “I only fell twice, thank you very much.”

It takes a bit for him to finally find his footing once more, plenty of hesitant and awkward movements to simply stand up right before you. Once you’re nearly face to face again, he’s pouting. “Kiss it better?”

Your feet shuffle beneath you, struggling to keep your balance. Your hands fly out and grab onto one of his forearms for balance, “Where’s it hurt?”

“Right here,” his free hand lifts to point to his lips, accentuating his pout further.

“Funny,” you muse, “I don’t recall you falling on your face - this time.”

He huffs as you begin to lose your balance again, one of your hands slipping down his wrist until your fingers are intertwined to the best of your abilities given the angle. His hand is freezing from the ice. Even despite his teasing, he’s quick to work with you, keeping the two of you standing straight with ever-shuffling feet.

“Residual pains or whatever they call them,” he waves off, tapping his lips again to make a point. You roll your eyes, but you’re still quick to lean forward and peck him.

“That’s all?” he whines, already moving in for another kiss.

Any onlooker would assume it’s a date. But it couldn’t be - you didn’t do dates. It was two friends, two acquaintances really, hanging out for the sake of fun. Just as you fell back on Eddie when your nights grew forlorn, he had seeked you out for comfort on his isolating days. It was just another perk of your arrangement.

An arrangement that had dragged on for eight long months.

“You’re greedy,” you mumble against his lips as he tries to deepen the kiss and you deny him.

“Of course I’m greedy,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip playfully, “Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?”

You couldn’t, you really couldn’t. You’d had your fair share of possessive types in the past, the kind that felt the need to always claim you as your own. And you would have found it hot, too, if it didn’t feel like they reduced you down to nothing more than some trophy to parade around town.

Eddie didn’t do that. He was still greedy, he had still gotten daring with marking you as his own as of late, but he never reduced you. He never forced you to shrivel in size, never tried to compact you into the box he needed you in. He took you as you were.

You were enough for him. For the first time in a very long time, you were enough.

If you thought about it too long, you would have become dizzy out there on the ice with Eddie. So you don’t think about it. You indulge yourself in banter and echoing laughter, in the scolding looks from nearby parents when one of you makes a crude joke loud enough for their children to hear. You claim your indulging him with the incessant kisses, but you know deep down they’re also for you. To feel his lips on yours. To feel his hands on your hips. To feel his fingers between yours.

To feel like enough.

You’re both still giddy when you approach the counter after several hours have passed, dropping your rented skates on the counter as you glance to the arcade filled with patrons. Glowing lights and trilling noises emit from the area, tangling with giggling that you can’t quite place as coming from there or the ice. It’s loud enough that Eddie has to lean in closer to the teenager working the cash register.

He insisted on paying. You’d tried to fight him on it, but he insisted it was his treat.

It’s during this momentary separation, in which your worlds’ briefly stop revolving around each other, that you spot him. He must have been here for as long as you and Eddie had been, and you must have just been too wrapped up in enough to have noticed him sooner.

Just as you see him, he sees you. Just as you prepare to turn on heel, to return to hiding into Eddie’s enough, he’s calling your name.

It’s loud. It mingles with the sounds already coming from the atmosphere. Eddie doesn’t hear him, but you do.

“Steve,” you try to greet him with a friendly tone through your clenched teeth, taking a few steps further away from Eddie, away from enough and blissful delusion, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah,” he looks as if he’s seen a ghost as he approaches you, “Yeah, not since, uh- well, you know.”

Not since the night you’d officially cut all ties with him, somewhere between Jonathan and Billy. You’d broken his heart. You’d nearly broken your own.

Your lips are pressed into a tight lip smile as you try to redirect the conversation, “How’ve you been?”

“Good! I’ve- uh, yeah, good. You?”

I’ve been on a downward spiral of breaking every single rule that I have spent my entire life curating for my dating life, and I know you’re aware of this by the way you just looked at Eddie over my shoulder, and the way your brow is furrowing, and I get it. I get it. I fucked up.

“I’ve been alright,” you force your jaw to relax, you force a kind and shy smile. It’s almost akin to the ones you’d originally flash him to get him in your grasp, “How’s Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler. After you left Steve the first time, letting whatever situationship that had begun just fizzle out, he’d ran into her arms. From the get go with Jonathan, you’d always known you were a placeholder for her. Even Billy had made a damn pass at her once you guys gave up at spring’s dawn; he’d claimed it might as well be a tradition now, only laughing as Nancy shot him down as expected.

Nancy Wheeler was everything you weren’t. She could promise these men security, stability, commitment, a future. She didn’t hide them. They weren’t dirty secrets forced to only wander into her arms late at night, they weren’t kicked out at the end of each night once she’d had their way with them.

Nancy probably never had her way with men, you realized, more likely letting them have their way with her.

“We broke up,” Again. He forgets to add the again.

They’d gotten together after that first time, been together while you had fun with Jonathan, broken up the moment you were finished with Jonathan and he could go to where he belonged – with Nancy.

Of course, when Jonathan chose a different university to go to, somewhere far away from Nancy, those two had broken up. Steve had swooped in again. It was a never ending headache of small town gossip you had grown tired of hearing about.

“I’m sorry,” you aren’t really, “That’s… forget I’m asked,” you’d feel worse if you hadn’t seen the girl waiting to the side for Steve. His date, no doubt.

“No worries, it’s been a while since it happened anyways,” he shrugs it off, but you can still see the hurt in his eyes.

He’d once called you drunkenly, going off on how he was going on all these dates trying to find you or Nancy again, how none of them were you or Nancy. Which, at the time, just irritated you because Steve, why do you still have my number? But now? Now, you almost get it. You almost understand the pain of searching for a familiar face in the eyes of strangers because any time you had gone to your usual haunts these last seven months, you found yourself searching crowds for wild, messy curls and warm brown eyes. For shades of honey and the scent of tobacco drowned out by cheap cologne.

You hadn’t been striking out anymore, the realization hits clear as day. It’s not even that you were being as picky as you normally were – none of the guys were Eddie. None of them had freckles below their right eyes that made your breath catch, none of them had the same calluses along their fingers from years of guitar practice. None of them had the same boyish grin that shone through the dark of your room at two in the morning, leaving you with no choice but to let him stay. They weren’t Eddie.

“You like him more than you liked the others,” Billy’s voice reverberates from the back of your mind.

The truth seeps into your bones like ash and flames, a fever burning you from the inside out.

Steve only fans the flames when he nods over your shoulder at Eddie, “So, are you and Munson a thing now?”

Flames. Hot coals in the back of your throat, lively embers trailing down your spine. You’re watching the entirety of who you had worked so hard to become over the years bursting into flames.

“What?” you whisper, not realizing Eddie had finished paying behind you, “No. No, we- no. We aren’t anything. We’re just… we’re just friends.”

Even the word friends whispers away into smoke, choking you up.

“Friends? Looks like you two were on a date, like he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“Well, we’re not. He’s not.”

Steve hardly buys it, but when Eddie joins your side once more, you don’t even offer him a glimmer of a farewell. You grab the wrist of your friend, your not boyfriend, and you high tail out of there. Still choked up, still running, still reeling.

It’s still light when you leave the building and your hand drops from Eddie’s. You’ll both pretend the cold is from the weather, and not the distance you put between him and yourself.

And if he heard your conversation with Steve, he doesn’t bring it up. Not that night, at least.

SPRING, 1988

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You got him in the spring – it makes sense that you lose him in the spring.

“What do you mean?” you play dumb, painfully coy as you continue to rinse the dishes. Plural. Dishes that the two of you had just dirtied through a painfully tense dinner together. In your apartment, at the counter of your tiny kitchen, knees not even so much as brushing.

“This,” something has broken inside of him. Snapped, shattered, splintered. “It’s been a year, and I keep telling myself that you’ll come around, but-”

“Come around?” you cut him off with a laugh, one that stabs not only through his chest but your own. A double-edged dagger that has been sharpening itself for a year now, “Come around to what, Eddie?”

He hadn’t expected the way you lash out, the cold storm that you had been consumed by since the winter night where Steve had looked at you like something had changed in you. As if you had finally gotten better, as if you had had something sour in you all along and Eddie had managed to magically drain you of it.

He couldn’t. He never was going to be able to.

