Eddie talks in his sleep. You think it’s the sweetest thing ever, lying next to him. His weight fully pressed into the mattress, warm and solid and comforting. He hogs the covers and totally starfishes but he’s just cute enough to get away with it. In between snores you’ll hear him mumbling as he lays on his back, eyelids flitting and deep in sleep. The things he says are so incredibly off the wall that you’ll be in fits of giggles in the middle of the night. He gets conversational too-
“babe the mice are fighting”
“Tell them to stop Eds”
“They’ve got knives”
“Roll for initiative”
And then suddenly he’ll be snoring again, entirely unaware. You tease him about it mercilessly come morning and he just hides his face and groggily tells you to fuck off (with love)
based on a discussion I had with @latenightsimping about their bf ☠️
don't mind me i'm just thinking about how Eddie Munson would SO pretend to be someone you know if you come up to him in a store or so and whisper to him how this guy has been creeping you out for ages 'n he would take to his role so well 😭 i need to shift dimensions I need to be with this guy
i'd commit unspeakable horrors to be his girlfriend
You almost feel bad practically tackling the man from behind. All he was doing was grabbing a can of soup off of the shelf, and you made him your impromptu best friend.
He lurches forward at the contact, and turns to look at you with fire in his eyes. You're absolutely certain he's going to scold you, but he sizes you up at his eyes soften slightly. He raises one eyebrow, a silent 'what the fuck do you want?' and you ramble breathlessly.
"Please pretend you're my friend," You whisper, the squeaky wheels of the cart you're dreading the owner of coming towards you down the aisle, "He's following me and I don't know what to do."
He doesn't even blink. His face doesn't shift in the slightest, and for a quick moment you're unsure whether he heard you at all. But his arm curls around your own, and he spins you to face the soups.
"-so I was thinking chicken and stars, but R2-D2 absolutely kills as a noodle," He drawls, ringed fingers gesturing vaguely at each can that he names, "'S whatever you want, babe."
You hear your supermarket stalker's wheels squeak to a stop at the end of the aisle, and you don't dare turn to see his face. You'd prefer never to see it again, a reminder of the lewd comment he'd made in the produce section about melons.
"Star Wars," You decide, plucking the can off of the shelf and handing it to him, "Uh, thank you."
"Now we need," He squints at his list, tongue poking out of his mouth and sticking to his upper lip, "Ritz crackers, and chicken for tomorrow night."
He mimes looking for the crackers, noticing the man standing at the end of the aisle, waiting.
"Oh, sorry," He lifts the back wheels of the cart with the handle, scooting it sideways so that the man can pass, though you both know he doesn't want to, "Were we in your way? Go ahead, we're gonna be here for a while."
The man stares at you, you can feel it. But your new best friend sets a hand gently, politely on the small of your back, leading you around him and sandwiching you between the aisle and him. He holds the list out in front of you, "Babe, can you tell what that says? Can't even read my own writing," He laughs good-naturedly, "I think it says 'blueberries'?"
"Or blub errands," You try deciphering his messy scrawl, weight lifting from your shoulders as the man finally decides to move, crossing your path and bumping the wheel of your new cart as he does.
"Definitely blub errands," The boy beside you snickers, glancing at the reflective panel of the aisle beside him to watch for when the man finally turns a corner, "Some nice improv, babe."
You're not sure why he's still using the nickname, the man is out of earshot. But you're too relieved to care, physically relaxing as your shoulders slump.
"Oh my god," You let out a much bigger breath than you intend to, almost dizzying yourself, "Thank you so much. I just- he was always there and I didn't know what to do! I'm sorry I almost knocked you over," You turn sheepish, eyeing his ankle that you're fairly certain he'd twisted in the meetup, "Are you okay?"
"You're fine," He waves off your apology, rolling the ankle in question with a cheeky grin, "I'm tough."
"You look it," You eye him up and down, a silver chain dangling from his belt that's almost covered by a leather jacket, "Do you have, like, a really big tattoo of a heart with a knife through it on your arm? Bonus points if it says mom."
He laughs incredulously, shrugging the shoulder of his jacket off to prove you wrong, "Uh, no, but thanks for the idea."
You let out a laugh, something that seems impossible considering how scared you just were, but one that comes naturally. The boy you'd found seems to be the type you'd go for both in and out of a life-threatening scenario, and you're starting to wonder if you'll get this lucky with any real relationships you're in.
"Well, listen," He stuffs the list in his pocket, a scrap of the paper sticking out, "I've only got a few more things. If you want, we can check out together," He motions towards the hand-held basket you're holding, "'Cause I don't think that guy's gone. I'd offer you a ride home," He reaches a hand up to scratch aimlessly at the nape of his neck, "But I drive a van, and I think me asking you to get into it would be creepier than anything that guy did."
"It's okay!" You assure him, a light laugh escaping you at his earnestness, "I'm sure I'll be fine driving home. But seriously, thank you," You smile at him, clutching the handles of your basket tighter in an effort not to hug him, "I really appreciate this."
"Anytime, babe." There's that nickname again, paired with the grin you'd seen before, "Now come walk with me, you're helping me find the blub errands."
Hello,dear writer!if your requests are still open,how about an s/o that gets really lovesick for eddie when drunk?
absolutely!! tysm for ur request!!! ♡ fem!reader
"Eddie," you say, sweet but clumsy, smelling way too much like red wine.
He frowns at you because you've lost your jacket and an earring, and he hadn't known there was red wine in Harrington's house to drink.
"Where've you been?" he asks, a concerned murmur. Your neck is hot under his hand as he pulls you toward him, an intoxicated flush.
Your earring is definitely missing.
"Steve found wine. His mom's wine. And she's, like, super rich."
"Yeah? So you had the whole bottle?"
"Two glasses," you correct.
Your voice is lilting, near melodious as you talk, and your smile is uninhibited. Being drunk has made you look very, very pretty. Eddie wants to sit you down in his lap and tell you all about it, but sober you is really gonna miss that earring.
He follows down the crook of your elbow and takes your hand into his. You make sure to thread your fingers and squeeze three times. He squeezes back.
Through the hallway and into the kitchen again, he finds Steve and Robin in states similar to your own. Being drunk hasn't made either of them any prettier — Steve has his head in Robin's lap, eyes glassy and somewhere else as she pets his forehead.
"Steve," she coos, "you're so dumb."
Eddie laughs. You spin, stop, and beam at him. Your tenacity is kind of creepy.
"What?' he asks. He looks down at the front of his shirt. "I got something on me?"
"You have the nicest laugh ever, teddy."
"Oh, you're drunk. Can't believe I forgot."
You ignore his serious tone and bring your joined hands up to your chest. "Laugh again? It was really nice."
"Let me think about it."
You look over his shoulder at his friends, who seem to be having simultaneous breakdowns. Robin has dissolved into laughter thin and delicate as candy floss. Steve complains in her lap about being a spectacle for her, "You're fucking so mean. Where did Y/N go?"
"Oh, she's right there. Hey! Are you gonna come and save me?"
You step closer to Eddie and drop your cheek into his chest. He raises his eyebrows in surprise as you begin to nuzzle like an overeager puppy.
"With my boy, sorry."
"Ugh, whatever. Why are you in here?" he asks Eddie.
"You want me so bad, Stevie-kins."
Steve chokes on a breath and turns into Robin's stomach, muttering, "This is all your fault. Told you not to let me drink wine again."
You've lost all will to move on, melting and melded to Eddie's front. Your hands rove over his waist until you've found what you want — the hem of his t-shirt. You slide a hand underneath and he tries not to laugh as your fingertips tickle as they climb his back, nail scratching gently against the dip of his spine.
"What's the matter with you?" he asks, wondering if maybe you're clingy because you're upset.
"Y'smell really nice. Nice and," — you wrap both arms around him tight, the soft of your stomach squished to his — "warm and... You're such a good hugger. Best hugs ever."
He ignores your drunken little hiccups and instead looks over your head to scour the floor for your earring.
"Sweetheart," he says, dipping his face to speak into your ear, "I'm never letting you out of my sight again." Because you're wasted, he doesn't say. Extremely wasted, considering you'd been apart for half an hour.
"I don't wanna be away from you either. Ever. Makes me so sad when you have to go."
He softens. "Maybe we should go home, huh? Get you into bed."
He rubs circles into your back to sweeten the deal. Eddie's nothing if not persuasive.
"No, just wanna hug you," you mumble.
"You can hug me in bed."
"Wanna hug you now."
Eddie's not an idiot. If a pretty girl like you wants to hug him all night then that's what's gonna happen. Your back rises under his hands, your drunken breathing slow and sluggish, and you make a contented sound that vibrates into each of his fingers. He pats your back in return, to say Yeah, the feeling's mutual.
"Kiss?" you mumble.
He leans back. You smooth all the hair out of his face in preparation, eyes widened by an obvious infatuation. You almost step on his toes as you raise off your heels and give him a surprisingly lovely kiss. You taste like wine, and you're a smidge too far to the right, but the tips of your noses touch and you're soft as silk under his hands.
"Love you so much," you murmur into him, turning your face to one side.
He kisses you harder than he means to and then holds you at shoulders length. "Love you, sweet thing. Home now?"
"Mm, yeah please."
He cups your cheek. You smile until your lashes touch at the corners.
✧ ﹒ ♡ ⁺ ៹ ﹒ ♡ ﹒ ✧ ₊
❥ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 -
♡ use your panties to jerk off.
♡ steal one of your stuffies and use it to get himself off.
♡ make you wear no panties in public, for easy access.
♡ take lewd pictures of you and keep them in his wallet.
♡ tease you in front of the entire hellfire club, rubbing your slit up and down until you break.
♡ 100% fuck you in front of steve.
♡ give you a plushie covered in his cum, you don’t know that tho.
♡ record you touching yourself.
♡ leave marks everywhere without regard to who sees them.
♡ tell you to hump his pillow so he can later use your scent to get off.
♡ totally fuck your boobs.
♡ overestimate you by tying you up to the bed and leaving a vibrator running on your pussy.
♡ would also fuck you deep and hard with a dildo.
♡ make steve cum inside of you, then lick it clean.
♡ would try to make you cum only by playing with your tits.
♡ make you ride his chest to get off.
♡ would let you suck on his fingers.
♡ would throat train you...while recording the whole thing.
✧ ﹒ ♡ ⁺ ៹ ﹒ ♡ ﹒ ✧ ₊
Last night I was thinking about how Eddie would absolutely be the type of bf who would be OBSESSED with your butt. Like his hand is in your back pocket in the hallways and any time you walked away you knew you’d get a little gentle slap on the ass. But on the other hand in private, his red handprint would be a regular occurrence on your cheeks. For his birthday you gave him a framed Polaroid of his handprint on your ass. He would never shut up about how perfectly he could grip your butt in his hands, like it was made just for him. He seems like such a booty man to me and ugh 🥺 I want him to touch my butt 😍
𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.
bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader
✶There was an obvious implication as to why Eddie would invite you to ring in the New Year with him. Even his friends knew it, leaving you two alone at the countdown to 1986. Would tonight be the night he finally kissed you?✶
NSFW — mechanic!eddie, fluff, flirting, being dumb teenagers young adults, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use
chapter: 8/? [wc: 8.1k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08
Chapter 8: Midnight Sparks
You nestled deeper into your coat, and jogged to the door of Bradley’s Big Buy, wincing from the glare of the gray clouds reflected on the windows. The forecast said it was supposed to be sunny today.
It started with a weekly phone call like any other. You were huddled on your bed, face turned away from your roommate’s prying gaze. She sat at her study desk, cranking the timer you both used to keep things civil.
Whatever. What did she care if the line was busy, anyway? It’s not like she had a new boyfriend to call her after she was dumped two weeks ago.
“They give you a few days off, don’t they?” Eddie probed with a persuasive inflection at the end of his sentence. “C’mon, it’s New Years. Why don’t you swing by and pay a visit to your dear ol’ pal, Eddie?”
He was smirking like a villain, wasn’t he? So smug, so carefree. Cracking a smile to where his top lip met his cheek dimple, showing off the mischievous gleam on his canines. It’s just the worst expression. Detestable.
“Swing by?” you repeated incredulously. “In what world is a trip to see your sorry ass in Indiana ‘swinging by’?”
“I know you don’t have plans for New Year’s–”
“You don’t know that.”
“Do you have plans?”
“..No,” you admitted.
You could picture him with irritating clarity. How his raised eyebrows fell into diabolical slants, eyes crinkled at the corners, stupid grin deepening once he caught you; how he shrugged and clapped his hands when he assumed a pitying, pompous tone after sucking his teeth, “Well, I guess that settles it, then! You’re coming here to spend New Year’s Eve with us. I’ll make the trip worth it, I promise. Tons of fireworks, hanging out with the guys, and hey, I’ll even throw in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of a private show of your favorite band, Corroded Coffin, up close and personal.” He paused to grant you the space for one sigh, then he sweetened the deal. “I’ll tune up your car for you.”
He laughed. “Free, but I do accept gifts and favors as a form of payment, my dear.”
“As humble as ever, I see,” you said, rather than commit to more. It was bad enough he had you wrapped around his finger, speaking gently into the phone snug against his mouth, dragging his lips over the plastic, invoking the tender side of him when trying to convince you to come see him. Where a subconscious sadness smoothed the sharp edges of his teasing.
Of course you wanted to see him again.. However, the traditional way of ringing in the New Year sat like a weight on your chest. The same creeping anxiety of knowing he’d ask you to come to Hawkins again, and the same dread of knowing nothing would come of it.
It was finally your turn to be noticed.
“Fine, you’ve worn me down. I’ll come. But I’m not happy about it.” You’ve made worst decisions in your life.
And that’s the story of how a boy persuaded you into coming back to the small town you had no intention of returning to without a good reason.
Eyes adjusting to the dingy grocery store, you scanned the short aisles for anyone you recognized, and were relieved to see the place was rather empty, aside from the owner doing a crossword puzzle at the counter. You grabbed a hand basket and perused the cold section at the back. Subsisting on convenient snacks and coffee since you left campus, you were more than ready for one of the ready-made sandwiches in the deli section, and any piece of fresh fruit or vegetable you could find.
Reading over the flavors of Gatorade in the drink cooler, you grabbed one, dropped it in the basket on the floor and stood up, arguing in your head about if you should order take-out to be delivered for the group tonight, or wait and see if someone like Jeff was considerate enough to think of that ahead of time. All of this left you vulnerable to the looming presence behind you, who was bending to speak over your shoulder.
You spun so fast, the creep’s lips brushed the shell of your ear. His warm breath fanned your neck. Flashes of walking to your dorm alone at night had you springing into action before a second thought crossed your mind.
At the front of the store, the owner looked up from his newspaper, peering over his glasses at your nuisance.
“Whoa, there,” Eddie laughed, tracing the corner of his mouth with his tongue, doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement amidst his surprise. He made a motion like he was going to cup his hands over your fists to ease you out of your defensive position, then thought better of it. He posed with his arms up like he was surrendering.
Still considering punching him, you released a seething exhale of, “Jesus Christ, Eddie–!”
“I guess that answers if you’re a ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ response type of person.”
Refraining from greeting him, you went straight to asking the one question he deserved, “I’ve been here for all of three minutes, how is it you always know where to find me? And don’t,” –You emphasized– “Don’t tell me that you just do.”