“Me?” he’s not sure of himself, voice wavering and eyes sparkling as they widen with tears of frustration, “Us? Fuck, I don’t know, but I can’t keep-”

“You thought I would come around to the idea of us?” your voice is cool and collected, nothing like his, as you finally turn around, “What, like we’re dating?”

You were. A year of this back and forth, and you were too stubborn to just accept it. It was your downfall. It was the bleeding wound for not only yourself, but for Eddie – for this, as he had called it.

You like him more than you liked the others.

So, are you and Munson a thing now?

A good enough fuck to live to see the fall.

You were never going to be enough for him. In your lifetime, you’d always known what you were good for, and it wasn’t for boys like Eddie Munson.

“What else do you call this?” he motions vaguely to the dishes, to the fridge that holds his takeout, to the hallway he had tumbled down more times than you could count, “We’re more than just good friends, sweetheart.”

“We both knew what we were getting into.”

“Did we?”

Come over.

I might need convincing.

Stay with me?

You should have been smarter. You should have been more careful.

It’s a brutal fight, and it’s the everything you had been waiting for. The illusion of softness finally breaks. Whispered words of care have become sharp insults, all the small moments where you had made mistake after mistake with him are now weapons. If the dated walls of your kitchen could speak, the tiles would murmur of all the blood being spelt as brutal defenses are sent back and forth from both sides.

“I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.”

“You could, you just don’t want to.”

“What’s the difference, Eddie?”

You were never going to be enough. You should have seen that, clear as daylight from the beginning. You were something rotten from the moment he met you, and he had just been too stupid to recognize all the decay.

Of course I’m greedy. Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?

Why couldn’t he just accept what you were willing to give? Why did he have to push, to persist, to insist upon you laying more of yourself out for him? You had already dissected yourself beyond repair, made the cuts that would never heal and bared your innards in a way that you never should have to begin with.

Stay with me?

You wish you were still just lazing in between your sheets with him. A you-shaped space at his side, a pillow on his side of your bed. You wish he had never picked a fight he had every right to rage. You wish, you wish, you wish.

Stay with me?

And then you lose, you lose, you lose.

“You were just some idiot who thought you could change me,” you seethe at some point, aiming damning arrows for every exposed bone he’d ever given you a glimpse of, “What made you think that? Hm? Was it when I paraded you around the town, calling you my boyfriend? Or was it every time I told you just how much I loved you? Was it when I fell to my knees and kissed the ground you walked on, Eddie? Go ahead. Tell me.”

You were just rubbing salt in the wound at that point. Saying everything he had wished for over the last year, that you never gave him.

You never called him your boyfriend. You never told him you loved him. You never did, and you never would.

When it’s all said and done, it’s everything you had expected. A screaming match that the neighbors will complain about the same as they’d complained about every late-night rendezvous between the two of you. An effective cutting of ties that you’d been anticipating for a long twelve months. If it were the movies, maybe the fight would have been more effective. Something that would delve into the lead up of love confessions, an ending where you wind up in his arms and he’s whispering every which way that he still cares for you, even with your teeth bared and your sharpest knives poised.

It’s not a movie. It’s everything you expected.

But you hadn’t been prepared for the ache. When your own vicious words left a taste of ash on the tongue, when his eyes flashing with something harsher and less caring for you left a hollow ache that rang in your ears longer than his voice did. You didn’t think that you’d feel the cutting of ties. Every nerve ending in your body feels that jagged edge that saws through all that you two had tried to build over the last year, but it’s far too little and far too late. The foundation was cracked – you were damaged.

You lose him. The world doesn’t end; the night carries on even as he grabs his leather jacket and leaves behind the sock in your dirty laundry. And when he exits out your front door, hiding away any tears that might have slipped free, just as you were, you feel that unexpected whisper inside of you.

Stay with me?

You sleep alone that night. For once, the smell of tobacco and his shampoo makes you throw the pillow that was once his across the room.

SUMMER, 1988

She deserves him.

Chrissy Cunningham deserved Eddie Munson far more than you ever had. She was enough.

Summer can stain, but it can’t erase. Even in the months of aftermath, even for every tear shed in private and wave of yearning that would drown you in the dead of night, you never changed. It had hardly taken weeks after Eddie had walked out of your life for you to return to your old ways, going back to the bars and seeking out the latest warm blood to lose yourself in that night.

It didn’t matter that you compared each and every single smile to Eddie’s. It didn’t matter that you’d have to grip your sheets until your knuckles turned bloody to avoid touching the strangers hovering over you, hoping to feel familiar skin and a comfort long lost instead of whatever poor soul you’d dragged home with you.

He deserves a love full of life. A love that breathes him in and doesn’t drain him. One that could let him feel the sun on his skin rather than hiding him away in the night.

A love that doesn’t tick away each passing season, because it’s a love that doesn’t have a ticking time bomb attached to it.

“Never thought I’d see the day Cunningham got her claws in Munson,” Billy mumbles around a cigarette at your side.

He didn’t tease about Eddie those first few months. One look at you, and he had known.

“She didn’t get her claws in him,” you say, monotonous as you reach for your drink once more, “I’m happy for him. They look happy.”

They do. They really, really do. A love that burns like summer, and has never been touched by a dying autumn or cruel winter. The type of happiness Eddie would have never been able to find from you, try as he had.

Billy taps some of his ash into the tray at the center of your shared table. Surely, he had better things to do, but he stays. It was probably entertaining, watching you pine and regret for once in your life, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Their’s don’t. I bet you that there’s a ring on her finger before next summer.”

You don’t want to imagine the pain that would ignite in you. That’s the type of emotion that would far surpass any regret you currently feel. But you seem to enjoy torturing yourself, eyes still zeroing in on her left hand, as if you already see the glint of whatever diamond Eddie would seek out for his worthy lover.

“And I bet if that happens, you skip town within twenty four hours of finding out.”

He’s right. Nothing was truly tying you to this sleepy town, and the reminder of your worst mistake, your most terrible slip up of all time, would easily send you running with your tail between your legs.

“Probably,” you sigh, no longer putting up a front. You hadn’t even tried batting your lashes at a single man since Eddie and Chrissy had arrived at the bar. You were striking out tonight, on your own volition, “Maybe I’d move to California. I hear the men there are easy enough.”

“They are,” Billy laughs, throwing his head back. It’s enough to garner attention across the bar, numerous girls being enticed as if he might be a siren beckoning to them, “Take it from one. The girls on the west coast are prettier, though, so you can’t blame ‘em.”

The girls on the west coast probably resemble Chrissy. Golden skin, golden auras, golden light. Honeyed words and the sweetest of blushes across coy cheeks. They probably embody every sunset and sunrise simultaneously, and you can only stand there green with envy.

“You are awfully easy,” is all you can offer in reply. The banter has started to fall flat since Eddie. You’re no fun – hardly taking any bait that Billy will hand over so generously.

Maybe, if you had tried a little harder, you could have been one of those girls. Clear blue skies, not a sight of the storm clouds that you still let consume you.

Maybe Eddie would have stayed if you had tried a little harder.

There’s no real hope for it now. You’re left to being nothing more than a conglomeration of pathetic pity parties and the taste of cheap beer these days, hardly worth the chase once the boys get close enough to see the rot. You’ve stopped trying so hard to cover it up; you’d ripped yourself open for Eddie, and had never found a way to properly suture yourself back together so that anyone new might not get a glimpse of all the bad. They could spot it from a mile away these days.

It doesn’t help that you no longer try to cover it all up with overly sweet perfumes or sickly sweet pickup lines.

Billy’s laughter didn’t just draw the attention of the girls around the bars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a pair of whiskey eyes find the two of you, locking on you far too easily to have not known.

You notice, because of course you notice him. But when Billy notices, it catches you a bit more off guard.

“Like I said,” he drawls, and you nearly panic when he grabs his drink off to leave you behind, “Looks can be deceiving, hot stuff.”

Your eyes find Eddie’s quickly, not listening to a word that Billy is saying. Chrissy is saying something, something surely important, but her boy isn’t listening. Her boy, her conduit for all her sunshine, is staring right at you and has no plans on looking away any time soon.

He’s seen the rot up close and personal. He’s the one who’d handed the treacherous scalpel over to your shaking hands, encouraging you to open up in all the ways you never wished to.

You shouldn’t do it. You’ll regret it. You really shouldn’t do this.

“They never learn their lesson, do they?”