“It’s my special talent,” he answered like the bastard he was.
You should’ve punched him.
Taking a tiny step away, Eddie averted his attention around the store for a few vain seconds, then gave up, returning to you. He chewed the inside of his cheek in spite of his abundant grin growing under the shy once-over you gave him. “Almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, more blatant in his observations. Raking his gaze over the length of your body. Deliberate, and tenacious. Taking his time to absorb you as you stood before him. Stopping at details you could only guess at. Devouring you openly. Fearlessly involving his fingers on your suede sleeve, dragging his fingertips down to the fluffy cuff and curling them inward, admiring the softness brushing over his knuckles. He wasn’t touching you, really. “A Penny Lane jacket and flared jeans? Were you invited to some retro costume party I don’t know about, or something?”
You couldn’t discern if his pink cheeks were because of the harsh wind outside, or something else. “I think some old lady died, and I got her wardrobe at the thrift store.” Riding the high of his flattery, you crossed your ankles and spun on the soles of your chunky boots, sweeping your hands down your clothing. “An entire outfit for less than twenty bucks.”
“It looks good on you.” He said it in that lower register. Where his voice cracked in and out. Quiet. More akin to the guys who hit on you.
You thanked him by doing the silly thing of putting your hands in your pockets. Swaying side to side. Not awkward at all, and definitely not trying to hide your smile.
Clearly not in here to grab groceries, he tipped his head towards his van outside, and asked, “I’m making a trip outside city limits for the good fireworks. Wanna come with?”
“I’m sorry.” You wanted to go. Just to sit next to him. To steal more time with him. Listen to music, hang out, fill in the blanks phone conversations couldn’t do justice. Hear his voice in person again. Say things that earned his rolodex of smiles, or laughs. Find ways to garner more compliments, more affection. Yet, your body ached in a severe way you couldn’t ignore. “I’ve been driving since about 3 this morning, and I’m kinda tired. Is it okay if I take a nap and meet you later?”
He screwed his eyes shut and faltered. Shook his head, and scrunched his face in a pained expression, speaking as if he was the one in the wrong for asking in the first place, “Of course! Yeah. Yeah, you’ve been driving all night. You deserve to relax. I didn’t mean to just–Yeah. Anyway, when were you leaving? You here for a few days?” he ended in a hopeful lilt.
It sucked letting him down. “Sorry, I’ve gotta leave pretty early tomorrow. I have two assignments due the first Friday after break, and it’s competition season, so lots of meets now; pretty much every other weekend starting the second week of January.”
He moved further away. Absently reading the labels on the bags of chips while he sorted through whatever disappointment he harbored. Tapping his knuckle on an end cap for an aisle, staying in his thoughts. Using the cold metal to rein in his feelings about your short time together.
“I’m sorry, Eddie..”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. He donned a happy persona. “That just means we’ll have to make the most of tonight, right?”
“Right.” You hated his fake turn in attitude. It’s not like you wanted this shitty reality, either. The ones in your head were much more preferable. Much more romantic. “We’ll make some good memories to last us until next time.”
Usually, Eddie was easy to read. He shared his emotions openly. However, when he looked at you like he did now–skimming his gaze from your eyebrows to your nose, scoping out the kindness of your glossy lips–you had to wonder what he was thinking, and if he was observing you with curiosity, or something sweeter. Please be sweeter.
“We will,” he promised. “We’ll go out with a bang, sweetheart.”
In a phenomenal execution of decorum, you did not, indeed, choke on your spit at his word choice.
The receipt with Eddie’s handwriting on the back waved between your fingers. You drove away from the corner unit of the Motel 6 with your windows rolled down, enjoying the sunshine. It almost didn’t feel like winter with how it warmed up while you laid in bed, replaying the scene of your best friend tilting his head to check out your tight fitting jeans when you bent over to pick your grocery basket off the floor.
Someone should’ve told him the door to the drink cooler was quite reflective.
Still, you had to question why he would bother giving you Gareth’s address when he could’ve simply told you it was the nicer subdivision on the north side of town you both ransacked during Halloween. From there, it was painfully obvious which house he was talking about.
Low-tuned sludgy riffs of doom metal called out to you from the main road. It was just Lloyd on bass and Jeff on guitar playing together while Eddie had the back doors of his van open, helping Gareth slide out sheets of plywood and stack them in the dead grass.
You pulled into the driveway and Eddie waved at you to park behind him.
“There she is,” he announced over the music. Interestingly, he dropped the pet names around his friends, but Gareth gave you two a sneaky glance, regardless. “Running me low on daylight after begging me to fix her car.”
Mouth agape, you filled your lungs to the fullest with an absolute dissertation’s amount of rebuttal, but your fortitude vanished. The bane of your existence eclipsed the sun.
Eddie folded his arms atop your open window, leaning onto your car door, kicking his hip out, regarding you down his broad nose.
Music faded out one strum at a time. The guys crowded the back of the garage, hooking up extension cords to Eddie’s power tools, and carried them to the saw horses they had set up, keeping themselves busy and at a distance.
Eddie’s hair fell over his shoulders. He provoked you in a softer voice, “What’s my payment for doing this kind gesture for you, hmm?” The tendons in his neck flexed as he hummed.
The smallest muscle in his cheek twitched the longer you schooled your face from reacting. Giving him nothing to work with, leaving him to guess if he was being annoying in the wrong way. Making him sweat under the heat of his innuendo.
If only he knew you’d be on your knees the split second he gave the command.
But, you remained strong in the face of temptations, and opened the door, shoving him back a few steps. “Have I ever told you I hate you?”
“Once or twice,” he said after feigning to think about it.
“And to answer you..” You kicked the door closed behind you, and drew yourself to your full height as if you were in front of suited up judges. Chin high, shoulders back. Taller in your boots. Meeting his eye easily. An intimidating strength to your intense demeanor. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Both a gift and a favor. His gift. His favor. His girl.
Eddie snorted. “How could I forget? Your presence is my greatest treasure.”
You tipped your cheek to your shoulder as you considered him. “I’m your greatest treasure?” His brashness deflated upon hearing you repeat it back at him. Your eyes narrowed wickedly while his widened. “I seem to remember you saying you’d take care of me if I came back.”
For a blissful beat, memories of that first phone call passed over his unfocused gaze. You, too, unlocked a few repressed images you swore you wouldn’t release when he was standing right in front of you; fully clothed, and very handsome.
Then, Eddie stuttered something, but there was no telling what, because Jeff started up the whirring circular saw with a smile of pure innocence. “Oh, did I interrupt you guys? My bad.”
You threw him a sardonic smile, and addressed your flustered mechanic. “Shall we?”
It seemed Eddie struggled to move past your tongue-in-cheek proposition. Either that, or something else had his mind scrambled. “Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered, tripping over his own feet, making finger guns at his van where he left his tool bag. “We should. Y’know, daylight.” You agreed and tossed him your keys.
Unbeknownst to either of you, Lloyd exchanged knowing looks with Jeff and Gareth, who both shook their heads and rolled their eyes.
Some favor this turned out to be.
“How long has it been making that sound?” Eddie asked from the driver’s seat, aghast.
You shrugged at the exposed engine cranking and churning out a sound not unlike a dead man’s cough. “I dunno. Maybe a month? No.. Two, or three?”
“Babe,” he groaned to himself, thumping his head on the headrest. He ran his hands over the leather steering wheel, wringing the vibrations under his palms, listening to the racket. Stewing over his knee-jerk reaction to shake you until you promised to maintain your only means of transportation which brought you to him today. What if it broke down and you were stranded in some seedy city where someone could take advantage of you?
Working his jaw, he turned off the car and unfolded himself from your cramped seat.
Inside the back of his van, he collected a few replacements for parts he could tell were worn, and put them near the edge. “Have you changed the air filters lately?” You blinked up at him. He added new ones to the pile and hopped down.
“Do I want to know when was the last time you got an oil change?”
You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the car, keen to the way he went into his zone, moving with skill over the motor in a predetermined method–an order to his operations. “You changed it for my mom the summer before I left, didn’t you?” He paused with the dipstick in his hand, brown eyes pinning you with glints of mortification, and disbelief. “Eddie, I’m kidding..” He wiped it on the dirty rag balled in his fist and his expression foretold the scolding you were about to get. “I got it changed like a year ago.” More angry staring. “Maybe it was two years ago,” you amended.
He added another task to his mental list. “You’re sending me to an early grave.”
Gareth began sawing pieces of 2x4s after Jeff measured them. The noise covered your private moment with Eddie.
Angling your head under the popped hood, you gut-punched him with a poignant truth he despised about himself. “Joke about an early grave all you want, I think you like doing this stuff for me because it makes you feel needed. Now that I’m away at college, you can’t just come over and fix a leak in my roof, or patch up a hole in the drywall, or pick me up from work when I’m too tired to drive.” Your gaze settled on his frown. “I appreciate you fixing my car, but I don’t want it to come across like that’s the only reason I’m here. You don’t need to do these things for me to come see you. I’m here because I like being with you. You’re my best friend, Eddie.”
You're my best friend, Eddie.
He invoked every fiber of self-restraint woven into his musculature to not look at you. “Do you have a hair tie?”
“Sure.” You took one from your wrist and handed it to him. Adding to your previous point, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel needed–”
“What, did you smoke a joint and read your psychology textbook before coming here? Be a doll and hold this for me.” He slipped out of his jacket, and tossed it at you. From his periphery he watched you clutch it to your chest, and in that moment–when your fingers curled around the collar, and your arms embraced his armor like a hug–he decided enough was enough. Tonight was the night.
Crossing your legs at the ankle, you sat back against the car door. A fine vantage point for pretending you were observing the guy's build.. whatever it was they were building, while your eyes fell to Eddie more often than not. Noticing him gather his hair at his nape and wrap the hair tie around it several times, not pulling through on the last loop, thus allowing it to fan out from a bun in springy waves. The rest of his short layers sat over his ears, catching the wind when he whipped around to seize a car part from his stash. Probably salvaged from the junkyard you played in as kids; a place you owed many of your scars to.
The shirt he wore was for a local band in Indy. Their name strained over his full chest, white letters stretching and bunching as he employed his skilled hands over your motor. A remarkably snug fit on him. Tight. Formed to the curves of his body. Capped sleeves stopping at the apex of his shoulders. Sharp cut of his tricep contouring an elegant shadow from one tattoo to the next, black ink flexing as he cranked a wrench.
Loose strands of hair clung to the sheen on his neck.
Black leather baked in your arms under the setting sun, intensifying the cheap cologne he doused to disguise the layers of weed and cigarette smoke, accompanied by the same deodorant that was on his Hellfire shirt.
The peppered stubble on his jaw. His shaved mustache. Smudges of grease in the hollow of his cheek as he chewed on another complaint in your direction. Mouth twisted to the side in concentration, until his tongue involved itself, parting his lips.
His tongue was a dangerous thing to be jealous of, yet here you were, fawning over its ability to be intimate with his mouth, his lips. Oh yes, his lips. How many hours you wasted of your adult life being stuck in boring lectures delivered by droning professors while you were thinking about his lips framing your name in the warmest of manners.
Eddie was stunning. Dirty, and stunning. Sweaty from being the gentleman he was, giving you a hand in one of the areas of your life you neglected, and he was in dire need of someone to clean him off. Someone whose fingers were as kind as yours to treat the scope of his understated beauty.
Someone to bathe him after a long day.
Get him nice and clean.
Then dirty again.
His hips were pressed to the red metal of your car. Tight jeans showing each thrust he made as he yanked on something out of your view. Handcuff belt buckle clinking every so often. Shirt wrinkled over the pudge on his stomach, and you couldn’t fathom a better place to land a few kisses on your way down to his–
“You like watching me work?” he asked plainly, bent over the headlight closest to you, eyes affixed on his project.
You jerked as if you snapped awake from a dream, and asked the guys crowding around the saw horses, “Hey, whatcha makin’? Can I help?” Apparently, Gareth and Jeff were laboring over a quarterpipe, and Lloyd was making a wide ramp. Why he specified wide, you didn’t know, but it was the perfect excuse to get the hell away from Eddie.
It was too real being next to him in person, and you needed a break.
Your swanky Penny Lane coat proved too insulating on the unusually balmy winter afternoon, so you unclasped the ornate button and draped it over your car door, revealing your cherry red blouse and silk scarf tied around your neck.
As you placed Eddie’s jacket alongside yours, something fell out of his pocket. You picked up the white and red package and turned it over. Wrigley’s Spearmint. It was missing a few foil-wrapped sticks of gum. Thinking nothing of it, you put it back, and joined Lloyd.
“What should I do?”
“Did you just time travel from a Hendrix show?” Jeff asked, earning your middle finger.
Lloyd instructed you where to hold the boards he was cutting, and revved the jigsaw. Wood shavings rained in its wake.
A cacophony of buzzing drowned out further conversation. Saws, drills, and a stream of swears filled the lull of the drifting creeping sunset.
Gareth looked around him for the nail gun, and realized he left it in the van. He told Jeff to keep his weight on the curved plywood. “I’ll get it.” And what a poor sight he stumbled upon. He could almost feel his heartstrings tug for his friend’s transparent pining. Almost.
Gareth’s saunter took on a swagger as he approached Eddie, and clapped him on the shoulder, shocking him from his awestruck daze. “Might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.”
Eddie was quick to close his mouth, and go to work with his back facing you. So what if your scarf was cute. And your blouse hugged you in all the right places. And the color complemented you. And the space between the buttons gapped. And your bra was white. And he could admire your jeans without your coat blocking the view. He was allowed to appreciate these things on a platonic level. He was a respectable young man, after all.
Besides, he was well within his right to stare.. from beneath your car after jacking it up, laying on his back, sliding under the engine on a creeper board with a wrench in his hand to do.. something. He forgot.
How was he supposed to concentrate when he’d been deprived of touch for so long he found his chest tensing, and his throat closing, at the memory of his lips grazing your ear at the grocery store, and how if he kept his face there, your lips would’ve connected with his when you turned?
Daylight burned to dusk.
The quarterpipe sat in the middle of the road opposite the ramp. No one else seemed to care if cars could pass by, so you didn’t either.
Eddie dug his heels into the driveway and wheeled himself back and forth on the roller board, face turned to scrutinize what you were doing instead of minding his own business; and you’d know, because this was hardly the first time your gazes met, and you both looked away as if it never happened.
Though, an unexpected object entered your field of view, anyway.
“A shopping cart?” you questioned. Jeff nodded enthusiastically on his way to the quarterpipe, hauling it to the top. Surely they weren’t planning on..
Gareth’s eyes shone with teenage madness. “You wanna get the firecrackers? We need to christen the cart.”
“Sure..” you drawled. Silly you for assuming the overturned hunk of dented metal in the neighbor’s ditch was discarded trash and not some prized possession.
You stepped over a pair of black jean-clad legs on your way to the back of Eddie’s van, and opened the doors wider, peering inside. It was much messier than last time you were in it. Blown out speakers, guitar cases, and the aforementioned scrounged up parts to extend your car’s life occupied most of the space, along with loose papers and textbooks for school. Near you, there were boxes upon boxes of fireworks. Way more than you thought necessary, but he did say he wanted to end 1985 with a bang.
Pulling one closer to you, you found the red packs of fireworks strung together like a bandolier, and grabbed several belts worth.
And, of course, when you turned around, you gasped and backed into the rear bumper.
Fluttering your eyes closed, you stated in an even tone, “If you scare me one more time.”
“Maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings.” Eddie wrung a dirty rag around his stained fingers, hip cocked out. He jerked his chin at your car. “Almost done. Not as good as new, but in a lot better condition than when you drove here.”
“Thank you. You seriously didn’t have to go and do all of this for me.”
The harsh light coming from Gareth’s garage divided Eddie’s face in halves. He held his hands up to inspect the grime under his fingernails, and answered, “I did it for me, so I can rest easy knowing you’re safe.” A shadow concealed his mouth, but you were certain he wasn’t smiling. The serious knot between his brows, and the bluntness in his visible eye pierced the uprising of nighttime splitting you into two sides of the same friendship. What you showed each other and what you kept hidden in the dark. “What if something happened and you got hurt?”
Your forearm was alive with the sensation of his warmth penetrating the chill on your skin. “I don’t live a safe life. I could fall and snap my neck at any moment on the uneven bars. A single missed catch and I’m gone.” As you spoke, you swayed closer, taunting the electricity to spark between you. His chest swelled with a breath. He smelled of spearmint. “If you want to keep me out of harm’s way, you’ll have to do better than fix my car.”
A single firework in the distance struck the saturated sky. Then more. More bangs, squeals, children shouting in awe around the subdivision.
Eddie didn’t say anything else, so you didn’t either.
Eddie didn’t make a move, so you didn’t either.
The delicate paper crinkled in your hands. “Do you have a lighter on you?”
Roused from his trance, he pointed at his jacket hanging over your door. “In my..” He trailed off, hand lowering as something registered to him. “Actually, I think I have some matches on my dash.”
It was a weird moment–the whole exchange, the awkward faltering–but you found the worn paper package on his dashboard, and joined the others, avoiding giving a side-long glance at Eddie, who involved himself in the finishing touches on your car.
The guys became more psyched up when you handed them the goodies. They tangled the fireworks around the handle of the shopping cart balanced precariously at the top of the quarterpipe, and Jeff propped his foot on one of the wheels, while Gareth climbed into the basket.
Jeff raised a single match and aligned it on the strike strip. “We hereby commence tonight’s festivities! Let the new year bring forth joy!” He looked at Gareth, then Lloyd. “Prosperity!” He spun to you, a certain glint of glee when his eyes landed on yours, then somewhere behind you. “And love,” he finished, lighting the match with flair.
It burned bright.
Flame to fuse, sparks flew.
Before even the first firecracker popped, the cart was wrangled, and Jeff was in motion. Shoving it over the edge, putting power behind his sprint as it sped down the slope. He let go. Gareth gripped the sides and whooped as he approached the wide ramp at max speed. It hit the incline, and together, they flew–at least, they gave the impression of flying right before they smacked the pavement. Bouncing, clanging, almost tipping nose-first, and recovering at the last second, skidding to a halt upright and uninjured.
The firecrackers burnt out their last bang, and fell to the road in dwindling flames.
Lloyd cruised alongside the chaos on his skateboard, and gave a hearty, “Hell yeah!” Gareth appeared a little shaken, but otherwise fine.
“Is the ramp okay?”
Relaxing from your wince, you peeped an eye open to confirm it did remain in one piece.
“Nice!” Jeff said, kicking the support beam you screwed into place. “It held up. The other one cracked on the first run.” Apparently that was a win in their books.
Gareth rode the back of the shopping cart to its wobbly stop in front of you. “Wanna take it for a spin?” He swung his arm over the reckless vehicle, and towards the safety hazards you helped facilitate.
The quarterpipe suddenly seemed towering. Much taller than when it was being constructed.
You placed your hands in your back pockets, and conjured an excuse while shifting from foot to foot. “Interestingly enough, as a NCAA athlete, I signed a contract stating I would not partake in irresponsible behavior. You know, the usual stuff to prevent an injury before Nationals. No ice skating, no shenanigans, no horsing around, and..” You tsked. “Definitely no tomfoolery.” You served him a cheeky grin, oblivious to the unamused stare Eddie was giving you after your little speech earlier.
“C’mon,” Gareth appealed in an equally charming twang. He stamped the end of his skateboard and caught it in his hand, spinning it around to where the grip tape faced you. “How about we start with this on solid ground? You don’t have to be scared. I’ll teach you.”
Pursing your lips, you stalled.
“Don’t let him peer pressure you,” Eddie warned from your driver’s seat, about to put the key in the ignition. “Think about your future. You can’t compete with a broken wrist.”
A searing flash of anger struck your nerves. Somehow, when it was Eddie worrying over you, it was so much more irritating than being called scared. Like hell you were scared, and like hell you were going to get hurt. It was riding a fucking skateboard, not jumping through a flaming hoop. And how hard could it be? Balancing was sort of your thing.
You raised your eyebrows at Gareth, and shrugged. “Sure, yeah, teach me.”
The annoyed sigh behind you encouraged you all the more.
Eddie could suck a fat one. You wanted to have fun.
Gareth led you to the street, and gave you a rundown on where to put your feet, talking you through the process of transferring your weight through your stance, and to trust him. Jeff was nearby giving feedback, as well, and Lloyd dropped in from the quarterpipe to skate circles around you. They reassured you that everyone shook like a newborn deer when stepping onto the board for the first time.
Although Gareth was grasping you around your forearms, he felt too far away when the board creaked. You didn’t expect it to lurch forwards and back from how you stood on it sideways. In a blink, you grappled for his shoulders, snatching fistfuls of his gray hoodie and the collar of his flannel vest into your vice grip, panicking.
He laughed. “You’re good, you’re good.” Moving to where he was cupping the undersides of your elbows, he waited for you to regain your balance, and said, “Don’t look at your feet, it’s throwing you off.” You lifted your gaze to his face. His eyes were kinder up close. “We’re just gonna.. Yeah, like that.” Like a waltz.
Guiding you at the snail’s pace you were comfortable at, you discovered every ridge of every bump of every pebble stuck in every crack in the asphalt beneath the wheels. He eased you in a straight line. The pins on his flannel reflected the burst of bottle rockets being set off in the cul-de-sac.
Your concentration was dedicated to staying standing, but you were aware of the sound of your engine dying down, and a set of watchful eyes on the back of your head.
“Put your weight on your back foot. It’ll lift the front of the board, so you can steer yourself in a circle.” You listened, and did as he said, bringing the nose up in quick pops. It wasn’t quite a circle, but the guys were stoked for your progress.
“I’m doing it!” you said, conquering your fear with another tap, tap, tap of a circle. You didn’t have the hang of balancing in your shoulders yet, rather than your hips, but it was something. Tap, tap, tap. Braver. Bigger movements. Faster. He spun you faster. More weight on your back foot. Another circle. More weight. And then, pain.
“I’ll get it,” Jeff mumbled, running off in some direction.
“Hey, we got the first fall out of the way. Not so bad, right?”
You got too daring, it seemed, judging by Gareth’s surprised face hovering above yours, on account of you bringing him down with you.
You let go of him with an apology, but he kept his hold on you to make sure your head didn’t hit the pavement. He was about to ask if you were okay, and you were about to say your right ass cheek stung, however, an aura of told-you-so forced him to exit your immediate vicinity.
“Nope, we’re done with that,” Eddie enunciated through his teeth. He stuck his hand out with the intent to help you up, and you mirrored him. Yet. He hesitated. Imperceivable to his friends who won his affection easily, but to you, it was the longest split second decision you had the agony of enduring. Your hand was there. Right there, and he rejected it. He aimed for your wrist instead, clasping his washed fingers around your polyester sleeve, and he was wearing his jacket now. Even if you wanted to touch him, you couldn’t. He ensured you couldn’t. No contact. Ever.
It was starting to get old.
You accepted his offer, and voiced your exasperation, “Eddie, I fell like, two feet. I’m fine.”
“Fine? What if you twisted your ankle?”
Determined to keep him tethered to you, you locked his wrist into your hand’s dominant embrace, and stepped to him, speaking right above a tame whisper, “But I didn’t.”
“And what if you landed on your knee?” he asked, matching your low tone. He drew you closer. Not enough to be witnessed, but you were consumed by the discreet pressure of his frustration on your pulse. Thrilled by it, even.
“Ease up, man. Your girl survived the Great Skateboard Crash of 1985 without so much as a scratch.”
“I’m not his girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” Eddie reiterated at the expense of Jeff’s shit eating grin, refusing to break your eye contact. “She’s the thorn in my side.” He initiated letting go of you all too soon. This time, you were the one to pursue him.
Taking him by the upper arms, you sank your nails into his leather barrier, and teased your bottom lip into an exaggerated pout. “I think Eddie forgot how to have fun. Remember, Munson, we used to build ramps out of tossed construction materials propped onto deflated tires we found around the trailer park? How many times did we crash our bikes and almost knock our teeth out? By those standards, this is totally OSHA compliant. Live a little.”
“Yeah, Eddie, live a little,” Gareth snarked.
“He’s only this protective over you,” Lloyd observed with a note of mock hurt. “He doesn’t care if we get hurt.”
“Bullshit,” Eddie dismissed, fighting a smile. “I care if you can’t make it to Hellfire.” Earning a round of laughter, stress ebbed from his posture. His grumpiness melted under your firm palms pleading for him to relax.
With a voice overflowing with reluctance, he asked, ”You want a ride in the cart?” You nodded. “Get in.”
Besides being the one at the helm of your fate, Eddie had a few conditions: arms and legs must remain inside the vehicle at all times, no ramp, wear your coat, no ramp, don’t aim the Roman candle at his handsome face, and–most importantly–no ramp. And there you were, sitting in the basket of the shopping cart atop the quarterpipe’s platform, shoulders against the handlebar that Eddie gripped with white knuckles, twisting your head to smile up at him.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” he said.
You smiled bigger.
Eddie took a match from Jeff, and lit the top of the tube in your hand. “Any last words?”
“Just one,” you said, waving your middle finger.
Ever gentle, he shook the cart, scaring you into facing forward as he approached the edge. The fire spouting from your firework grew in fierceness. Blindingly bright, and hot as it crept down the tube. Eddie asked if you were ready, and the first ball shot out like a flare gun, hitting a tree branch in its path, before landing on a roof and fizzling out.
You’re convinced he didn’t wait for you to answer.
The front wheels crested the top of the quarterpipe. Completely vertical, your insides performed a somersault as the hard, unforgiving street below stretched on for eons; and then, it was gone. Replaced by the ache of your body being slammed against metal. A disorienting jumble of the firework’s floom as it went off beside your head, and Eddie’s cackling laugh reverberating between your ears.
You sailed past where the ramp used to be. Eddie was the captain of your ship. Running and hopping onto the back of the shopping cart. His hands gripped your shoulders, not the handle. His thumbs were everything you needed, prodding deep into your muscles. Fingertips perched on your collar bone. Exploring further down as the blur of houses came to a reasonable scroll when the fun slowed to a crawl.
He wasn’t as close as he was in the grocery store, but you whipped your head around in hopes of catching a close look at his lips. It was worth it for his half-lidded eyes alone.
The last firework went off, illuminating his face in a lovely shade of red.
You said, “Let’s do it again.”
He said, “Absolutely not.”
The rest of the evening was much different from its rocky start.
Everyone was buzzing like bees. Playing music at random intervals, wrestling in the front yard, showing off their skate tricks. Demanding you do another backflip off the ramp, even though you did several already. Challenging you to arm wrestling matches on the hood of your car. Totally normal occurrences.
You clicked your tongue in a pitying gesture at Jeff. “Lost again.” He forked up another dollar by throwing it at you, muttering about how you must’ve cheated.
Later, minutes to midnight, it was almost as if they coordinated jamming together in the garage, only to make excuses to leave, right when you walked inside to tell them the rest of the fireworks were out of Eddie’s van.
“We’re gonna set those up!”
“Yeah, three heads are better than one.”
“Six hands are better than two!”
You had to wonder if they were always this ridiculous as they left you alone with Eddie in the most obvious way possible.
“Did you like that one?” he asked about the last song. His face was hidden behind the curtain of his hair, looking down at his guitar as he practiced a thrashy transition.
“Loved it.” And it was the whole truth spoken from the depths of your subconscious, where the sparks of old feelings resided, watching his mouth from afar, pressing his lips to the microphone as he spouted rather poetic lyrics about his brain being cracked open and spiders crawling out.
A smirk stretched his face. “Really?” He re-tuned the bottom strings of his guitar and turned a knob on his amp. “I figured you were more of this type.” Plucking a simple chord, he scrunched his nose, and oscillated the whammy bar while grooving on one of his pedals, acting like he was super into the psychedelic vibrato it created. “Something like that for, roughly, twenty-eight minutes while everyone is tripping on acid.”
“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned. He was annoying, but back to normal. Chewing on another stick of gum, covered in dirt from pinning Jeff in the front yard earlier. Blades of dead grass tangled in his curls. And you immersed yourself in your role as well, dwelling over the psychical pain of not being able to explore the intimacy of removing them. To become familiar with the feel of his scalp beneath your fingers. To understand the proximity of his face near yours without aversion. To know the taste of his minty gum on your tongue..
Something dawned on you.
Chewing gum since this afternoon.
His prickliness when you crossed him.
He hadn’t smoked today.
He was chewing gum to curb his compulsion for a cigarette. No drinking, or other drugs, either. He cared to have minty breath. He wanted to be sober. He cared to have minty breath, and he wanted to be sober for midnight.
Maybe you were spiraling into territory you shouldn’t, but the implication was too tangible to argue against.
A midnight kiss.
It was impossible to keep the softness out of your tone, and the delicate flutter from tainting your words, but you held fast, “Wanna watch the fireworks together?”
He read his watch. “Yeah, it’s almost time.”
The stairs leading to Gareth’s front door were cozy. It was impossible to share them with another person without touching. You were surprised Eddie agreed to sit with you, molded to one another from hip, to the length of your thighs, pressed together in foreign inseparability. Hands, arms, and elbows were curled in tight, but your shoulders bumped on occasion. The guys had their backs to you, giving you privacy, while they tied the final fuses of illegally purchased fireworks together, running low on matches.
Now, the inky black night was constantly alight with an assortment of colors in a range of patterns.
The neighborhood was alive with a countdown.
Your heart was in your throat. Pounding beats in your temples. It was coming.
Three matches were struck and shared. The guys danced around the pile in the street, shouting and giggling, and retreating to the end of the driveway, away from danger. But not far enough to witness Eddie running his sweaty palms over his jeans.
You couldn’t discern the numbers being counted. Your senses dulled. Tunnel vision for the man beside you. Everything else faded away.
“One!” someone shouted over the dozens of screeching fireworks being set off at once.
Eddie didn’t make a move.
But you did.
Leaning over the appropriate amount necessary to be heard, you spoke into his ear, smitten by the fortuitous tickle of his hair brushing over your nose, “Looks like it’s officially your year.”
You must’ve taken him off-guard.
Initially, he jumped. Or shivered, you didn’t know. But when he turned to look at you, he slowed at the introduction of your cheeks sliding along one another as he drew away. Separating once the corner of your lips were at risk of converging. His stubble was scratchy. Your skin was soft. Who knew.