You don’t know who Billy is talking about.

Eddie, who almost seems to be under your spell, taking a slow slip of his neat whiskey, staring you down as if he’s brimming with bad ideas that he hopes you can hear from across the room.

Or you, who should know better. You hurt him, you broke his heart, you don’t deserve him. And yet, you’re selfish as ever, mind reeling with possibilities of how you wish the night would end.

You can hear the bad ideas. Clear as day. Especially when Eddie only breaks eye contact long enough to lean in to Chrissy and whisper something that effectively dismisses her, leaving Eddie all alone and in your gaze.

“They don’t,” you say, throwing back the last of your drink.

You know where he’s heading. And you know where you’re heading. A moth to his flame, going only where he will allow you. You’re a ghost of the menace you once were. The other men, the other bodies that kept you warm these nights; none of them were him. You didn’t want them. You weren’t soft with them. They never stayed, because you never asked them to. There was only one man in this bar, in this entire damn bar, that would ever fill the hole left behind in you after Eddie’s summer. Eddie’s spring, Eddie’s autumn, Eddie’s winter.

And he was walking outside the bar, almost tauntingly as he sauntered through the doors, beckoning you with each and every step.

Perhaps this time, Eddie’s the one who needs a summer plaything.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Billy taunts you as he takes a few steps back, knowing damn well as to what was about to happen. Bad ideas, downright terrible ideas.

Eddie is playing the same game as you were once a master in. It dawns on you; Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t his newest love. She wasn’t his sweetest sunrise or gentle spring. She was a passing wind, just like all the boys you’d enticed before him. She’s already moved along, pretty hand resting on the shoulder of a new beau and not even paying any mind to Eddie’s absence. She may deserve him, but she doesn’t have him.

Nor do you. The roles have been switched, and you should know better. He’s leading you to an inevitable death, whether it be a little one or something of catastrophic value. He is leading you right into your own demise. Just as you used to do with every new victim you’d set your mark on before him, before your summer, before it all.

All your old tricks, turned to weapons against you.

And you’ll let him. A moth to his flame. A dog at his window sill.

“It never does.”

Stay with me?

Maybe, this time, you’ll be the one staying. If only for the night, and if only for Eddie.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #i could certainly be persuaded to write a part 2 :)

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rp-partnerfinder · 16 days

Note

Hi hi! I’m looking for 18+ writing partners in a few different fandoms. I will have pairings that I’m interested in listed below, the characters with a * mark is who I’d be interested in writing as.

These fandoms are…

•Stranger Things

*Chrissy x Steve

*Chrissy x Eddie

*Max x Eddie (platonic)

*Max x Steve (platonic)

*Max x *Nancy (platonic)

Steve x *Nancy

Steve x *Robin (platonic)

Eddie x *Nancy

*Nancy x Jonathan

•The Last Of Us

Joel x *Ellie (platonic)

Ellie x *OC

Joel x *OC (romantic or platonic)

•Gilmore Girls

*Rory x Lorelai (platonic, of course)

*Rory x Dean

*Rory x Jess

*OC x Rory, Dean or Jess

•Girl Meets World

*Maya x *Riley (platonic or romantic)

*Maya x Lucas

*Riley x Lucas

(All characters will be aged up 18+ !)

In terms of writing styles, I'm quite adaptable and am willing to write with anyone within the semi-literate to novella range. I have a preference for Discord to plot and write. (Though I’m not at all opposed to other platforms). If you’re interested, please leave a like on this post and I’ll DM you! I look forward to chatting with you:)

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munsonsreputation · 2 months

Text

WATCH THAT SCENE!

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [2.3k]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, overall fluff!!!

summary: the kids need help learning how to dance for their formal and you're their last resort, but they should've known not to count your suave boyfriend eddie out.

The sun had begun setting in the small town, the burnt twinge of orange and yellow tumbling over the sky where clouds grew drabber and the bright blue following behind. The air was the perfect kind of crisp that blew smoothly against your legs and face, easing the warmth that had developed from the hours of stretches, flips, kicks, and jumps.

All of the others girl had left the parking lot, only leaving you behind, though Chrissy was kind enough to offer you a ride, but you knew Eddie was going to there any minute. And so you beamed when his van came turning into the school zone, the music slowly being turned down as he saw you standing outside the gym already approaching his car.

“How was practice, baby?” He hailed out towards the open passenger window, smiling widely.

You rolled your eyes playfully, opening the door to toss your things into the backseat before settling into the soft velvet cushion beside him. Eddie was already jutting his chin out towards you when you giggled, holding a hand on his cheek to stabilize yourself and pressing your lips together.

He tasted like mint and cigarettes. A combination that you’d never get sick of because despite how much you hated that he smoked those cancer sticks, he always chewed a piece of gum before ever trying to go in for a kiss with you.

“I can’t wait to shower.” You groaned, combing your fingers through your oily hair when he finally started driving away from the school.

Cheer practice was always muggy and gross. Getting tossed in the air time and time again, then proceeding to touch the sweaty mats that everyone practically laid on and touched made you feel icky. It was always routine for you to get into a shower after practice and scrub the living daylights out of your skin.

Eddie looked over at you, cursing under his breath a little at his forgetfulness.

“Shit! Sorry, babe, but Henderson called—he asked if we could swing my Joyce and Hops.”

You shrugged, shaking your head not bothered by the pit-stop since it was always nice to see the kids especially since you were so busy these days.

The only time you really got to see them was if Eddie had a campaign that ran late or on weekends when Eddie was in charge of dropping them off and picking them up.

“It’s fine, as long as I get a shower in the next few hours. Did he say why?”

He shook his head, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “He sounded panicky and annoyed. A lot of voices and music in the background, though.”

“Well, panicky and annoyed, isn’t unusual?” You quipped, and he cackled, switching lanes to take the route.

“We’ll find out in a little bit.”

The Byers-Hopper living room had now been infiltrated by all the younger teens, including the older ones: Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Steve. The older four had been called to by Dustin, begging them to come over and show them a few dance moves that they could use for the winter formal.

But bless Dustin Henderson’s heart, because while they might have had a few proms and formals as dance experience, none of them were “experts” at dancing — or at least none met his standards.

For god's sake, even Nancy and Jonathan, who were a couple since forever, looked like a pair of stiff bodies moving back and forth when they tried to demonstrate how to dance when a slow song came on.

And you would think that someone as charming as Steve would have some sort of groove when it came to dancing, but Jesus, no, he looked even more rigid and awkward.

Don’t even get them started on Robin, who bursted out in laughter when she tried to dance with Steve but failed within the first three seconds because she had accidentally stomped on his foot thinking she was leading.

It even came to the point where they confided in Hopper and Joyce who had arrived home from work to their living room furniture pushed against the walls to make room for a makeshift dance floor. A cassette played loudly through the radio and everyone seemed to be a jumbling mess.

Well, the mess became even bigger when Hopper and Joyce tried to show them a move or two, which just ended up with everyone laughing and burying their faces in their hands at the scene. El, Will, and Jonathan cringed more so than laughed, but now they knew their parents were probably the worst dancers than themselves at than alone was a core memory.

That’s when Dustin threw in the towel and decided to make a call to his dear friend Eddie. Eddie who was about to leave his trailer to pick you up from practice so you could get home and shower, then finish the movie you two fell asleep to last night.

But nevertheless, Dustin sounded frantic and desperate, begging for him to bring you over and alas Eddie gave in.

The boy finally saw the van pull into the driveway and shot up from the couch where he had been resting, watching through the window.

“Shut the music off, Steve!” He shouted, stumbling up and towards the front door.

Everyone rose their brows, Steve following Dustin’s instruction and pausing the cassette that El had let them borrow for the day’s impromptu dance party. Before you and Eddie could even knock on the door, it was pulled open.

The scene of everyone staring at the metal head and cheerleader, quite shocking actually—more shocking than the stares in the hallways at school, which were pretty dreadful already.

You side-eyed Eddie suspiciously wondering what he had gotten you both into before looking back at Dustin.

“Hi?” you squeaked suspiciously, twiddling your hand in the air to greet everyone who waved.

The boy smirked, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you inside roughly without a second thought.

“Dustin, what the hell!” You shrieked having no choice but to move with him in order to avoid tripping over your own feet.

Eddie rolled his eyes, stepping inside and shutting the door closed.