His gaze bounced around your candid expression. Memorizing your raw innocence at the newness of the sensation, like you memorized his. “Yeah, I’ll finally graduate,” he agreed. His exhale landed on your lips. A caress. Your body longed for more. Then, with absolute confidence, he declared, “After that, I’m gonna follow you everywhere.”
You urged your attention away from his lips, to his shy, brown eyes seeking yours, resisting the impulse to look away.
He displayed his hope in the timid dimple emerging in his cheek. “I don’t think college is in my future, but I’m good at other things. Fixing cars, working with my hands, charming bar owners into giving me a gig. I..” His tongue paused on the tip of his teeth. Vulnerability whelmed him; mouth falling open and closed as he found an ounce of bravery. “Olympics.. The circus, whatever.. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. So we never have to be alone again. We’ll have each other. Be together..” His shaky whisper went faint as his nerves stole his voice. “You need a best friend to take care of you. To keep you safe. I’ll keep you safe.. Forever.”
He used the dreaded label–best friends–but this time.. It didn’t bother you.
He promised you forever.
Rendered speechless, you uttered the first thing that came to mind, expecting him to go along with the joke, as if he wasn’t serious. “The circus is a lot more dangerous than falling off a skateboard. I could get hurt.”
“Not if I’m there to catch you.”
Your chest caved under the impact of the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you. Fireworks burst in your stunned silence. Vision blurring with unadulterated happiness, managing a single, gravelly, “Okay,” amongst the content, and relieved, laugh you two shared, unsure of what this confession meant to either of you.
Jeff rapidly tapped the back of his hand on Lloyd’s chest. “I’m not wearing my glasses. Did they kiss?” he asked, excited.
Sighing, Lloyd let him down. “No.. But they do look happy.”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “How can they both be so stupid?”
Eddie knew he forfeited another chance at kissing you when he stopped leaning into your car, and wished you a safe drive, accepting the fact he wouldn’t see you again before you left. Your precious lips were right there, grinning at him with undue tenderness, eyes shining with an emotion he couldn’t place, but he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. Your futures were entwined now. He’d see you soon. Hopefully it wouldn’t take over three months for you to visit again, but he didn’t mind. It just meant more time for him to summon up the courage to almost, vaguely, in a roundabout way, with the caveat of being friends-only, sort of admit his feelings for you.
Still, he was proud of himself.
He wore his smile all the way home, putting a little pep in his step as he rushed up the stairs, and threw open the door to his trailer, scrambling for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he left on the kitchen counter.
Lord, he smoked through the first one in some kind of nicotine-induced euphoria.
He was in paradise. “Not if I’m there to catch you,” he mumbled to himself on his way to his room, swinging his arms, wholly intoxicated by his own charisma. “God, I’m corny.”
Tossing the carton of Camels on his nightstand, he went to put the lighter in his jacket pocket, and encountered what felt like wadded up papers stuffed inside. Pulling his hand out, he uncurled his fingers, and stared.
More hundred dollar bills than he’d ever had the pleasure of holding at once. A few twenties, too. Blood rushed to his cheeks. This was supposed to be a favor, and you snuck behind his back to pay him as if he were a real mechanic.. But that wasn’t the only thing that had his heart racing.
He flipped the accompanying Polaroid over.
The beach photo you promised. New Jersey 1985 written in the blank space at the bottom. More importantly, you in a bikini. Posed coyly with one arm crossed beneath your tits to create a gorgeous amount of cleavage, while staring into the camera with enough of a smirk to know what you were doing, while still being able to deny it.
After a beat, Eddie tipped his head and surrendered. He began unfastening his belt. “Great way to end the night, sweetheart.”
Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift @emokid-ellie @mantorokk-writes @drdvlss @mirrorsstuff @bebe0701 @eddiethesexy @edsforehead @b-irock @brittney69 @princesseddie @hes-a-rainbow @churchmuffins
eddie munson but he’s a phil dunphy!dad
as in: “if i’m not my kids best friend, then what’s the point?” and “i don’t wanna be bad cop. i have to counteract your bad cop so they know they’re still loved.”
nik. eddie's child would so radiate his craziness.
— two oc's named joan from joan jett & the blackhearts, and james from metallica.
it looks like an interrogation scene here — you and eddie standing in front of your two, guilt-ridden but proud children, the lights above the table the only light in the kitchen. you have your arms at your sides and eddie's crossed, though his expression was way far from disappointment.
"i've got a question for you, joan," you place your fingers down on the table, leaning forward. "on 10:16pm, you said you were going to bed, correct?"
eleven-year-old joan stares up at you, hands at her sides, hair disheveled that matches her fathers. she looks like a splitting image of him, so it's kind of hard to pretend to be mad at her.
"yes," she says.
"i went to visit your room at around 10:47, and you were asleep. snoring, even." behind you, eddie nods, comically slow, eyes narrowed; you can't see his expression, but seeing james stifle a laugh beside his sister, you know damn well eddie's being unserious right now.
"that is correct,"
"so how come, when your father and i went down to take a glass of water—"
both eddie and james cough. you kick your husband in the shin.
"—and not only do i see your little brother, but i see you. and you claim to have, what?"
joan's eyes are nothing but sassy, an eyebrow raised. "i said i saw a rat beneath the table."
"but how did you know that there was a rat if you were asleep?"
"i followed it down here,"
"so you saw it at your bedroom?" she nods. "how did you see the rat if you were asleep?"
"it made a noise."
she nods. "a noise. behind the cabinet. i heard squeaking and i followed it down,"
you pretend to be suspicious, even though you know she wasn't really asleep. but joan's got the mind of her father — it's easy to make up a story and convince people it was real. though she uses that opportunity for good. but now...
turning your head, you look at eddie with raised eyebrows as if to say it was his turn. he sighs, pulling a chair out to sit in front of his kids. he places his elbows on the table, the sleeves of his shirt wrinkled.
"joan..." eddie leans close, voice low but loud enough to be heard. "did you take the cookie?"
she gasps, dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "why must you accuse me of this?! your own daugher?! dad, you know i never take cookies from the jar past 8pm."
eddie sighs gravely. "of course i know you wouldn't sweetheart," he leans over to pinch her cheek. you fight back the urge to roll your eyes as he moves on the james. "alright little buddy. tell me how you got the cookies."
james, although a mama's boy, loves it when eddie does this. he leans close, to the point where he thinks you wouldn't hear his whisper but oh, you so do.
"joan picked me up to reach the jar."
you and joan both gasp. eddie raises his hand to high five his son. your daughter groans and starts berating james, and you turn to eddie. "honey, you were supposed to be the bad cop!"
he pouts. "i don’t wanna be bad cop. i have to counteract your bad cop so they know they’re still loved."
sighing, you rub your forehead as the siblings argue, joan complaining on why james would snitch on her. eddie gives you begging eyes, almost sympathetic.
"you know i ought to be my child's best friend, babe. what's the point of children if i'm not their best friend?!"
you roll your eyes. "okay. okay okay, hey! you two," they both stop, hands halfway raised into the small slapping contest. "no more cookies past seven, got it? if i catch you guys do this again, no cookies for a week."
the kids look adorably forlorn. but eddie being eddie, leans close again and bickers their ears in. "next time, just ask daddy or try not to get caught, okay?"
"eddie, i'm taking away your cookie priveleges."
“Hi, I have a request! Eddie and reader are good friends (pining for each other). And Eddie starts making fun of Reader because, I dunno, they got new nerdy glasses, or a bad haircut? Or something like that. And at one point reader is trying to help him study but he keeps teasing them so they just pick their stuff and leave, telling him to f*** off. And now Eddie has to apologize and make things right, maybe some grand gesture at the cafeteria, I dunno hahaha”
this is very cute! I took a few liberties; I hope it’s okay x
contains: fem!reader, eddie being mean (he’s a piece of shit and if a boy is mean to you it does not mean he loves you it means he’s an asshole), insecure!reader, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, both eddie and reader are 18+, fluff
word count: 2k
“Fuck you,” you spit.
You reach over the table in front of you and slam your textbook shut. You catch the way Eddie jumps where he’s sat across from you. His eyes are wide, startled, but he says nothing. You can feel the white-hot sting of tears in your eyes. You don’t blink.
You cram everything into your bag and zip it up while you get up and beeline for the front door. You’re not sure if his silence hurts more than if he were pleading with you to just hear him out, but you also suppose it doesn’t matter. There is a rage inside you, you can’t deny that, but it’s swamped by something far worse.
After years of thinking that maybe, just maybe, he might mean something more when he tells you that you look pretty, or when he buys you flowers, or when he lets you sit in on Hellfire sessions, you feel like a fool.
The tears start when you slam the wretched door behind you. On his top step, blinded a little by the low evening sun, you cry.
Yesterday, you got a haircut. You’ve spent however many years doing it yourself, hacking away with the kitchen scissors until it looked somewhat even, and it had worked. It suited your slightly bedraggled look, but you’re 18 and growing up and you wanted, for once in your life, to feel pretty, so you paid someone to do it for you.
For some reason, Eddie hadn’t taken well to the change. The insults started as soon as he saw you at your locker that morning, where he told you that you resemble a show dog and playfully – albeit painfully – slammed your locker door into your head. Your friendship with Eddie is usually like this, so his behaviour wasn’t completely ridiculous; sure, maybe he could have refrained from assaulting you with a metal door, but his mockery was normal.
This time, though, it really hurt.
You’ve been friends with Eddie since you moved to Hawkins in middle school, and when he started growing his hair out and wearing those stupid rings and especially when his voice finally dropped, you were done for. You’ve been pining after him for so long that it feels like breathing now, a familiar yet uncomfortable reality that you can’t escape.
Your friendship hasn’t changed much since then. The teasing, which is not usually so one-sided, is the foundation of your affection for him, and although the two of you have grown up a lot, you enjoy the childlike comfort of the time you spend with him. Admitting your crush would also mean admitting you wanted a future, an adult future, with him, an idea which scared you shitless. It would also, of course, mean setting yourself up for near definite rejection. You weren’t sure which scared you more: admitting you wanted to be an adult with Eddie, or trying to be an adult without Eddie.
Him being so mean to you all day was unfair and it made you angry, but more than anything, it made you feel embarrassed. You’d been so excited to show him, because it made you feel good, and he’d thrown it in your face ruthlessly. His insults were weak and childish – he’d called you a dog, compared your hair to a bird’s nest, tried to get you to admit what you paid for it – but when he had insinuated that you’d got it cut to impress Jason fucking Carver, you snapped.
Now, the next morning, the sun is hidden and a dull cover of grey has descended over both Hawkins and your mood. Your walk to school is slow and you are very, very grumpy.
You trudge down the gravel track to the door, open your locker, close your locker, go to class. You want to get through the day on autopilot, try not to think, make it to the weekend. Eddie doesn’t pounce on you before class as usual, and he doesn’t turn up to Math before lunch. You’re thankful for the respite, because you actually have no idea what you’d do if you saw him. Eddie’s no stranger to truancy so you allow yourself the luxury of not giving a fuck about where he is.
When lunch comes, your intention is to hide behind school, at the bench where you read sometimes, but in your stupor you forgot to pack a sandwich before leaving the house, so you’re forced to brave the cafeteria. Head down, hood up, in and out.
With your eyes trained on the patchy lino beneath your feet, you don’t notice the quiet that settles in the heaving room. In the lunch queue, you finally look up, and see that everyone’s looking at something behind you. You turn, pulling down your hood when you see him.
Eddie is stood on his table across the room. This isn’t an unusual thing for him to do, but this time, instead of yelling some sharp insult at the basketball team, he’s still. His eyes are on you and when you make eye contact, you see they’re sad. His whole face is sad, actually, and you realise he’s still in the same clothes as yesterday. In fact, he looks dreadful.
You realise what he’s about to do too late to stop him. Before you can move, he’s shouting across to you and there’s a red wave painting your skin from your neck to your ears. You want the earth beneath you to open up and swallow you whole, but it doesn’t, and you’re left to endure whatever he’s about to do.
“My fellow Hawkins High dwellers,” he starts. It’s as horrid as you could have anticipated. “I did something really, really stupid. And, as the school freak and therefore the resident jester-“ He puts emphasis on this, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I feel I must publicly humiliate myself to make amends.”
He walks up and down the table as he says this, trying to get everyone’s attention.
“There is someone at this school who is the most beautiful, brilliant person I’ve ever met. And I was a dick to her. I want to say I don’t know what came over me, but friends, I was being a coward.” When he says this, his back is to you. He turns dramatically on his heels so he’s facing you and locks his eyes with yours. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I was an asshole on another level. So here I am, setting myself up for the ultimate ridicule, begging for your forgiveness.”
The hundreds of eyes around the room that are now on you burn holes into your flesh. Everybody seems to be waiting with bated breath for you to say something.
Everything happens very quickly. First, you panic. You avert your eyes from Eddie to the door and, assessing the speed with which you could make it outside, you break for the exit. You don’t stop once, your walk made easier by all the people parting like the Red Sea, and with your eyes back on the floor, you soon make it outside.
What the fuck was he thinking? He’s completely insane, I’m sure of it. How could he do that to me in front of all those people? Asshole. He’s an asshole.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door behind you. You spin around to see Eddie looking forlorn and cautious. He really does look bad, like he hasn’t slept.
You say nothing.
“Can we talk?”
You answer by sitting down on your usual side of the bench. You’re out the back of the school, and you’re sure no one will find you here.
He joins you, sitting opposite. He’s retreating in on himself as though you’re on fire and he’s trying not to burn his knees.
There’s a beat of silence before you say: “why the fuck did you do that?”
He’s looking down at where his hands are sat in his lap.
“Can I clarify, are you talking about yesterday, or in there?”
“I, uh… wasn’t sure how to make it up to you.”
“And you thought doing it in front of the entire school would work?!”
“I figured you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”
“You didn’t even try!”
He winces when you raise your voice. You want to feel bad, but you’re so angry that you don’t care at all.
“You were a fucking asshole yesterday, Eds. I dunno what happened, but… you literally wouldn’t let it go. It fucking hurt.”
“Then why the fuck didn’t you stop?”
He sighs a long, dry sigh, closes his eyes, and brings his hands up to rub them down his face. He looks up at you slowly, like he’s testing the waters. His hands rest on the table in front of him and he fiddles with one of his rings.
“Your hair looks really, really good.”
You scoff. “Nice try.”
“No, really. It does.”
You don’t say anything.
“I’ve not worked out how to tell you this, and I wish I wasn’t doing it like this,” he says quietly, gesturing between the two of you. “But I really like you, y/n.”
This is far from what you expected, and although it should make you happy, it just makes you angrier.
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
“I know, I know, I just… I wanted to tell you how good you looked, but I was terrified you’d see straight through it, and I know you don’t feel like that about me so I dunno, I didn’t want to admit it by telling you that your hair is really hot.”
“You think my hair is hot?”
“I mean, you’ve always been hot. But yeah, it is.”
Your brain takes a moment to process this.
In lieu of a verbal response, you inch your hands across the table to meet his. Your fingers graze his and trace his rings.
“I like you too, y’know.”
“Huh?” You look at each other, and as angry as you are at him, you can’t deny his honey-sweet eyes.
“Liked you since you started high school.”
He cracks a slight smile, so you do too.
“We’re idiots, aren’t we?” he asks.
“You’re an idiot. ‘M not.”
“I deserve that.”
You go quiet, and he enjoys the feeling of your fingers on his.
After a moment, you say, “I’m still mad at you.”
“It was really shitty, what you did. Yesterday and in there.”
You don’t tell him it’s okay, because it’s not.
“I’ll make it up to you. Don’t care how long it takes.”
“Hm, you owe me big time, Munson. Gonna be repaying me for life, I think.” You both laugh. You wonder whether you should say what else is on your mind, but you opt for honesty. “You should tell people how you feel instead of being mean, y’know. They tell girls that boys who’re mean to us secretly like us, but it feels like shit.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he says again.
After a while, you both get up. When you meet at the end of the bench, he doesn’t come close, so you initiate by holding his hand. With the barrier broken, he leans in and kisses you lightly on the cheek, but you dodge him and kiss him on the lips. It’s quick, but it startles him and when he freezes, you go in for another.
“There’s no way I’m goin’ back in there,” you tell him. “You’re gonna have to get me food somewhere else.”
“Wanna ditch and go to Benny’s?”
“And I’m getting pancakes and a burger, and a milkshake. And Coke. And you can’t have any of my fries.”
He laughs, and says, “I’ll just buy you the whole diner, hm?”
Let's Dance! | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Chaperoning the middle school dance isn't what most would consider a weekend well spent and Eddie is inclined to agree. That is, until he formally meets you.
Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4.3k
Tags: fluff, like the fluffiest fluff that has ever existed, vice president!reader, swearing (I genuinely don't even know if that's actually true, just assume that with all of my writing comes swearing), cringe? ok, some of what the reader does could be considered cringe but I DON'T CARE, IF IT'S CRINGE THEN I LOVE CRINGE, written out dance scenes (writing a lot of movement is hard, guys), that should be it, there's definitely no hard warnings for this, it is just pure, unadulterated fluff
Author’s Note: This idea came to me while I was listening to David Bowie's "Let's Dance" and maladaptive daydreaming hard. And it's been rattling around in my head for months and I'm glad that it's finally finished and it's way better than I could have ever hoped! @queenimmadolla did such an amazing job beta reading (she always does) and this is as much her work as it is mine and I would really love it if you could go send her some love because Tumblr's being mean to her right now and she could really use it. This is probably one of my favorite fics I've written and I really hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I do. I think that's all I have to say, as always, happy reading!
With your hands clasped in front of you, your hips sway to the beat of whatever mainstream, upbeat pop song the DJ was playing—the pristine white skirt of your dress shifting like the branches of a willow tree, caressed by gentle gusts of wind—you can’t help but admire your hard work; streamers and tinsel flow down from the ceiling, framing the slow-to-twirl disco ball that you stubbornly bartered for at a flea market in Indianapolis, and the glittery sign you painstakingly crafted by hand even though it took you all night and you’ve been finding flecks of glitter in your tissues every time you’ve sneezed for the past two days. Totally worth it, you think with a pleased smile.
You still remember your Snow Ball (though, arguably, it wasn’t all that long ago); December 15, 1980. You’d been stuffed into a poofy, absolutely ridiculous gown that you adored with all of your heart, dancing to the Bee Gees with Pat Rafferty, a foot-and-a-half of space between your bodies as you stepped, stiffly, from side to side. The scene had looked just like this, right down to the plastic flowers you arranged in the center of each table and, even though it’s entirely trivial, you remember that night being one of the best you’ve ever had. It was the sole reason you begged Principal Higgins to let you join the planning committee amongst the middle school staff and PTA. And now, here it is: all blue and white and shiny, having come to fruition.
Your smile softens as you lose yourself in the memory of that night but it isn’t long before you’re jolted out of the past when you catch a large, clumsy movement from the corner of your eye, followed by the sound of someone tripping and nearly falling. Your head whips around to find a man—definitely not a boy considering he stands at least a whole foot above the rest of the attendees—with his ankle caught around one of the tinsel cords. As you watch him struggle, you realize that you recognize him. It’s kind of impossible not to; the messy nest of hair, the randomly spaced tattoos along his exposed forearms. The only thing you don’t recognize is his attire, it’s still definitely… him. His lean torso is sporting a wrinkled dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the slouchy pinstripe pants he’s wearing are assuredly a size or two too big on him. It’s a far cry from his usual harsh leather and denim.
He’s hopping a bit, trying to untangle himself and you figure you better step in before he falls and crashes into the concessions.
“Here! Just—Let me,” you insist, chuckling as you step closer and crouch down to unwind the ribbon from around his shoes, finding a mangled knot. Jeez, how did he manage to do all this just by tripping?
You manage to undo the binding and he steps free with a little bounce, stumbling a couple of steps. He clears his throat as you stand and pat your hands over your skirt, “Sorry about that, can barely see anything a foot ahead of me in here.”
“It’s okay,” you assure, giggling at the red hue that paints his cheeks, noticeable even in the dim light. “Can I help you with something?”
“Uh, yeah, actually,” he shifts his weight a bit, looking over his shoulder and licking his lips before continuing, “I’m supposed to be chaperoning, or something like that.”
“Oh!” You didn’t know any other high schoolers were chaperoning tonight—because why would they?—but it’s not like you’re going to refuse the help. “Well, you’re in the right place.”
Before he can properly respond, you shove your open palm towards the center of you both and introduce yourself with a confident flow of words. He’s a little taken aback by how quick and concise you are with your actions.
“Eddie,” he says as he accepts your smaller hand into his own, intrigued with how shockingly cold your fingers are.
Your handshake is a firm one and he takes a step back once you release his hand and clasp yours together, suddenly aware of just how in your space he’d been. You watch with an amused smile as he purses his lips, nodding his head and surveying the small array of finger foods.
“Soooo,” he drawls, lips still comically pursed, “what exactly do we do for the next three hours?”
“Well,” you sigh, “we basically just watch the concessions and stuff; make sure the punch isn't getting spiked or whatever happens in movies. Though, I highly doubt any one of these kids managed to get their hands on a bottle of booze.”
Eddie seems to get the gist of the job, looking out over the sea of children.
“Oh, we also have to make sure no kids are getting too handsy behind the bleachers—Jenny! Ryan!” you shout, having caught sight of the two eighth graders kissing a little too aggressively for their weight class. “I see you two!”
You jut your finger out and as the clap of your voice reaches them they scramble away from each other and hold their arms at their sides like they’ve been caught with their grimy mitts in the cookie jar.
“Got it,” he says, eyeing the eighth graders with a sideways glance.
You huff and look back towards Eddie, eyes wide and features soft as you ask, “How’d you get roped into this?”
He dips his head and stares at you from below his brow.
“No offense!” you’re quick to defend. “It just… doesn’t seem like your kinda scene. I’ve seen you around school, you know. You wear those band tees and the vest and, well, your hair. . .” You chuckle and mimic ruffling your fingers through your own mane.
“What d'you mean?” he starts, voice laced with sarcasm, “Chaperoning a middle school dance is my idea of a perfect Saturday!”
You cock your head and send him an unimpressed stare, blinking your eyes with a heavy slowness.
“Okay, fine, you caught me. I don’t actually like watching a bunch of preteens awkwardly shuffle to crappy pop music on the weekend. I made this stupid deal with Higgins so that I could start a club.” His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares down, face shrouded with his wild hair as he watches his toes nudge at the legs of the table.
“What kind of club?” you ask, angling your head to try and catch his eye.
Your question raises some suspicion in his mind, almost hesitant at your interest and he shakes his head before answering.
“A D&D club. You know D&D?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. You shake your head slowly with an apologetic look over your face as you bite your lip and it’s clear that was the answer he’d been expecting from you but he isn’t upset, just a little disappointed.
“Well, it’s like a tabletop roleplay ga—actually, it doesn’t matter, all you need to know is that I came to Principal Higgins with it and he shot it down, as soon as he saw me walk in.”
That makes your brows furrow and your lower lip jut out as an unpleasant emotion settles in your stomach. That’s definitely something you’d have to bring up with your cohort of student council members later.
“He said, and I quote, the only way he’d let my ‘band of hooligans congregate’ is if I showed that I was ‘committed to the community,’ or something like that, which means… chaperoning the middle school dance.” He finishes and you nod your head in understanding, feeling slightly sympathetic towards his cause; it's a bit unfair that he has to go through all this trouble just to start a club when you were able to start up the Photography Club with no questions asked.
“And you?” He questions, causing your head to perk up and your eyes to widen, “What are you in for?”
You smile and respond with a cheeky tilt of your head, “I’m actually here of my own free will, if you can believe it.”
“Ohhhh,” he draws out, faux-interest candying his voice before it drops down to a playful dullness, “you’re right, I can’t believe it.”
“Hey!” A smile is consuming your face even as you realize you have to defend yourself against his teasing. “Some people actually like to give back to the community. Plus, it’s a part of my Vice Presidential duties; to show I care about stupid things like the middle school Snow Ball.”
You draw your stare down towards your toes and share a shy smile with yourself as you toy with your fingers. Eddie smiles down at you for a moment, his hands stationed along his hips before his gaze drifts to the scene ahead of him, taking in the neat decorations and the hordes of prepubescent children that jabber amongst themselves and it’s clear the awkward shuffling of feet on the dance floor is here to stay. Despite that part of it being unbearably hard to watch, the rest is quite impressive.
“You sure do know how to plan a party, I’ll give you that much. Looks way better than my Snow Ball.”
That causes your head to snap up and an entirely dumbfounded look to paint your face.
“You went to the Snow Ball?” you ask in disbelief.
You know better than to judge a book by its cover but it seems so out of place for him. You’ve heard all of the stories and the rumors; that he’s a shut-in who dedicates the weekends to his cult-leading responsibilities. You’ve never thought to believe them, even for a second. It just felt so thoughtless and cruel and a genuine waste of your time to be gossiping behind peoples’ backs just because you didn't understand them. It was beyond lame. But you’d see him at parties, all broody and intimidating in the corner with a rusty metal lunch box he’d pop open and not-so-discreetly demonstrate his stock. He never danced, never talked to anyone unless it was to discuss prices, and he never smiled, not unless he was flipping through his wad for the night and counting his bills.
“Mmhm,” he smiles, almost proud for dispelling any preconceived notions, “got all dolled up in a monkey suit and everything. Even managed to work up the courage to ask Andrews to dance; she did not seem too impressed, I can tell you that.”
“Paula Andrews?” Again, the disbelief laces your tone but this time for good reason. Paula Andrews was vile, not for her looks or anything like that—she was actually ridiculously gorgeous—but for her nasty attitude. Anyone with a cowardly bone in their body would turn tail and run at the sight of her for fear of being ridiculed for even breathing in her direction. Even now, she was catty and prissy and mean.
“Yup,” he sighs like he’s already predicted your criticism and agrees with all of it.
“Ugh!” You visibly recoil, squinching your nose and wrinkling your lip. “Why would you ever want to dance with Paula Andrews? She’s… evil,” you shudder. “She once put gum in my hair because I wouldn’t let her cheat off of my science quiz.”
“I dunno,” he chuckles before simmering down, his voice becoming uncharacteristically hushed as he twists his rings up and down his finger. “Because she was pretty… and popular.”
You can't really fault him for that; everyone either wanted Paula Andrews or wanted to be Paula Andrews.
“What’d that witch do?” you ask tentatively like you’re afraid of the answer.
“Oh, nothing original,” he reminisces, “called me a freak and cackled that witch laugh of hers before stalking off with her flock of flying monkeys.”
You snort and move to cover your mouth with your hand, giggling behind it, “She does kind of laugh like a hag, doesn’t she?”
He laughs with you until you both calm to huffs and gentle smiles.
“Well if it’s any consolation,” you begin, “I would have danced with you.”
He looks you in the eye for a moment before dropping his gaze and sucking his lips in slightly towards his teeth, nodding with a pleasant grin on his lips.
The conversation merges into a comfortable silence as the both of you assume your chaperoning chores, Eddie picking at the charcuterie platter, exclusively the buttery crackers and tiny cubes of American cheese, tossing the morsels into his mouth while you survey the room, both with the intention of monitoring any misbehavior and gauging the room’s energy. Your findings are rather disappointing; the dance floor is empty! Not a ghost town, by any means, a few couples took to dancing but the walls are much more saturated with middle schoolers than the actual space meant for dancing.
You watch as the boys chat amongst themselves, throwing a few fleeting glances over their shoulders towards where the girls are cliqued up every once in a while. It's obvious they want something to happen but lack the confidence to be the ones to start it. Why not give them that extra little push?
“Do you want to dance?” you hurriedly blurt out, twisting to face Eddie beside you. His eyes are glassy and saucer-ish as he stares at you, mouth stuffed full of crackers and cheese as he addresses you. He twists his head over his shoulder only to find the spot behind him empty, pointing to himself and humming a muddled question.
“Duh!” you giggle. “Who else would I be talking to?”
He swallows his mouthful with some difficulty and begins stammering for a response.
“I don’t, um, really think that’s a good idea,” he laughs with a nervous tinge.
“Come on! It’ll be fun!”
You’re already winding your fingers around his wrist and leading him to the dance floor, weaving past and around the few brave couples that were dispersed about the court.
He’s babbling the whole way, noncommittally digging his heels into the ground and leaning away to slow you and when you’ve found your spot on the floor, turning to face him, he leans forward and whispers to you, “I can’t dance.”
His words are panicked as his eyes flit around you, hyper-aware of everyone’s stare on the two of you. He’s less so worried about his reputation as much as he is yours; you’re a sweet girl, people like you, like you enough to have voted for you and he’s… him. And in this town, being him or anywhere near him is social suicide.
But his warning does hardly anything to stop you. You can't dance either but you keep your head held high and your back straight as you feign confidence to encourage him.
“You’re in a band, right?” It was an odd question for the situation but he knits his brows and nods anyway. “You like music, you go to concerts. What do you do in those situations?”
He thinks about it for a moment, turning his head to survey his memory but stops himself when he reaches a conclusion, not thinking it a good idea but you seem entirely oblivious as you hearten him with an eye-squinting smile.
He shakes his head, taking in a large breath before huffing it out. The calm, collected act is disrupted by his whiplash energy shift as he starts violently moshing, headbanging, flicking his hair all over the place while he jumps and kicks around. The sudden burst makes you jump in your spot and blink your eyes at him. You watch for a second or two, lips ticking up at the corners at his very… passionate expression and as much as you’d like to keep watching him bounce around, you figure you should start with something a little more… pedestrian-safe.
You cautiously reach your hand out, a little afraid to approach him in fear of getting taken out by a stray limb or a particularly aggressive clump of hair but you manage to touch your fingers over his shoulder without injury, halting him. He slows his movements to a controlled bouncing of the toes, breath panting, hair wild, and shirt wrinkled—well—more wrinkled than it had been.
“Maybe not like that,” you cringe with a bunched nose and lopsided twist of your lips. “Try this instead.”
You trail your hand that was over his shoulder down his arm to take his hand into yours, scooping the other one from his side to guide the both of them to your waist, coaxing them to mold there. He looks a little afraid, eyes owlish as his tongue sprints out over his chapped lips too many times in a single moment.
“And I'll put my hands over here,” you narrate, placing your forearms over his shoulders as you link your fingers together behind his neck. You begin shuffling your feet, your white mary janes clicking against the lacquered gymnasium hardwood as you foster some movement.
“See, it’s not that hard.” Almost like you’ve jinxed it, as the words exit your mouth he steps right over your toes, and your face twists with a wince you do your best to suppress.