“Henderson, you’ve got three seconds to tell me why you’re dragging my girlfriend like a rag doll.”

Dustin apologetically bowed towards Eddie, dropping your arm and gesturing to the open floor.

Everyone else was either leaning up against the wall or sitting down on the couch, trying to get some rest after the young boy practically forced them to keep dancing until they had something, but nothing was good enough for the damn twerp.

“You know how to dance, right?” Dustin stared at you, and you bounced on your heels, nodding your head slightly.

“I mean, cheerleading does require some dancing but—“

Dustin shushed you, causing you to furrow your brows, and looked around dumbfounded at the action. Steve and Robin were already shooting you sorry looks as they muttered something about his tone and needing a smack to the head.

“Henderson, just tell us why we’re here?” Eddie rubbed at his temples.

He plopped on the empty seat next to Max who looked rather peeved at being stuck there all afternoon when she could have been at the arcade playing Dig-Dug.

She turned to him, gesturing in the air with annoyed hands. “Dustin wants us to learn how to dance for this weekend’s formal.”

Lucas pipped in, looking at the crowd before settling on you. “No one knows how to dance except you.”

A small smile grew upon your face, looking around the room at the sullen faces that were offended at Lucas’ words — mostly Hopper and Joyce, because back in their day, they were pretty darn good dancers if they said so themselves.

Eddie sat up from his spot on the couch, shooting a deceitful look at Lucas while gesturing fondly to himself.

“What? You don’t think she’s the only good dancer around here do you?”

Mike grunted, mumbling under his breath, “You sure don’t look like you knew how to command a dance floor.”

Everyone seemed to agree with Mike, which was extremely rare, even for Hopper who didn’t like the kid all that much.

You crossed your arms, shaking your head at the little shitheads and more offended that they thought your boyfriend couldn't dance.

“Hey! Did you forget Eddie is in a band? He practically eats, sleeps, and breathes rhythm.” You reasoned with a tilt of your head, trying to sway them.

Everyone tried to stifle their laughter but failed terribly. I mean could you blame them?

Eddie played metal music, not that pop disco shit that would be playing at the formal, but that’s because they thought wrong about him. They all thought they had your boy all figured out as the stereotypical metal head that couldn’t dance to save his life, but you were about to make them eat their words.

Contrary to popular beliefs, Eddie was quite the dancer, and a good one at that. He knew how to keep up the pace and swoop you off your feet so smoothly you’d think he was a professional in his past life.

You shot Eddie that look, lifting your shoulders with the silent offer as he looked almost coy before nodding at you, scooting off the couch and shaking his arms off getting himself warmed up.

You glanced at Steve, pointing at the stereo, “Hit it!”

Eddie moved across the floor to you effortlessly, hands going for your hips while you draped yours over his neck — you were like magnets easily finding each other. Your feet slid back and forth, one after the other, following Eddie’s lead that flowed with the music.

“How did you guys know Eddie and I love to dance to ABBA?” You called towards your friends who watched in astonishment.

“You can dance?!” they screeched, eyes widening as they all straightened up in their seats and off the walls, watching with the utmost surprise and shock.

You began to giggle as your boyfriend spun you around into his chest, swaying you both while he placed a kiss on your cheek before spinning you back out.

“Just like the songs says, you just gotta feel the beat.” Eddie rose his brow at them, moving your hips in his hands before you shook your head at his playfulness.

“C’mon, we’ll show you.” You told them, pushing at his chest so that you could skip on over towards Dustin, pulling him to the center of the living room with you.

Eddie went for Max, tilting his head for her to follow his lead and not be so nervous.

“It’s really all about keeping the pace and the beat.” He instructed, looking down at their shoes and Max did her best to not step on his sneakers that were already pretty beat up.

“And loosen up,” you chided, nudging Dustin a bit, “relax those shoulders and move those hips.” You instructed, showing him to roll his shoulders back and swirl his lower body as if he was hula-hooping.

After a while, they started to get the hang of it, easily moving across the floors without stepping on each other’s feet and not being so tense.

“Great, now you two try!” You nodded, handing off Dustin towards Max.

It was awkward at first, the both of them laughing as they didn’t know where to put their hands, but quickly it became natural with what you and Eddie had taught, the basics of keeping up with the rhythm and singing along.

You huffed with hands on your hips, looking around the room for your next student, while Eddie had already grabbed Joyce who was a giggly mess.

“C’mon Mr. Hips, I know they don’t call you king Steve for nothing.” You teased, tiptoeing towards your friend and pulling him along with you.

Before you knew it, the living room was a lively dance floor. Bodies grooving along to music without even second guessing if they were doing it right and just having fun with each other as they sung and tried not to bump into the pair beside them.

“Maybe we should open up a studio and start teaching some classes?” You suggested with a grin, resting your chin on Eddie’s chest, staring up at him.

He chucked, pecking at your nose sweetly, “Don’t get ahead of yourself babe, you know my dancing services are limited to you. This was just a special occasion.”

“Do you have any other talents you want to reveal?” Dustin nudged him with his elbow, prompting Eddie to smirk toward him before looking back at you.

“I can do a pretty gnarly lift, exactly like that one in Dirty Dancing.” He bragged, still pretty surprised at himself that he was able to pull it off.

The girls in the room gasped, including Steve, “No way!”

“Yes way,” You bit your lip with a giggle, remembering that one afternoon you and Eddie had spent together trying to get it down after you had watched the movie.

Steve dropped Robin’s hand, wandering over to the stereo and pausing the track before picking it up by the handle and walking towards the front door. Everyone stared at him, waiting until he sighed, one hand on his hip as he looked at you and Eddie.

“You guys need more room than this. We’re moving outside and that lift better be top tier.” He warned towards Eddie, walking out the front door as everyone else followed his lead.

You and Eddie laughed at how ridiculous it all was — surely none of the kids were going to attempt to pull off a lift in the middle of their formal dance, but it was sure gonna be funny watching everyone else have their try at it.

Eddie hoisted you up, prompting you to laugh into the crook of neck, “C’mon baby, I’m about to blow their socks off.” He said, kissing your cheek with an obnoxiously loud smooch before carrying you out the door.

So maybe you didn’t get to go home and get that shower or finish that movie as soon as you would have liked to, but you sure did get to dance that afternoon away with the love of your life and that in itself was a win.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: i have been neglecting my beloved eddie for far too long and this has been sitting in my drafts since forever so here ya go!!! yes eddie is a dancer and that is not up for debate -- yeah my man loves his metal music, but the second he hears a good pop tune he's pulling his gf up and they're dancing like no one is watching.

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

#munsonsreputation #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagines #edde munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff

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hxneybimbo · 2 years

Text

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: bit of smut, ANGST, insecurities, unrequited love. Mentions of previous relationships with Steve and Billy

Author’s note: LMAAAO I should be writing smut instead but a girl was sad and felt like writing some angst. This is just a drabble and frankly, I LITERALLY just wrote it. Idk what else to add and it seems unfinished but I’m satisfied :)) also lmao idk how to write angst so 👁👄👁 I apologize if it’s awful

PART 2

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Everything was falling apart, spiraling into utter chaos. And no matter how much you tried to piece everything together; to be disillusioned and happy—it was all going downhill. You’ve been walking down an empty, random road. You don’t know if you’re lost, frankly you don’t care. You’re feet are starting to hurt but all you can really care about is the fact that you feel used.

“Ed—Eddie, I love you,love you-“ You whined, cunt clinging onto his fat cock that thrusted in and out of you. Your lips slightly bruised from the kiss from earlier. All you can think about is how good you feel, how the kisses Eddie gives you are sweet and perfect.

“Fuck— I love you” Eddie moaned lowly against your ear, eyes clenched and sweat dripping down his neck. Your heart fluttered hearing those words and you smile. You never get tired of hearing them fall from his lips.

“M’gonna cum, shit! Love you,Chrissy-“

Immediately, you freeze underneath him and your eyes are wide while he pulls out and spurts his cum all over your stomach. All you can think about is the name he spoke, the name that didn’t belong to you. You push him off you and hurriedly shove on your clothes, ignoring his call of your name and rush out of his home.

You’re quite used to these feelings that never seem to go away. You’re used to being used, to men who never seem to love you the same way you love them. They take bits and pieces of you, borrowing those pieces and never returning them once they got what they needed.

You let them and you don’t know why; maybe you’re just stupid. You cling onto this pathetic hope, hoping that they’d stay—hoping that maybe if you don’t say anything and continuously love them, they’d love you.

It doesn’t matter how much affection you give them or how much you do for them—it never did. They never bat an eye at you and they don’t fucking care no matter how much you wished they did. You think back to your previous relationships and how they unsurprisingly failed. Steve Harrington was your very first boyfriend and you always knew he wasn’t completely over Nancy. But Steve fucking Harrington showed interest in you immediately after getting dumped by Nancy. You always had a crush on him so why wouldn’t you say yes to dating him? He dumped you after six months of dating. You didn’t realize you were a rebound until that night. You tried to make him happy, you really did because he was sweet and you genuinely loved him.

With Billy Hargrove, you at least didn’t have to suffer as much. He was honest, brutally to the core. You were just meant to be a quick fuck but it turned into more. Except you loved him and he didn’t. You knew that fully well and you didn’t expect anything from him. You deluded yourself for a bit until he grew tired of you, until he told you that he didn’t love you. It hurt being told: “I don’t fucking love you.” It fucking stung and it ruined your week.

And god, did you hate yourself for doing this to yourself. You can’t blame them since you did this all to yourself. You let them use you because you don’t know any better. You don’t know what it is to be loved and you assume that everything—the lingering touches, warm smiles, sweet words—is them showing you their form of love. You think you know, but you fucking don’t.

You thought you did with Eddie Munson, you really did. You thought that Eddie—sweet, gentle Eddie Munson who could never hurt you—loved you. But you realize that just because someone tells you that they love you doesn’t always mean that they truly mean it. They’re just saying three, stupid, insignificant words just for the fuck of it. I love you. I. Love. You. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. Whydontyouloveme?

You love Eddie but he doesn’t love you. You think he’s crueler than both Billy and Steve. They didn’t lie to you by uttering those three words. They didn’t make you feel like you were on Cloud 9 as if nothing mattered in the world because all those pretty, addicting feelings made you feel good. He made you feel good about yourself, about loving him and being loved.

You feel like a child sometimes with each boy, plucking onto petals of flowers and wondering if he loved you or not. And really, he didn’t love you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #billy x you #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things angst #eddie munson angst

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captn-james · 2 years

Text

The Walkman - Eddie Munson

Eddie finds one of your favorite cassettes in your Walkman and can’t help but imagine the music is dedicated to him. Eddie’s friends are determined to make sure he does something about it.

Words: 4.3k Tags: Eddie x fem!reader, jealous Eddie, meddling kids, fluff

Warnings: just explicit language

Note: Here is a shameless self-insert POV to heal the cracks in our hearts. This is an AU where everyone is SAFE and the Duffer Brothers aren’t inflicting sadistic pain on everyone. Eddie is a HUGE softie in this one but it’s what we deserve.

____________________________________________________________

Almost everyone that Eddie had ever met had expectations for him. Expectations for who he was, what he did, what he could accomplish. And, for the most part, he fit those expectations pretty well. A useless metalhead who spent more time focusing on “cultist” roleplaying games and drug dealing than trying to graduate high school. Truthfully, he did care about graduating, about making more friends, but it was always easier to play the part of the Freak than try and conform.

Sometimes, he wished he could be the guy that could pass a class without failing it first. He wished he could effortlessly make friends, even if he didn’t always get along with everyone. He wished he could walk down the hallway without being harassed by students younger than him. He wished he could admit that he wanted to pick up girls like Nancy Wheeler, or Chrissy Cunningham, not the older women who hit on him at the Hideout.

He wanted, more than anything, to be Steve Harrington. Especially right now.

You had moved across the state to Hawkins several months ago with your father, moving in just a few doors down from the Harrington residence. Your father worked at the same company as Steve’s father, and you two had grown quite close. Steve had introduced you to his friend Robin and drove you both to school most mornings. He had also made it a habit to walk you to your locker and your first class before leaving for work. Eddie’s locker was across from yours in the wide hallway, meaning he got to witness your flustered reactions to Steve’s banter almost every day for the past semester. He hated it, but it was like a bad car crash – he simply couldn’t look away. Sometimes he wondered if he purposely sought out his own misery.

You stood with your head rested against the locker next to yours, looking at Steve who spoke to you with his hand holding onto your open locker door, where you had taped up an old picture of Paul McCartney with heart stickers.

It was stupid, really. Eddie had no chance with someone like you, least of all when Harrington was making you blush and look down at your feet regularly. Of course it was Paul McCartney. And of course it was Steve Harrington.

Eddie was infatuated with you, everything about you, from the minute he laid eyes on you. The way you always found a way to wear yellow and make it look good. The way your hair curled back like Farrah Fawcett’s. The way your eyes scrunched up and your head tilted back when you laughed. Your cherry-red nails and pink-tinted lips from your strawberry chapstick. He knew your taste in music was ridiculous: Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Chicago, The Beatles. But he knew he would listen to all of it, every second, for the rest of his life if it meant spending time with you. He was fairly certain he could talk you into listening to some of his music – Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, - but thoughts like that just led to more unrealistic daydreams, and certainly daydreams he didn’t need to be thinking about during school hours.

Eddie watched as Steve leaned in and whispered something in your ear, tucking your feathered hair behind it softly. He was holding up a tape from your Walkman in his other hand, and your eyes went wide. You covered your mouth and giggled, and Eddie could have sworn that you glanced up at him for a fraction of a second. So quickly it was imperceptible. You playfully hit Steve on the arm and grabbed at the tape. He held it above your head and laughed at your feeble attempts to reach it until he eventually gave in and tossed it back to you. You quickly shoved the tape back into your Walkman and slid the headphones over your ears, flipping Steve off as he walked backwards towards the door, saying something neither you nor Eddie could fully make out, before turning and leaving. You rolled your eyes and began walking toward Eddie with a smile on your face, adjusting the headphones on top of your head. Eddie’s heart sped up and he held his breath softly until you turned and walked into a classroom. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

He could hardly focus during his first class, replaying that split second of eye contact that he wasn’t even confident was real. Was Steve making fun of him? Was Steve teasing you about him? Eddie thought of all the reasons he may have been part of that sickeningly sweet display this morning, all the ways he could have been mentioned. Most of the ones he could think of were not flattering or kind, but he had come to expect that from people like Steve.

Second period wasn’t any easier to focus. Why was your cassette important? Surely Steve wouldn’t be teasing you about your taste in music, would he? Eddie thought about what music it might be and why you snatched it from Steve’s hands so fast, looking around to make sure nobody had heard your interaction. Maybe that’s why you had looked at Eddie. Maybe it really had nothing to do with him, you were just making sure nobody was watching you and Steve. Classic Eddie, overthinking every interaction he had with you.

He would give anything to see what was in your Walkman, what you have been listening to all morning.

Today was Eddie’s lucky day.

As he walked into his third class of the day, the class from which you were just exiting, he noticed your Walkman sitting in the basket underneath the desk. It was unmistakably yours, with your name painted on the side in bright yellow letters. Normally, he would grab it and chase you down to give it to you. And he should, he really should, but his intrusive thoughts took over, and he found himself sitting in the seat, guarding the player with his life until the very end of class. He preoccupied his thoughts with what he thought would be in there, driving himself mad with thoughts of you listening to various different pop albums, dancing in your bedroom. What he wouldn’t give to see your bedroom, too.

Eddie cut off his thoughts and tried to focus on class, more for the distraction than anything. As soon as the bell rang, he slipped your Walkman into his bag before anyone could notice and made a beeline for the bathroom. He casually walked into an empty stall, locking the door behind him and dropping his bag to the floor. He took your Walkman out from the bag and pulled out the cassette, his heart racing.

Classics of the 50’s, of course. He wasn’t surprised in the least. He let out a small chuckle.

“The Teen Queens?” Eddie whispered. “This looks old as shit.” He rolled his eyes endearingly and popped the cassette back in, slipping the headphones over his ears.

The first track played, already a few seconds in.

Eddie my love, I love you so How I've waited for you you'll never know Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long

Eddie couldn’t help the full-body blush that washed over him or the stupid grin than took over his face. It was ridiculous. There was absolutely no way you were listening to an old do-wop love song because it had his name in it. That wasn’t possible. You had to be listening to any number of other songs on this cassette, which he could tell you loved judging by the scratches on the front. He thought back to your quick glance this morning, and Steve’s teasing. He shook the thoughts from his head.