“Sorry, “ he winces with you, his eyebrows bunching with an apologetic look.
“It’s okay!” You’re quick to reassure him, a laugh and a smile embossing your words. “Just—look at me; when you look down you only end up tripping yourself up.” You release your fingers and bring one of your hands from around his neck to cradle his jaw in your grasp and angle his face upwards so that he’s gazing at you with those large, glazed cow eyes. You smile when you capture his rich chocolatey stare. “There, much better.”
The two of you sway glacially, Eddie relaxing under your touch after meeting your eyes, the shy lilt of his lips making a warmth bloom in your chest. You stay like this for a while, remaining committed to your designated square where the two of you can rock from side to side without disruption before you attempt to perform something a little more difficult. You slide your hand down over his shoulder and along the cotton of his shirt until it's grasped in his own, twirling yourself and gracelessly switching your feet before stumbling back into his chest with an uninhibited chortle, head thrown back as you laugh at yourself. He’s laughing too, his eyes trained on your ruched nose and crooked smile as you press your forehead against his chest.
As the song builds in energy you separate your hands from his chest and step away, starting to clumsily dance. It’s a gentler sort of moshing, he thinks as he watches you hop in place and shake your head, completely uncoordinated but entirely adorable. His posture slouches to the side as he watches you move, wholly mesmerized.
“Come on!” you laugh, breaking him out of his trance, taking his hands and moving them to simulate dancing.
He smiles before he's splitting from you and doing his own goofy thing, illustrating a botched and lumberly take on The Twist as he shakes his mane of wild hair this way and that.
The two of you are one of four couples on the dance floor and the army of children that trace the edge of it and surround you throw their estranged glances your way and could you really blame them for it? You had two high school seniors—one the predicted Valedictorian of her graduating class and the other the school pothead and resident freak—tearing up the dance floor of the eighth grade Snow Ball. But as the chatter of your embarrassing antics grows louder, a few brave souls make their way to the dance floor to join you and Eddie, hopping and shaking and twirling like unhinged maniacs, but they were giggling and tittering and having fun and that’s all that really mattered.
As you dance with Will Byers, holding his small hands in yours as you twist and twirl him, Eddie smiles to himself and stands with his hands on his hips, admiring the precious sight. As he watches, a particularly rowdy couple crashes into him and sends him flying towards you.
Just as he collides with you and knocks you a bit off balance, the previous song fades into a brief silence, a slower, calmer, more romantic song following; "How Deep is Your Love" by the Bee Gees.
“I’m sorry!” he’s quick to remedy, stabilizing you by holding your waist.
You chuckle, clearly high off of the endorphins that come with exercise, “It’s okay—”
“Are you hurt? Did I step on your foot again?” He’s rambling now and chasing each worried sentence with another as he’s examining you for any hidden injuries that could come with being bumped and stumbling three steps.
“Eddie!” You raise your voice to grab his attention, that same laugh twining your words at his ridiculous worry as you place your hand over his bicep. “I’m okay! Promise. Scouts Honor,” you say sucking your lower lip in and holding up your first three fingers.
“Okay, good,” he sighs, relaxing into a smile, “Good.”
Will looks between the both of you and smiles with a glint of understanding in his eyes.
“Hey,” he touches your arm to grab your attention, “I’m gonna get some punch and sit down, you really wore me out with that last song.”
You smile down at him and ruffle his hair, “Okay, Little Byers, you let me know if you're up for another one, you’re probably the best dance partner I’ve had all night.”
Will flashes a toothy grin and exits, weaving his way past warm bodies towards the abandoned snack table.
“I cannot believe you just said that.” Eddie reclaims your focus.
Your brows furrow as an anxiety of misspeaking clouds your features, “What?”
“And to think I thought, for even a second, that we shared something special, dancing like idiots,” he says with a smirk, the sarcasm now dripping from his words.
“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, landing a punch to his shoulder.
“You wanna give me another shot at redemption?” he offers with a smirk, reaching his open palm out to beckon you towards him.
You smile, an air of bashfulness consuming your actions as you stare down at the floor before taking his hand and assuming the same position as before: your hands twined together, behind his head, fingers slithering under his hair as you play with the scraggly strands at the nape of his neck, winding and unwinding them around your digits.
“So,” you start, “how d’you feel about chaperoning now?”
“Mmm,” he hums, looking out at an unseen point in the distance to ponder on it, “still on the fence.”
You gape at him, “We just danced like crazy! You were laughing like a madman!”
“Well,” he laughs, “is chaperoning always like this?”
“I don't know—fun, exciting, metal?”
You giggle as you stare down at your feet, lifting your head to send him a suddenly heavy look in your eyes, the rest of your expression at once sober.
“When you have the right partner.”
There’s a silence as he takes a moment to ruminate on your words before concluding, “Alright, tell you what: I’ll chaperone every dance if you're there.”
He looks down at you with fond eyes and you glow under his gaze, dipping your head to hide away from his abruptly intimidating stare and lay your temple against his chest. You can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart against his rib cage and sigh at the comforting noise.
“That’s a deal, Munson.”
The air is empty and silent, a calm, welcome quiet that permeates after all of the kids have left and gone home, likely recounting the events of the night with their friends or family. You and Eddie, on the other hand, are working to tidy the place; you're climbing onto chairs and tables to swipe paper streamers and tinsel ribbons from where they’re taped to the ceiling and pillars, and Eddie sweeps up fallen snacks and any glitter that has trailed along the floor. You hum David Bowie to yourself as you crumple the paper and the plastic into your hands and toss it into the bin.
You do the best you can with only two pairs of hands and figure what you’ve accomplished is substantial for the night as you walk towards the bleachers, plopping yourself onto one of the benches and leaning back against the one behind you to rest your head in your folded arms. Eddie trudges towards where you sit, after tossing the broom into the corner, and slumps into the space next to you, propping his elbows along the same bench you rest your head on.
He slants his head to look down at your weary body and lets a tender smile pull at his lips and dimple his cheeks.
“You have a fun time, kid?” he appeals, luring you out of your burrow.
You nod into your arms and hum, turning your head so your face is revealed to him as you peel your eyes open and offer him a sleepy smile. You reach a groggy hand out and place it over his.
“Thank you for dancing with me.” It comes out hushed and a little raspy.
He takes a better hold of your hand, flipping his and wrapping his fingers around yours to rub his thumb over your knuckles and the soft joints of your fingers, the skin radiating a healthy warmth.
“It was my pleasure,” he smiles, before teasing, “Gave me a hell of a workout.”
You giggle at his joke before righting yourself and stretching your arms out in front of you like a cat, releasing his hand as you do it and scrunching your face as the tension releases from your body. When you finish, you stand, taking his hand back in your hold and encouraging him up with a ginger tug.
“C’mon, time to clock out.”
He complies and stands with some effort, creaky joints groaning as he places his free hand on his knee and lifts himself. As you walk to the double doors and click off the remaining lights you don't feel the need to let go of his hand, even if it makes locking up the gymnasium a little bit harder.
requested by @claireluvss
Eddie felt emotion build up in his chest, an odd feeling that he rarely experienced, and when he did, it was always because of you. He was seated on the couch with a beer in hand, elbows on his knees as he watched you and Wayne dance to an old Elvis record. His uncle was teaching the both of you how to dance for prom, but Eddie hadn’t been completely game, as he wasn’t the biggest fan of dancing.
You were smiling and laughing, twirling in Wayne’s arms and spinning around him in circles, offering giggled apologies when you’d step on his feet. Your face was red from deep laughter, eyes crinkled up and shoulders shaking. You meant so much to him. Not just to Eddie, but Wayne, too, and that made him feel so much more deeply for you.
The two Munson men barely ever had any women in their lives. But you were an exception. To Eddie, you were the love of his life, and to Wayne, you were like the daughter he never had. He saw Eddie’s mother in you sometimes.
If he hadn’t been surrounded by his loved ones, his eyes might of teared up from joy, but he pushed back the swell in his throat and watched you with awe and admiration. Eddie never thought he’d ever fall in love. He never thought anyone would fall in love with him. He assumed his whole life he’d be a lone wolf, but you made him feel different. You made him feel good about himself. He hoped you felt the same way.
And the moment those thoughts came into his mind, moments of doubt, it was like you knew, because you glanced over at him with the biggest, shiny smile that made the squish of your cheeks cherry red, standing on Wayne’s boots as he twirled the both of you around. Your hair was falling over your eyes and tickling your nose. His doubt always went away when you looked at him like that.
You were without a doubt, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He’d never be able to tell you enough.
By the time the song ended, Wayne went out for another smoke, and you’d turned to him with a gleaming glow and mad granny hands at him. “Dance with me.”
He smiled and stood, placing down his beer as he accepted your hands. You chuckled when you stood on his feet, making your noses press together. A soft ballad began to play and he breathed in your scent, foreheads pressed together and soft breath against cupid’s bows. Your arms were around his neck and his palms laid on your waist, fingers circling the material of your little yellow sundress. He gave you a small peck on the lips, holding them there with a sweet pressure that made you hum. Your bodies swayed softly, and he parted his lips gently with another sweet kiss.
Your eyes fluttered open and close, and he turned his check so it could rest on yours, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”
Your forehead was leaning against his shoulder, and your hands squeezed tighter against his body, heart racing against his own. You placed a kiss against the fabric of his shirt, muttering a muffled I love you.
You danced your way through the rest of the album.
How You Get the Girl
Summary: Eddie's had a crush on Reader forever but doesn't know where to start when talking to her. Luckily for him, she has the perfect advice and he's in just the right place to overhear it!
Word Count: 3.8K ish
Warnings: none really. Spoilers for Star Wars original trilogy and my maybe controversial Star Wars opinions.
A/N: This isn't based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name, but I've recently listened to 1989 for the first time and it's my entire personality now! Listened to it a lot while writing and it's too good of a title not to steal for this! I had lots of fun with this idea, I hope you enjoy reading!
Please don't copy my work
'I just don't get it!'
It was a quiet afternoon in the middle of Autumn. A few solitary customers meandered between the shelves, but Family Video was almost deserted. You stood behind the counter, arms folded, while you endeavoured to solve the enigma of why you best friend couldn’t get a girl.
‘Is your hair not cool enough or something?’
Steve scoffed. ‘Look, it’s not about the hair!’ He mirrored your stance.
Despite your friendship, you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. In high school, girls would have given anything just to be seen with him. Maybe he’d lost his touch? Maybe high school just didn’t matter after all? Either way, King Steve had lost his crown.
‘What’s it about then?’ you relented, seeing his face drop in defeat, ‘How’d you get the girl?’
He stuttered, struggling to condense his elaborate, and frankly shoddy, wooing methods into coherent sentences while you watched him flounder.
In truth, he was different now. Steve wasn’t looking for some meaningless hook-up anymore. He wanted something deeper. Something built to last,
And that was a whole different ballgame.
Unseen between the shelves, Eddie Munson smirked. He wasn’t pretending to browse the selection of tapes he told himself, he just couldn’t help but listen to the two of you go back and forth.
Your voice was music to his ears. He could hardly decipher the words so it wasn’t technically eavesdropping! The melody alone was enough to overpower him.
Eddie had been crushing on you hard for almost three years now. You’d been friends of friends for a while, hanging out in the same group with Steve, Nancy, Robin, and usually Dustin Henderson.
He’d almost asked you out a thousand times but something always make him chicken out. It was ridiculous really; flirting was something that had always come easy to him. Poetry and showmanship were his weapons of choice but something short-circuited in his brain whenever he tried to talk to you. The words stuck in his throat.
You scared him, okay? You were classy and confident, so sure of yourself. You were never ever afraid to speak your mind and you didn’t care what anyone thought of you!
Kind of like him, he thought. Except he did care. Eddie really cared what you thought of him!
‘You’ve got to be joking!’ your disbelieving tone cut through the clouds of his thoughts.
‘What?’ Steve retorted.
You shook your head hopelessly, ‘Act like you don’t care?’ you mimicked, adding sarcastic air quotes, ‘Wait for the… ‘electricity’? No wonder you aren’t getting any girls!’
He threw his hands up in surrender, ‘Well you’re a girl!’
‘Yes, well spotted Harrington!’
‘Go on then, tell me what to do!’ he contested, leaning back on the counter, ‘What makes you see a future with someone? What makes you want to go out with someone, and stay with them?’
Eddie’s ears pricked up. He couldn’t help it.
You agonised, ‘You’ve got to care Steve! You’ve gotta make her feel wanted! Remember the little things about her, compliment her! Not just quietly but when other people can hear!’
Eddie rummaged in his bag for a pen and paper. He couldn’t believe his luck! After years of not knowing where to start to show you how much you meant to him, here you were, unknowingly giving him a step-by-step guide! Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, he started scrawling madly across the page as you spoke.
‘Ask her about her interests and listen to her! I mean really listen!’
‘Get her flowers! Show that you’re thinking about her!’
Eddie never stopped thinking about you.
‘Invite her to spend time together doing things you both enjoy!’
Piece of cake! (Ignoring all the times he’s failed to do just that!)
‘Be honest about your feelings for her!’
Now hold up. His pen froze, hovering in mid-air. If talking was an Olympic sport, Eddie would win gold but he’s never been great at talking about how he felt. Not that he didn’t have feelings, he supposed he just had too many.
‘That’s so much work!’ Steve whined and you laughed. The sound refocussed Eddie’s despondent mind.
‘True love takes work, Harrington! You’re not some fairytale princess!’
The conversation went on in the background but he didn’t hear the rest. You were right. If he wanted this, wanted you, he was going to have to work for it! No more backing down! No more shying away! No more running!
‘You okay over there, Munson?’
Eddie snapped out of his trance, nearly knocking the shelves over. ‘Yeah!’ he choked, resolve shattering. He stuffed his paper and pen away and grabbed the nearest movie, stumbling over to the desk and your smiling face. Incapable of looking you in the eye, he shoved the tape onto the counter. ‘Please don’t be anything weird!’ he prayed to no one in particular as you turned it over.
Your customer service smile split into a real one, ‘Oh no way! I love Star Wars!’
‘Say something Eddie!’ he thought furiously, shifting his feet and wishing the ground would swallow him whole, ‘Yeah… I thought it was about time I got round to watching them!’ he managed.
‘You’ve never seen them?’ your face morphed into shock then mock offence, ‘But they’re the best!’
His mouth moved but nothing came out. ‘Ask about things she’s passionate about!’ a small voice whispered in his mind.
‘Which… one’s your favourite?’
‘Oh, I don’t know!’ you rested your elbows on the counter, head in hands and thinking hard. Eddie stuck his hands in his pockets so you wouldn’t see them shaking. You really were breath taking. The way you frowned slightly, the way your eyes narrowed and lips pressed together like this was the most important decision in the world. It made him giddy.
‘Everyone says Empire’s the best,’ you said slowly, ‘But I think Jedi’s my favourite! You just can’t beat the ending!’
‘Is that the one with the teddy bears?’ Steve chimed from the back room, giving Eddie time to pick his gaping jaw off the floor.
You rolled your eyes good-naturedly turning over your shoulder, ‘Yes, well done Steve! For the last time, they’re called Ewoks!’
Eddie couldn’t help laughing. You shook your head with a smile, ‘You’ll have to tell me what you think of them!’
‘Yeah!’ he choked, ‘Absolutely!’ His head was reeling from what must be the longest conversation he’d ever had with you.