Either way, whether it was for him or not, he found himself pressing rewind and listening to the song roar back to life. He closed his eyes softly and imagined what your prom dress might look like a month from now, how crazy he would look next to you slow dancing to this, with your arms around his neck, his hands on your waist. What corsage he would get you. He felt himself slightly swaying, getting into the music, before his thoughts drifted to you dancing with Steve, with Jason Carver, with anyone more suited to have the honor of dancing with you. He tried to ignore the pestering thoughts when the next song kicked in, “So All Alone”.

How appropriate.

He rewound the tape and cut it off with a loud click. He heard the hallways come back to life with students headed to lunch. “Shit.” He said out loud. Now he had your cassette. Now he had to find some way to give it to you.

Eddie sat at the Hellfire table, turning a pretzel over and over between his two fingers. His head was tilted down as if he was contemplating the pretzel, but his eyes were looking up through his bangs towards where you sat next to Robin. He thought of your music still in his bag. He knew he should return it, but the longer he had it, the weirder it would be that he had kept it this long. The more people would probably think he planned on stealing it for good. He resolved to return it to you at the end of the day and mention that he had trouble finding you, that he didn’t have time, that he forgot he had it – any obvious lie to get him off the hook for listening to your tape without asking. For daydreaming while listening to your tape. In the empty bathroom. Without asking. He was a creep and there was no excuse, really, but he couldn’t help the stupid grin on his face when he thought about the song, about you listening to any song with his name associated with love. He thought about you calling him “my love”.

“Eddie? You home?” Dustin waved his hand in front of Eddie’s face, and it took Eddie a split second to break himself from his thoughts, the tips of his ears a deep red under his mop of hair. He realized he had been completely ignoring everything said to him throughout most of lunch, staring at you across the lunchroom with a dopey grin. Shit. He was definitely a creep.

Dustin followed Eddie’s line of sight over to your table and then looked back to Eddie with a furrowed brow.

“Y/N and Robin?” Dustin questioned quietly, but not quietly enough. Eddie’s eyes went comically wide and he snapped his head down to his lunch in front of him.

“Shut up you goblin.” Eddie scolded Dustin under his breath. The rest of the guys at the Hellfire table looked over, quite obviously, towards you and Robin.

“Don’t look you idiots!” Eddie turned to look at Jeff as if they were in conversation when you looked up.

“Isn’t she with Harrington?” Jeff pipes up after a moment, and Eddie’s foot finds his leg under the table, giving a swift kick.

“I just… I found her Walkman today in class and I haven’t had time to return it to her. I was just waiting for the right time.” Eddie admitted, looking at his friends, who clearly didn’t believe that was the only reason he was staring at you.

“Well, hey, if you need, I can just give it to her when Steve picks us up after school.” Dustin offered casually, but Eddie didn’t miss the glint in his eye. Eddie’s immediate reaction was to tell him absolutely not, that he wanted to give it to you. But he could tell Dustin was waiting for that response. Besides, the more he made a big deal about the cassette, the more Dustin would be curious and figure out Eddie’s internal crisis. So Eddie took a deep breath, plastered on his best indifferent face, and said “yeah okay, sure. Thanks man.” And went back to his pretzels. Dustin’s face fell slightly.

The second the last bell rang, Eddie nervously walked over to his locker. He knew Dustin would be there shortly to pick up your Walkman. Eddie didn’t want to give it up. He wanted to steal the cassette for himself and listen to it every day, pretending that you listened to it just for him. Out of all the girls he’d ever met at Hawkins High, or anywhere, really, you were the only one that had completely disrupted his life. You were the only one who could get him to buy strawberry chapstick, or consider that yellow might be his new favorite color. You were the only one who could get him to listen to anything without heavy metal guitair.

“Hey, Eddie.” Dustin called out as he approached Eddie’s locker. “Got Y/N’s Walkman?”

“Yeah, here.” Eddie said in a hushed tone. “Uh, Henderson, I’ve got a question.” Eddie continued. He hadn’t meant to say anything, but his intrusive thoughts were winning again, and he couldn’t handle not knowing the truth.

“Sure?” Dustin replied somewhat skeptically, looking up at Eddie with an eyebrow raised.

“Y/N and Harrington… Are they….” Eddie trailed off, giving a look to Dustin that read ‘you know what I mean’.

“Are they dating?” Dustin asked quietly, and Eddie could only manage a small nod. He kept his face as neutral as he could, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He could not believe he just asked that. He had much more confidence than he had any right to have.

“No.” Dustin said, and Eddie relaxed. “Not yet.” Eddie tensed again.

“You fuckin’ serious, Henderson?” Eddie whined, and Dustin laughed, taking the Walkman from Eddie. Eddie huffed and opened his locker, avoiding Dustin’s gaze. He tried to calm his breathing, hoping and praying that if he kept his cool, Dustin wouldn’t investigate further. It was an innocent question.

“I was just curious. It seemed like they were. And, well, you know Harrington.” Eddie mumbled in his defense, and Dustin rolled his eyes.

Dustin looked at Eddie unintentionally eyeing the Walkman he now held, with a look of desperation.

“You sure you just don’t want to give it to her?” Dustin asked, and Eddie furiously shook his head

“No, no. It’s better that you do it. She’ll probably think I stole it or something. Or did something weird to it.” Eddie reasoned.

“Well, did you?” Dustin asked, and Eddie blanched. He didn’t technically steal anything, and he didn’t technically do anything weird to the player. Right?

“Uh- N- No. Of course not. She just left it behind in class. She’s probably been looking for it all day.”

Dustin smiled, watching Eddie stare at nothing in his locker for a humorously long amount of time. Dustin silently popped the cassette out of the player, wondering what you had been listening to, and if this was somehow contributing to Eddie’s odd behavior. Sure, he always seemed like he had the hots for you, but today he was extra spacey and obvious.

“The Teen Queens?” Dustin asked out loud, and Eddie’s head immediately snapped over to look down at him. He grabbed for the tape but Dustin stepped out of the way.

“Eddie my love?” Dustin asked incredulously. “Holy shit! Steve was right!” Dustin laughed, and then looked up at Eddie, almost apologetically. Eddie froze completely in his desperation to snatch the tape out of Dustin’s grasp.

“Steve was right? About?” Eddie asked after a moment of silence. Dustin smiled but looked somewhat guilty, like he had said something he wasn’t supposed to.

“I’m so dead.” Dustin muttered as he tore out of the school towards Steve’s car.

“Henderson! Get your ass back here!” Eddie yelled as he ran after him, voice ringing through the hallway as their tennis shoes squeaked on the floor.

Running out to the parking lot, Eddie hot on his heels, Dustin slid the tape back into your Walkman and shoved it into Robin’s hands as he dove into Steve’s car, slamming and locking the door behind him. Eddie slowed down as he saw you approaching the car, and quickly smoothed out his hair, trying to act casual.

“Hey, look! Dustin found your Walkman.” Robin smiled, looking up at Eddie and holding your Walkman out towards you.

“Thank God! I was looking for it all day!” you sighed in relief.

“Important cassette in there. You better be careful.” Robin added, and your face turned a shade of red that Eddie had never seen before.

“You, uh, left it in class,” Eddie added, hoping to give himself some hero credit, but you just turned even redder. You sputtered out a thank you and climbed into Steve’s car, Robin following.

“Later Munson,” Steve called out as he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Eddie standing there in disbelief. Was it true?

Eddie, my love

I love you so

Eddie was supposed to be doing something, anything productive, but instead he sat hand sewing a new patch to his vest while listening to the cassette repeatedly. It had been two days since he had found your Walkman. He spent the better part of his Friday evening searching high and low for a copy of the cassette, which he eventually found at a place a little closer to the city. The domesticity of it all was truly sickening, even Eddie could agree, but his heart was in an endless pattern of fluttering and dropping, thinking about the rare possibility you actually liked him.

Eddie was torn from his thoughts by the piercing ring of the phone. He rushed over, desperately grasping it from the wall to answer, hoping for some reason that it would be you. He heard familiar giggling on the other end, and he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want, shit for brains?” Eddie grumbled, but he was still smiling.

“Who are you and what happened to the real Eddie Munson?” the voice said on the other end. “Is everything okay?” she was joking but sounded slightly concerned.

“Yes, Max, everything is fine. Why?” Eddie questioned, and then realized he had been playing the music out loud with the windows open. Very open.

“Because it sounds like some grandma music in there,” Max replied before Eddie could try to defend himself.

“Mind your business,” Eddie muttered and clicked off the cassette. “Better?”

“Thank God. Play something more metal,” Max said, and then hung up the phone. Eddie rolled his eyes and switched the tapes to one he thought would be appropriate enough for Max.

The following Monday, Eddie couldn’t seem to keep his stomach from flipping as he stood by his locker, watching you and Steve have your morning chat. He was telling you something very adamantly, and you were shaking your head repeatedly. He saw you take your Walkman out of your backpack and his heart skipped.

You continued your light argument with Steve and eventually walked away, leaving him standing alone at your locker. To Eddie’s disappointment, it didn’t seem like a very serious argument, more friendly. He looked back quickly at his locker as if he hadn’t just been outright staring at the pair of you, but he felt guilty, immediately.

“Edward, let’s talk.” Eddie heard a voice from behind him and he jumped.

“Jesus, Robin. Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“Ask her out. Please.” Robin said, though it sounded more like a demand than a request.

“Who?” Eddie questioned, playing dumb.

“You know exactly who I am talking about,” Robin deadpanned, and Eddie scrunched up his nose.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Robin sounded exasperated, closing her eyes.

“There’s no way she’d want me.” Eddie didn’t mean for it to sound so pathetic, but it did. And he had no idea why he was admitting anything to Robin, who was barely a friend of his at all.

“How do you know?” She asked curiously. Eddie could tell she was trying her best to be supportive, but all he wanted was for her to disappear.

“She’s so… I don’t know… Bubbly? Happy? Cute? I mean, she listens to 50′s classics–“ Eddie abruptly cut himself off.

“You DID snoop!” Robin’s mouth opened wide, and she jabbed a finger out at Eddie.

“I may have seen the tape... So?” Eddie defended.

“And then you bought the exact same one? That doesn’t sound like your style of music, Ed.” Robin added, sounding like she was an attorney questioning a witness, and Eddie stared at her. “I mean, 15 times, that’s quite a lot for one song.” She tried to keep her composure but she let out a little chuckle. It took Eddie a moment to register.

“That little shit! I’m boarding up her fucking window tomorrow!” Eddie groaned. There was no actual malice behind it, but Robin could tell he was becoming extremely embarrassed. Eddie wished he could crawl in his locker.

“Look, I’m not trying to torture you here. All I’m saying is, whatever you’re thinking about the song, you’re correct. And Steve is nowhere in the picture, at all. There are certain people at this school who don’t hate Eddie Munson, maybe even like him a little.” She shrugged and stared at Eddie, waiting for a response. She made no indication that she planned on leaving until he responded.

“Goddamnit. Okay!” Eddie said after a few uncomfortable moments of Robin’s eyes on him.

“Good,” she smiled and walked past Eddie into the classroom.

“Thanks, I guess,” Eddie muttered, though Robin didn’t hear him.

Eddie was going to wait until the end of the day, but he couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart, especially with Robin looking at him expectantly every time she saw him. He never realized how many times in a day he truly ran into Robin until now. He waited until he saw you stand up and clear your spot, exiting the lunchroom, before he made a move.

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” he muttered under his breath, standing up to follow you. When he stood up, Dustin gave him a questioning smile. Eddie sighed and nodded his head. Dustin turned to look at Mike, and Max a few tables away, who perked up and gave a thumbs up to Eddie. He needed friends his own age.

Eddie walked somewhat quickly out of the lunchroom and to the hallway, heading towards your locker. You stood there looking at something in a textbook, chewing a pencil in between your soft lips. Eddie’s breath stopped short.

“Uh, Y/N.” Eddie started, still standing several feet away from you. You turned around and gave him a warm smile.

“Yeah? What’s up?” you asked, shutting the textbook and setting it back in your locker.

“You left your Walkman yesterday in Mr. Hill’s class,” Eddie stated, walking closer.

“I’m aware,” you laughed, finding his awkwardness endearing.

“Oh, I know, uh, I was just saying that, uh, I’m sorry. I should have given it to you sooner, but I maybe took a peek inside to see what you were listening to. That wasn’t cool of me, I should have grabbed it and chased you down or something.” Eddie admitted, and your face turned white.

“You… saw my cassette?” you asked weakly, and Eddie nodded, smiling. He had a small burst of hope that Robin wasn’t completely lying to him.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s no Metallica, but it wasn’t bad,” Eddie shrugged. Your eyes went wide.

“You listened to it?” Your hands went up to cover the redness and heat of your cheeks.

“Well of course I did. I kind of like you, and I wanted to see what you listened to.” Eddie looked at something behind your head, because he knew if he looked at your flushed face and gaping mouth he would be too far gone to continue asking you out. After a brief moment of silence, he continued, feeling a surge of bravery.

“I don’t know if it’s too early or too late to ask this, I mean I’ve never really done it, I’ve never even actually gone but-“ Eddie began, then cut himself off to take a breath. “Would you want to go to Prom with me next month?”

Eddie had only meant to ask you for a dinner date, something small, but again, his thoughts won over. You sucked in a squeaky breath.

“Yes. I would love to.” A huge smile broke across your face, and Eddie almost couldn’t believe it. But, of course, he was willing to push his luck a little.

“And maybe, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you want to hang out sometime before then? Like this weekend?” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling hopefully.

“Hell yeah-“ you blurted out and your hand slapped over your mouth. “I mean, absolutely!” You and Eddie both laughed and you loosely wrapped an arm around him. He leaned down, his face suffocatingly close to yours, in the best kind of way.

Before either of you knew it, your lips were connected softly. Eddie’s heart raced. If only you weren’t right in the middle of the school hallway. You smiled into the kiss.

A few seconds in, the bell rang. Eddie expected you to jump away from him, to shy away from receiving physical affection from the Freak, but you kept your arms around him and placed a chaste kiss to both his cheeks as the hallway flooded with students heading back to class.

And Robin was right, there were people at this school that didn’t hate Eddie Munson, maybe even loved him.

#stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagines #i love the idea of writing neighbor!max and eddie #sorry this is so long #i havent written in such a long time I miss it so much #if I do a part 2 it will either be the events from your POV or an extension where you go to prom?#maybe #probably not

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slumped-in-the-arms-of-fiction · 1 year

Text

Chapter 13, Neighbors, of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Cheerleader is finally up!

Chapter summary:

A little bit of panic in the aftermath of the kiss!

Notes:

Sorry for the wait, this was not coming together for a while. And now you have a big chapter, for some reason. Enjoy!

Chrissy stood at the end of the bed, arms crossed, and stared at Nancy before replying.

“Eddie kissed me.”

Nancy was clearly very hungover as it took a couple of seconds, her eyes widening as Chrissy’s words sank in. But before she could say anything, Chrissy started talking again – fast – and paced the floor, gesticulating wildly.

“I didn’t even kiss him back! OK. Fine, fine. I kissed him back! Is that what you want me to say? Huh?”

“I literally haven’t said a word yet.”

“Yeah but when you do, oh ho, when you do, are you gonna throw in a couple of ‘I told you so’s, maybe have a little gloat about how you were right about me liking Eddie and Eddie liking me—except, EXCEPT, I don’t even know if he actually really does because I saw him this morning and he would barely even talk, he just panic moonwalked away from me—”

“He… what?”

#stranger things #Hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #new girl au #you love fanfic right? here here take it #my writing

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writing-wh0re · 5 months

Text

“You fucked up and I’m glad you did.”

♥ pairing: Eddie Munson x reader (platonic), Steve Harrington x reader (friends to lovers)

♥ summary: “Based on this ask - Reader likes Eddie Munson on the low but then he starts dating Chrissy. So the reader starts dating Steve because he comforts her after the heartbreak. Eddie realizes how stupid he was to not see the reader as their lover”

♥ warnings: smoking, slight angst, fluff ending, crying, pet name: sweet girl, language. A/N: I don't typically write for steve or angst so I hope you like it @b00kw0rmsworld xx

♥ wc: 1,712

♥ masterlist

♥ Taglist

You watched Eddie enter the party, something that was a rare sight but since you had made the cheer squad, it was a sight you enjoyed. Butterflies filled your stomach, ignoring the girl in front of you and slipping away from the conversation to greet him.