‘Well, I’ll see you round, Munson!’
‘Yeah… yeah!’ he grabbed the tape from between you, turned heel and hurried out of the store grinning like an idiot. Step one complete! Gone, were the days of wistfully hoping you’d take notice of him! Now he had a battle plan and this film was his way in!
If he’d turned around, he’d have seen the small smile spread its way over your mouth. Steve poked his head out of the back room and wiggled his eyebrows. You moved to shove him and he ducked out of the way, a grin of his own stretching his face.
Sharp Autumn wind made you hug your cardigan closer. Leaves crunched and puddles splashed underfoot as you trekked the familiar streets to work, your favourite song blaring in your headphone
‘Hey! Hey, wait up!’
Fumbling with your headphones, you twisted round. Barrelling toward you was Eddie, his tongue poking out as he tried to balance two takeaway cups in his hands while running at breakneck speed.
You couldn’t help but smile.
He skidded to a halt in front of you panting wildly. ‘Here!’ he thrust one of them out at you and you took it. The cup warmed your cold fingers and your name was scribbled on the lid in black sharpie.
‘What’s this?’ you asked as he slurped his own.
‘Hot Chocolate,’ he answered, ‘You like that, right?’
‘Yeah…’ a sigh of laughter passed your lips, ‘I meant what for?’
Eddie just shrugged, ‘You mind if I walk with you?’
‘I’m on the way to work.’
‘I know, I’m headed there too!’
You started walking and he fell into step beside you. After a long sip of hot chocolate that warmed you right down to your toes you spoke. ‘Did you watch the movie?’ He nodded excitedly. ‘And?’
Eddie pretended to think for a second, ‘Uh and it’s amazing!’ He meant it too! The movie had blown him away, had him on the edge of his seat the whole time. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to see it!
But even if that wasn’t true, even if it had been the most boring movie he’d ever experienced, he’d watch it over and over just to see the light that shone in your eyes when you talked about it.
‘Sorry, I’m probably being really annoying!’ You caught yourself in the middle of a tangent.
‘No!’ He couldn’t reply fast enough, ‘I love hearing you talk!’
‘Really?’ the words made your heart skip a beat. Privately, you’d never been sure about Eddie. Sure, you’d hung out before in groups but whenever you’d tried to talk to him, he always seemed to shrug you off. From his short, usually monosyllabic answers, you’d just assumed he found you irritating. Disappointing, because you might have harboured a bit of a crush but there was no point pursuing someone who clearly wasn’t interested.
Yet all of that seemed to have changed. Now, he was trailing after you to work, listening to you babble on about some sci-fi movie and hanging onto your every word. It was nice. Really nice!
From there you talked about everything. He asked about your music taste and hesitantly shared his own. You found out he played guitar in a band and made him promise to tell you when his next gig was so you could come and see.
The video store approached. He stepped in front, opening the door then letting you go first.
‘You after Empire then?’ you asked, taking off your hat and scarf and hanging them in the backroom.
Eddie nodded, ‘This is the one that everyone says is the best, right?’
‘Yeah,’ ducking under the counter, you searched for the tape, ‘It is really awesome! There’s lots of surprises!’ He noted the knowing look in your eye. At last, you found it, holding it out with a smile, ‘Enjoy!’
Your hands touched a bit more than maybe they needed to as he took the video.
‘I’ll be back!’ he promised, tucking it in his bag and scooping up your empty cup for the bin.
First thing the next morning, Eddie crashed through the doors yelling at the top of his lungs. ‘What the hell?’
You jumped out of your skin and so did the customer you were serving. Your face split into a smile. You hurried the transaction but Eddie was still hollering, gesturing wildly with both hands. ‘You never told me Darth Vader is Luke’s fa-! ‘
‘Eddie!’ you cut him off, barely able to control your laughter, ‘Spoilers!’
The rest of the store suddenly solidified. Everyone was staring, some shaking their heads in disapproval.
‘Sorry!’ he winced. Tiptoeing up to the desk he leant in, comically close, ‘You didn’t tell me he was Luke’s father!’ he repeated in a stage-whisper.
‘I know!’ you giggled, matching his theatrical tone, ‘What did you think?’
‘It was amazing! I honestly don’t know how anything’s gonna top that!’
You grinned, ‘Well you’ll have to wait and see! You want the next one right away? I put it aside for you!’
‘Course I did!’ Without waiting for an answer, you slipped away into the back to find it. Eddie took a shaky breath, missing the closeness. Anxiety twisted in his stomach.
‘Come on, Munson!’ he chided himself. ‘It’s now or never!’ He fiddled with his rings, wrists resting on the counter.
It didn’t take you long to come back, holding the video case aloft in ceremonial fashion. ‘Here ya go! The thrilling conclusion!’ setting it down. He managed a grim smile. ‘You gotta come by tomorrow and tell me what you thought!’
A lump stuck in his throat and he grimaced, ‘Oh well… I uh… I was wondering-,’
‘Yeah!’ he chuckled awkwardly. This was going great! ‘I was just wondering if… if you maybe wanted to watch it… with me?’
That was it! The words were out in the open now, he had no way to recall them!
The invitation took you by surprise, eyes widened and a small ‘Oh.’ Was all you could manage before he rambled on. Words, previously impossible, now wouldn’t stop.
‘I mean just because you said it’s your favourite! I was thinking we could get pizza or something! I dunno. We don’t have to, I know we haven’t really talked much before but I just thought-,’
‘I’d love to!’
‘-it would be really cool to maybe-!’ he stopped, it took a second to hear that you’d spoken and longer still to process your response. ‘Wait what?’
You smiled and repeated yourself.
He was gobsmacked. Was this real? He never thought he’d get this far!
‘Right! Yeah, cool!’ the words stuck again, ‘I’ll uh… I’ll see you at six, right? …At mine.’
Somehow, he made it out of the store, clutching the video in both hands. He waited ‘til he was out of sight behind his van before punching the air. Finally! After years of failed attempts, he did it! The drive home was a haze; it was a miracle he made it back in one piece.
At some point he must have ordered pizza because some kid in a yellow shirt showed up at his door at a few minutes to six. All afternoon he’d been floating on air. Now he was freaking out.
What if he messed something up? What if he said something weird? What if you changed your mind and didn’t show?
What if? What if? What if?
You arrived a few minutes before he’d said to, giving yourself time to figure out where to park and glance at yourself in the rear-view mirror.
Steve and Robin had teased you relentlessly for dressing up. Claims you categorically denied, of course!
Sure, you’d made an effort. A light dusting of makeup made it look less like you’d worked the late shift for the third night in a row the day before and you just liked the way your favourite sweater made your eye colour a bit more vibrant. That didn’t mean anything! Besides, it wasn’t like he meant anything by it! It was just a movie! Pizza and a movie!
So why were you nervous?
He opened the door almost immediately after you knocked, ushering you inside from the fast-falling dusk. His trailer was cosy and inviting; from all reports, you guessed he must have tidied up significantly. The lamplight enveloped you in a warm glow and the intoxicating smell of pizza made your tummy rumble.
‘You still like pepperoni, right?’ he asked, opening the box, releasing a plume of steam into the air.
‘Yeah,’ you breathed in the scent, ‘How did you know that?’
He looked at the floor suddenly embarrassed, ‘I uh… remember that one time in eighth grade when we had that pizza party? I remembered you were sad because they didn’t have pepperoni.’ He looked up, assessing your response before backtracking hastily, ‘I’m sorry that’s so weird!’
‘No, no, it’s amazing!’ shaking your head and picking out a particularly cheesy slice, ‘The only thing I remember from middle school are those crazy outfits you and your band wore for the talent show!’
‘You remember that?’ He grinned at the memory, ‘Super metal, right?’
After loading a plate each with pizza slices, he slipped the movie into the player and settled next to you on the couch. For a while you didn’t speak much, eating and absorbed by the movie. That was until Obi-Wan’s ghost revealed that-
‘Leia is Luke’s sister?’ Eddie shot up, knocking his empty plate to the floor.
You giggled at his outburst, ‘I know!’
‘How many more reveals are there going to be? Hey! And they-,’ he wrinkled his nose in disgust. You could see a specific scene from the last movie replaying in his mind.
‘I know! It’s so gross!’
‘I don’t believe this!’ he sat back down, ‘I’m never going to recover! Never!’
You elbowed him, ‘Watch the damn move, Munson!’
Was it your imagination, or did his breathing hitch. You’d scooched much closer than before, practically laying your head on his shoulder. Was he uncomfortable? Were you too forward? Your worries were put to rest when he draped his arm around you, slow and tentative, as if giving you a chance to pull away.
The rest of the movie passed by in comfortable quiet, interspersed with Eddie asking excited questions and you berating him to be patient! You couldn’t stop yourself giving the odd bit of trivia or behind the scenes insight and to your delight, he actually seemed to care!
Eventually the credits rolled. He didn’t move right away so you wriggled to look up at him. He was starstruck, open mouthed, and more than a little misty eyed.
‘So?’ you asked cautiously.
His eyes switched from the screen to yours, forming a breathless smile. ‘That was amazing!’ You laughed. ‘I mean it!’ he said, ‘It was so epic! That final duel on the Death Star was just… and Anakin’s death? Wow! And the ghosts at the end? You were totally right about the ending being the coolest thing ever!’
You laughed with him. The mile wide grin on his face lit up his eyes like a thousand stars, sending butterflies whirling in your stomach. He felt like a different person. Secretly, you’d worried he wouldn’t enjoy it, that he’d think it was silly or it just wouldn’t be his thing but he gave you no doubt! His enthusiasm was the most genuine of anybody’s you’d ever seen and you realised then, you’d give anything to see it again and again.
Eddie started to clear away the plates and pizza box. While you helped, a question kept gnawing at you. A question you were almost afraid of the answer to.
‘Why are you doing this?’ you asked, stopping before you stooped put your shoes back on. He froze like you’d caught him doing something wrong.
‘Doing what?’ his voice failed to imitate nonchalance.
‘Being… nice to me all of a sudden.’ It was the only way you could describe it. He really seemed to care, to actually want to hear your opinions, share your joy.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he continued clearing up but he hid his face behind his hair.
‘You’re a terrible liar!’ you moved closer and saw his shoulders tense, ‘Tell the truth!’
He didn’t speak. All the light from before extinguished, something closed him off again. Maybe you’d crossed a line? Said something wrong?
‘You know, you aren’t as mean and scary as I thought you were,’ you tried gently, anxious to get the other Eddie back. He smiled a bit, though still not looking at you.
‘Neither are you!’
‘You thought I was mean and scary?’
‘Not mean!’ he clarified, ‘But scary as hell!’
You couldn’t help but laugh and a small chuckle escaped his chest. ‘Why?’
‘Because!’ he gestured at nothing in particular, ‘Because you’re you and you’re so sure of yourself and you don’t care what anyone thinks! And…’ he stopped.
‘And?’ you asked when he didn’t continue. He didn’t want to tell you, not yet. He was only just getting started! There were still so many things he had left to do before…
‘Be honest with her about your feelings!’ wheedled his brain. It was a struggle but he forced himself to meet your eye. Looking like a man about to risk it all, he wet his lips and took a steady breath.
‘And…’ he continued, voice low, ‘I’ve had a massive crush on you since… forever!’
The words hung in the silence between you. They echoed in your head and in your heart.
Before you could respond, he tore on, ‘And I never knew how to talk to you before because I was scared that you’d… I don’t know… laugh at me or something? Because I know, I’m a colossal disaster and I don’t know how to say romantic things or anything when I’m around you!’ He stopped to draw breath.
‘What changed?’ you cut in, still trying to process his confession. All this time you’d worried he didn’t like you and now he told you he felt all that?
Eddie hung his head. He raised a hand to his neck, rubbing furiously as a flush rose in his cheeks. ‘Um… You remember like a month ago? You were talking to Harrington about why he couldn’t make a relationship work?’
‘Yeah?’ the interaction seemed so small, so inconsequential.
‘Well… I might have been listening and I wrote down all your advice and planned to use it on you!’
His nose scrunched; shoulders tensed. At last, everything was laid out on the line. All he could do was wait for your response.
Worst case scenarios, none of them remotely in character, fired through his mind. You being super weirded out and never wanting to talk to him again. Laughing in his face and telling everyone you knew that the big scary metalhead was a hopeless romantic sap in disguise.
To his surprise, you reached up and cupped his face in your hand, rose on your tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.
He looked down at you, eyes wide. You held his gaze. He hardly dared hope.
‘I guess I give really good dating advice!’ you murmured.
He breathed out slowly, and a bright shining smile graced your lips. ‘Yeah?’
You nodded. ‘You should tell Steve it worked! Maybe then he’ll listen to me!’ Eddie let out a laugh, relief washing over him.
Your eyes found each other’s again. For a moment you just stood there, admiring his features up close. The faint brush of freckles over his nose, his slow, steady breath that moved his chest up and down, the way his eyes widened when he looked at you. Like they were seeing the whole world at once. You noticed them flicker to your lips and your heart fluttered.
‘Do you want to kiss me?’ your voice was quiet but earnest.
He blushed at the question, then, almost imperceptibly nodded. You smiled, moving ever closer, until you were practically nose to nose.
‘Go on then!’
Thank you so much for reading! Feedback and reblogs are so incredibly appreciated! It makes me all warm and fuzzy when I hear that you enjoyed a story I wrote! Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything else I write!
hi ❤ may I request a fic where the reader goes 😳 everytime they see eddie's lips and one day he can't help but ask why they keep looking at him (in a teasing way)?
Hello love! Sorry that it took a while to get this done, and even now, it's rather short, because I'm down with a cold (so I hope this makes sense and isn't messed up due to my drugged up brain). It got a little suggestive, more than I thought it would, but I hope this is kinda what you were picturing 💚
Requests are open | prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Word count: 1334
Warning/Tags: slightly suggestive, fluff, eddie being a tease (let me know if I missed anything)
Lips Like Honey
It was bad, really bad, but you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering, couldn’t even say when this had started, but at one point, your eyes had landed on Eddie’s lips when you’d been sitting at the table in the cafeteria and you’d wondered what they would feel like on your own lips, on your skin. You’d quickly shaken your head to get that idea out of your head, cheeks burning with embarrassment, because this was nothing you should think about someone who was your friend - and Eddie was your friend, wasn’t he? A couple of weeks ago, he’d asked you to sit with them, since you’d realised that you liked the same stuff, that you were in great company with the boys of Hellfire, and it had proven to be the best decision. Ever since then, you’d been looking forward to your lunch breaks, and to the Club meetings that you were allowed to join to get to know the game.
“You can join us for the next campaign, you know? Make your own character.” Eddie pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes landing on his lips again, which they tended to do even more when he was speaking. Your own lips opened, but closed again, while you slowly looked up at him like he’d just caught you doing something illegal.
“We’ll definitely help you!” Dustin said before Eddie could say what had been on the tip of his tongue. Probably for the better, because he didn’t really want to embarrass you in front of the others, but he’d definitely noticed you staring at his lips again and again, and it made him curious. Especially because you tried to hide it all the time, because you always got so flustered after you’d stared at his lips probably a moment too long. He’d also noticed you squirming in your seat, but ever since he’d noticed, he hadn’t caught you alone.