You hadn’t seen Eddie for a few weeks, both of you having scheduling issues now that you’re on the team and he’s completing more regular D&D nights with the others.

“Y/n.” His face lights up as he embraces you, the smell of his collagen and the smoothness of the leather jacket envelopes you. You hold him tight against you, probably for longer than normal but you’ve missed him, missed his embrace.

“I’m surprised to see you here, I didn’t think you would show.”

Eddie smiles at you, quickly looking behind him as a few hoops and hollers fill the air as Chrissy slips into the home.

Chrissy. She was everything, gorgeous, smart, kind and why the fuck is she holding Eddies hand.

Your eyes flick from their fingers laced together, watching as Chrissy wraps herself around Eddie's arm, smiling at the people around you.

“Oh.” The sound slips past your lips before you can catch it. You heartbeat picks up and you swallow the lump in your throat.

Chrissy’s eyes light up at your presence, quickly wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you into an embrace.

She smells like him.

“It’s so good to see you.”

You clear your throat, pulling away from Chrissy and faking a smile.

“Likewise.”

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” Steve places his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into the side of him, relief washes over you in the presence of your neighbour and friend.

Eddie looks over your embrace with Steve, you could have sworn his jaw clenched.

“Eddie was telling me that you and him play that D&D game, maybe the three of us could play sometime?” You smile at Chrissy, her effort at trying to mingle with you while you process what is occurring in front of you.

“Woah Munson, I didn’t know you and Chrissy were an item?”

Thank god for Steve.

“Um yeah, we’ve kept it on the down low for a few weeks.”

“Uh, weeks, more like two months.” Chrissy states placing her hand over his hellfire t-shirt.

“Two months, that’s pretty solid.” Steve speaks for you, his hand rubbing the top of your shoulder.

“If you both wouldn’t mind, I owe y/n a game of beer pong.” Steve nods his head at the pair, slipping his arm from around your shoulders and lacing your fingers together. You smile at Eddie and Chrissy, following behind Steve as he guides you outside of the house. He walks past the beer pong table and towards the tall tree out the back, a blanket of darkness falling over the two of you.

“C’mere.” Steve whispers, pulling you to his chest as you sob, tears falling from your eyes, water staining his shirt. Steve rests his head on the top of yours, flicking his eyes to the house as the music thumps through the air. He gently sways you to the music soothing you.

“Ho-how did you know?” Your sobs break up your sentence, your eyes looking up into Steves. He smiles weakly, using his thumb to brush a tear away from your cheek.

“I could tell that look from anywhere, I had the same one with Nancy and Jonathan.”

You giggle, tilting your head back to attempt to keep the tears at bay, “I rescued you during that one.”

“That you did.” Steve smiles, pulling you back into his chest, “Thought it was time to return the favour.”

“Thank you.” You whisper against his shirt, you pull away, your eyes scanning his outfit as you start fanning his chest, attempting to dry your tears. Steve chuckles, patting his denim jacket, pulling out a cigarette before tilting the packet towards you. You simply nod, taking a stick and leaning towards his lighter, you take a slow deep drag, holding the smoke before letting it slip past your lips, the small cloud dispersing into the night sky.

Steve keeps his eyes on you, he’d be lying if he said you didn’t look gorgeous right now. Your red lipstick staining the cigarette, the way your lips parted to release the smoke, your perfectly manicured fingers softly rolling the stick between them.

“How long have you liked Eddie?”

The butterflies flutter around inside of you, the same lump appearing in your throat at the thought of him with Chrissy.

“A while, a little over a year.”

“And you didn’t make a move?”

You sigh, watching as Steve panics, coughing on the smoke slightly.

“You don’t have to answer that.”

“I honestly don’t know, the timing never felt right.” You take another drag, your head becoming floaty as you drop the cigarette to the grass, stepping on it and placing it in the empty solo cup.

Steve simply nods, noticing the tears reappearing in your eyes.

“Want me to drive you home?”

“Haven’t you been drinking?”

“I haven’t even had one.”

“Well, aren't you boring.” You smirk, causing Steve to roll his eyes, tongue in cheek. He takes one last drag before following you lead and discarding the bud.

“I’d appreciate that Steve.”

Steve smiles, holding his hand out to you which you gladly accept. A warmth fills your body at his touch, feeling secure beside him. Steve leads you out of the party, your eyes searching the numerous bodies before the land on Eddie, his arm around Chrissy’s waist as she talks to her friends. His eyes meet yours briefly, a flicker of hurt at your tear stained cheeks. You squeeze Steve’s hand unknowingly causing him to pull you closer to him before walking out of the door.

You slide into the passenger seat, resting your head against the window, sniffling as Steve grabs your hands. A small knowing smile is shared between you both before he starts the drive to your house.

| | |

It had been six months since the house party. Your relationship with Eddie unfortunately became non-existent, other than small conversations at school about school work. However your relationship with Steve had blossomed into something so incredible, you had felt like an idiot for never considering him to be more than a friend but after both hanging out more, your feelings grew.

You were lounging on the couch with Steve, flicking through the channels, trying to find something to enjoy when there’s a knock on your front door. You look at him quizzingly, a pang of anxiety hits you, worrying something has happened to your parents who are out of town.

“Relax sweet girl, I’ll get it.”

You smile at Steve, loving that he can read you like a book.

Muffled voices fill the air, your curiosity grows as you slip off the couch, tiptoeing towards the front door before stopping in your tracks.

Eddie.

“Man, just let me see her.”

“Do you not realise how much of an idiot you are for letting her slip through your fingers?”

You hear Eddie sigh, you heartbeat picking up at Steve’s words.

“I know, I saw it on her face that night.”

Steve sighs, you lean against the wall keeping yourself hidden as you eavesdrop.

“You fucked up and I’m glad you did.” Steve whispers, “Because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have realised how amazing y/n truly is and I wouldn’t have been able to experience a love like this.”

Blush fills your cheeks, a smile dancing across your lips at his words.

“Steve, who is it?” You call before rounding the corner.

Steve leans on the door, opening it more to show Eddie, his face flushed and eyes glassy.

“Hey.” He whispers weakly.

“You okay?” You want to reach out to him and hold him close but you refrain.

“Uh yeah, no I will be, I uh.” Eddie takes a deep breath, looking over you. You hair is thrown up into a bun, Steve's shirt baggy on your figure and your small running shorts hugging your thighs. “I was just coming by to say hi, we, um haven’t spoken in a while.”

You smile weakly at the boy in front of you, his nerves consuming him as he fidgets with his rings.

“It has been a few weeks, it’s a little late, we were actually heading to bed shortly.” You gesture to Steve who smiles at you, his hand resting on your waist.

“Oh, shit, sorry for interrupting.”

“No, uh, dont be.” You smile, “Why don’t Steve and I join you for a game? Still hosting on Thursdays?”

Eddie chuckles, wiping his nose as he sniffles, his eyes glossy. “Yeah, still on Thursday’s, still the same campaign.”

“Well surely my character can be reintroduced, maybe I went on a side quest and found Steve’s character?” You suggest, feeling excited at being able to explore the D&D world again. Both with Steve and Eddie, although your feelings for him have fizzled down to platonic love, you still want to be friends.

“That sounds like something I can work on.”

“Awesome.” Steve smiles, causing Eddie to nod slowly, his hand playing with a lock of hair.

“We will see you on Thursday.”

“Yeah, sweet.” Eddie smiles, turning away from the door as Steve closes it.

Steve releases a deep breath, leaning his back against the closed door. His eyes search yours as a smile creeps across your face.

“A love like this?” You gesture between the two of you, watching Steve’s face fill with blush, his eyes squeezing shut, a huge smile on his face.

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Mmhm” You hum, placing your hands on his face and pulling him down to you. Your eyes lock together, noses tracing against each other.

“Did you mean it or was it to rile him up?”

“I meant it, god, I meant it.”

You smile, your lips ghosting his.

“Good because I love you.”

Steve closes the gap between the two of you, his hands on your hips. Your lips move in sync, fitting together like the perfect puzzle. He pulls away from your mouth, placing kisses all over your face, mumbling ‘love you’ against your skin.

| | |

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