“Yeah… sounds good,” you managed to say, giving Dustin a faint smile, before you concentrated on your sandwich. That way you didn’t have to look up at Eddie again, whose eyes were boring into you.
Even in class, you began daydreaming when he was there. He didn’t even say anything in class, but he focused on scribbling something down in his notebook - probably lyrics that just came to his mind - or started to draw something, but you couldn’t see what. Because your eyes were glued to his lips again, to the way the tip of his tongue was sticking out. Something he always did when he was concentrating on something.
You cursed yourself for your vivid imagination, because the pictures in your head immediately made you squirm in your seat. You were lucky that your teacher was so focused on delivering his speech, because you wouldn’t have realised if he’d talked to you in that moment. Because in your head, you were somewhere private, Eddie’s lips moving all over your body. Normally, these thoughts were reserved for your dreams that always left you frustrated, because Eddie was nowhere near when you woke up.
“Y/N? Hey, can you hear me?” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of your face, which made you jump a little, hand on your chest to calm your racing heart. You quickly glanced around only to see that everyone except for you two had already filed out of the room because the lesson was over. “You alright? You kinda zoned out there for a bit.” He couldn’t hide the smirk on his lips, because he’d caught you staring again. And you were doing it now as well, only for a moment, before you caught yourself and scrambled up to put your books in your bag and get going.
“Yeah, fine. Just…” You wet your suddenly dry lips with your tongue trying to come up with an explanation. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“You sure that’s it?” Eddie leaned back against his table, arms crossed over his chest, while he kept looking at you like he just caught you doing… what you’d been doing.
“Yeah… yep. See you later!” Nearly tripping over your own feet, you made it out of the room and down the hall, because you just needed to get away. Away from him, away from school to hopefully get a grip.
It probably helped that you didn’t see Eddie until the next Hellfire Club meeting for the end of the current campaign. You’d promised that you’d be there, and you really thought you’d be alright. The meetings were always so lively, so energetic that you had to follow, that your attention was drawn away from Eddie, even though you loved listening to him, and watching him talk. But it was better for you to get that distraction. What you hadn’t expected, though, was that Eddie was in the room alone by the time you arrived. You were usually the last one to get there, and so you’d thought it would be the same right now as well. But it was just the two of you.
“Where is everyone?” you asked, putting your bag down next to your usual spot next to Eddie, because you had the perfect overview from there, and it would have been weird if you’d chosen a different spot today.
“They’re running a bit late as it seems.”
“All of them?”
“Don’t ask me, I’m the one who is already here,” he said with a smirk, because he’d told everyone that they would start half an hour later except for you. Because he’d realised that you’d been keeping your distance, even avoiding him, after you hadn’t spent your lunch breaks with them. He had a pretty good idea what this was about, but he had to find out, had to make sure, and therefore, he wanted to be alone with you.
“So, I haven’t seen you in the last couple of days. Everything alright? You sleep well?” Eddie inched closer to you, leaning over to put his face even closer to yours. “Have any nice dreams?”
His voice dropped lower, and when you cast your eyes downward to his lips, you could see that lopsided smile that made you swallow. You were glad that you were seated right now, because that voice mixed with that look did things to you, that you didn’t want to say out loud.
“So tell me… why do you always look at my lips?”
His words made you hold your breath. You’d been way too obvious for your own good, and you’d had a feeling that he’d caught up with that, but that he asked you about it now, made you wish that the floor beneath you would open up and swallow you whole. At least until he kept talking.
“Been thinking about what they could do?” He leaned even closer now, his lips brushing against your cheek, while his hand landed on you thigh for leverage. “How they would feel on your skin?” He’d seen right through you, and you couldn’t suppress a whimper when his lips made contact with the shell of your ear. “Because I’d gladly show you. Been thinking about this as well.”
“Eddie…” you whispered, but it came out more like a moan. That sound made Eddie’s grip on your thigh tighten, and he pulled back a little.“Just say the word and we can make these thoughts reality.” Now, his eyes were lingering on your lips, waiting for you to say something, but before you could do that, the door opened, making you both pull back when the others filed into the room. Your heart was still racing in your chest, and Eddie’s look told you that he was still waiting for an answer - and he’d get that answer once you finished that campaign, knowing that it would be torture for Eddie. But after weeks of dreaming about him, of torturing yourself, it was only fair that he got to suffer a little before you yelled yes from the top of your lungs.
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Let me know (send me a message) if you want to be on one of my tag-lists. I have one for the Promises Series, Eddie x Reader, Steddie and Steve x Reader 💚
hii!! could you write something where eddie and reader are literally so comfortable with each other that they don’t feel a single ounce of shame around each other like ever?? just lots of love and belonging no matter what<33
shaved my legs today and very much wanted eddie to do it for me so that's what you get!! tw // he accidentally nicks her while shaving
"Careful!" You chide Eddie' feeling the rough scrape of blade against skin, "You're gonna cut me."
"No I won't," Eddie insists, prying at your fingers where they're wrapped around the back of your thigh, pressing it to your chest, "Move, sweetheart."
You let him nudge your hand out of the way, and he supports your thigh with his own fingers. He makes sure there's enough cream spread over your leg, making quick work of the patch of hair that he hasn't shaved yet.
"See babe? I told you," He speaks too soon, the blade of the razor nicking your skin and letting blood leak from its slit, "I won't- oh shit, I cut you."
"Eddie," You groan, the familiar burning sensation at the curve where your thigh meets your ass, "I told you to be careful!"
"I was," Eddie groans, scrambling for a band-aid in the dingy medicine cabinet, "I swear!"
The razor is dropped unceremoniously into the sink and you can't help but cringe at it's careless placing. You'll lecture him for it later, though, because the pain at the back of your thigh is taking precedent.
Eddie dabs at the wound with the towel draped over the lid of the toilet. It stains the fabric, but it's only a dot. You let him bandage up your injury, and he offers his hand to help you to your feet afterwards, intent on the band-aid staying dry.
"I can shave you standing up," He promises, thumbing away a drop of cream-streaked water as it runs down your thigh, "M'sorry, sweetheart."
"It's fine," You hum, because it really is, it doesn't hurt anymore now that the warm water isn't stinging it like the pain of a needle anymore.
"It'll heal," He promises, leaning down to kiss the superman bandage stuck to your thigh, then the curve of your ass on the way back up, "Now, leg up on the bath, princess, I've gotta get your inner thigh."
Say it - Eddie Munson
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Request: No. Eddie loses a bet, now he has to face the consequences. Reader has a sister named Barbara-Ann because their parents love The Beach Boys and named her after the song (but who doesn't love the organised chaos of a beach boys song?)
Warnings: An empty threat of no sex. Short and sweet.
DISCLAIMER: the gifs that I use are not mine, all credit to the owner and person who made them. I find them on here or on Pinterest.
Joseph Quinn/Eddie Munson Master List
"Say it," Y/N commands her boyfriend.
Eddie firmly shakes his head, "No."
"Say it, Edward," she says again, adding the name he despises. He glares at her and settles onto their couch.
"No!" With a defiant look in his big beautiful brown eyes, he shakes his head and gestures his sentiment with his hands.
"You have to!" she exclaims, her voice rising slightly as their argument heats up.
"No, I don't!" he shouts at her, his voice rising a few notches like it does when he's annoyed, angry, or overwhelmed.
"You lost the bet, Edward Munson. It's time to pay up," she continues.
"You cheated," he claims.
"No, I didn't!" she protests.
"Yes, you did," he responds with an accusatory look on his face, his tongue jutting out of his mouth, licking his upper lip, and an arched eyebrow.
"How did I cheat?" she says, hands on her hips, looking down at him, waiting for his explanation of how she cheated on their bet.
Steve had visited Y/N two weeks prior to ask about her younger sister, Barbara-Ann (or Annie to most people). It's clear that the 19-year-old has formed a liking for the 18-year-old high school senior. Following numerous attempts to find love again, Y/N was unable to bring herself to break his heart or reveal her sister's secret.
However, that didn't stop Y/N and Eddie from making a bet amongst themselves. After all, Steve and Robin had a bet going to see how long it would take for Y/N and Eddie to get together. Steve had won that bet, with his bet being 4-6 weeks. If Y/N had waited two more days to make the first move, then Robin would have won.
Eddie was so sure that Steve could win over Barbara-Ann and had even gone out of his comfort zone to play wingman for Steve. Y/N believed that he wouldn't be able to, being the one who knows her sister better than they do. But as the days went by, it would be evident that his defeat was upon him.
"Because you've always known Barbara-Ann has a thing for Robin," he replies, surprising her enough to make her forget about the bet... temporarily.
"How did you know?" she wonders, her face filled with surprise and curiosity. Y/N was certain she was the only one Barbara-Ann had disclosed her preference for the same sex to.
"I know I'm not the smartest person, and I miss a lot of social cues and stuff, but it's not hard to miss the small glances, flirty smiles, and all the other shit that she gives Robin," he explains. "No offense to Barbara-Ann, but she is not as subtle as she thinks she is, and I'm quite sure Steve is the only one who is blind to it unless he's lying to himself."
"Steve can be a little dumb at times, but we still love him," she acknowledges, settling in beside him on the couch. "However, you still lost the bet, therefore you still need to say it."
"You cheated! Nobody wins and the bet is wiped. That is the rules," he disagrees with her.
"We didn't make any rules," she points out.
"Fuck," he groans as he realizes she's right. "I'm still not saying it."
"Fine, but no sex for a week," she adds non-chalantly. It's a hollow threat because she couldn't spend a week without sex with him either, and he knows that as soon as he touches her in an intimate way, she's putty in his hands. It's a useless threat, really.
"Baby, you know that I know that won't work," he smirks, moving his hand to her thigh and gently moving it upwards as his calloused fingers brush against her exposed delicate skin, igniting the desire between her legs.
She hesitates to grab his hand and pull it away from her thigh as he clearly makes his point, but eventually does so and stands up from the couch.
He raises an eyebrow at her and then follows her with his eyes to the wall-mounted phone. "What are you doing?"
"Calling Nancy to see if I can stay with her for the week," she says as she begins dialing the Wheeler's phone number. "I'm sure that I can come up with a plausible reason for why I need to stay with her."
Giving up, he stands up from the couch. Moving quickly to where she is standing, he takes the phone out of her hand and hangs it back up on the hook. He groans, "I'll say it."
She grins, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she looks at him expectantly, unfazed by the glare he's sending her.
He sighs and begins to quote what she had written down for him to say if he lost their bet, even though he hadn't lost due to a technicality. "I, Eddie," he pauses as she raises her brow at him. "I, Edward Munson," he corrects himself, continuing to glare at her. "Enjoy wearing Y/N's panties, especially the pink ones with the lace," he pauses again before speedily adding the last part. "They make me feel sexy and fierce."
Y/N finally lets out the laugh she has been struggling to contain.
"It makes me so happy that you find this so amusing," Eddie adds sarcastically, as he stands there with his hands on his hips, appearing to be unimpressed with his girlfriend.
"I'm sorry, baby," She says, with a small pout, as she threads her arms through his and encircles his waist. "I'll make it up to you."
"Yeah?" he says. "What are you going to do?"
"I'll let you borrow my panties," she replies, trying to keep a straight face.
"How about no sex for a week?" he suggests, repeating the empty threat she used a few minutes earlier.
She gasps, appearing shocked and offended, before mirroring his previous remarks as she moves her hands up and under his shirt, her fingernails raking along his stomach. "Oh, baby, you know that I know that won't work."
"That's it," he continues to mutter to himself as he stoops down, picks her up, putting her over his shoulder.
"Eddie!" she squeals, giggling as he carries her into their bedroom.
Joseph Quinn/Eddie Munson Master List | Stranger Things Master List | Ultimate Master List
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Best Husband On The Block
50 Day Blurb Challenge - list link here
Day 21 - Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt
Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader
Warnings - Playful yelling
Word Count - 0.4k
“AH-JESUS!” You hissed as Eddie slipped his nearly frozen hands under the warmth of your shirt. He tucked his cold nose into your neck, making you cringe further away from his grasp. His chuckles vibrated throughout your body as you gave up your struggle.
“Cold?” This asshat.
“Just a little.” You sarcastically seethed.
He just held you there wrapped in his arms until his hands sucked up every last drop of body heat you had.
“You know, if you were cold, we could’ve just cuddled.”
He unfurled his head from your neck so he could rebuttal. “But what fun would that be?”
“It would be so much fun for me.”
“It’s not that bad.” He snorted as he took in your reaction.
“Ed’s, it fuckin 30 degrees outside and for some ungodly reason you decided to shovel the driveway.” You pulled back to look at him fully.
His nose was still red, cheeks flushed and unruly hair tucked poorly into a purple beanie. It was yours considering Eddie didn’t own one, but he still felt the need to whine about the color.
“Doesn’t look very metal though,”
“Eddie, you're going to shovel snow not see Van Halen.”
His face dropped into a false shock. “Oh, so now I can't want to be the best husband on the block?”
There it is.
“Ohhhh, so that’s what this is about. Starting up a pissing contest with the other houses, are we?” You smiled up at him. Your hands dusted off the shoulders of his jacket like he was some big shot businessman.
His smile stretched impossibly big at your praise. “Well, I am the best husband. The proof is right there in our yard.” His hands rest on your hips, the cold dampness of the fabric sending a shiver down your spine.
“The other husbands are either elder or boarding on the edge of elderly.” You snorted.
“And now there is a younger, better husband on the block.”
You could practically see his head inflate in size.
“Well, if that’s the case,” you turned back towards the countertop where you had just poured fresh cups of hot chocalate. You held one mug out for Eddie to take. He carefully took it from your grip. You smiled up at him before continuing, mug hoisted up high. “Here’s to the best husband on the block.”
Eddie prompt: "reader, your the only party member left alive, you have 10 hit points left, what are you thinking" reader: "I'm thinking if I flash the DM, would that give me more hit points and an extra turn?"
Okay this 😍
You were the only player left alive in the campaign against vecna and you desperately needed to roll a 20. Realistically it wasn’t going to happen with the 10 hit points you had left but luckily for you the dungeon master had a soft spot for you. As your teammates watched in anticipation as you picked the dice up praying you would roll a 20 Eddies eyes firmly on you.
“Your the only party member left alive , you have 10 hit points what you thinking princess?” You could hear the smirk in eddies voice as he taunted you his arms splayed out on his throne tapping his rings against the table.The two of you had been playing a cat and mouse game for months where you would flirt with each other each time pushing the boundaries more but it would never lead anywhere despite you longing it would but tonight you were going to use this to your advantage. “Oh I’m thinking that if I flash the DM would that give me more HIT points and an extra turn?” You smirked as Eddies faced was hit with shock before his lips curled into a smile “ extra hit points for a flash with the bra extra turn for no bra take it or leave it princess” he clasped his hands together leaning back into his throne laughing to himself knowing you would never take up his offer.
But tonight you were brave so you got up from your seat grabbing eddies hand dragging him to the bathroom attached to the room. All the team were laughing and shouting praise clearly amused by how flustered Eddie looked for once his cocky attitude being put in its place.As you shut the door you lifted your top up showing your bare chest to him before lowering your top quickly. Eddie stared shocked before pining you to the door frame behind you “make sure you stay behind after the campaign princess and I’ll give you more then just bonus points” he whispered in your ear before pulling away completely “now let’s finish this campaign” he held the door open smirking ready for the night to come.