#eddie munson fluff scenario | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 1 year

Text

𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want? [3k]

fem!reader, shy!reader, implied inexpereinced!reader, friends-to-lovers, pining, mdni heavy petting, hickeys, lots of hickeys, marking up, neck kissing, shoulder kissing, heat of the moment confessions, eddie being flirty but also a good friend, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie strokes down the length of his guitar neck almost tenderly. You're focused on his hands rather than his mouth as he recounts last night's date to you, distracted by the deft movement of his fingers, which aren't exactly small. It's an oxymoron —paradoxical, even— that his thick fingers would move with such gentle precision.

You shift around where you're sitting on his bedroom floor, criss-cross applesauce with an uncomfortable heat rising from the bottomless pit of your stomach to your tight collar. The white button up you'd worn under your sweater vest is a size too small. You're really starting to notice.

You peel out of the vest and hope it'll help you calm down.

"She wasn't exactly sweet," Eddie says, plucking a string, listening to the sound, and tuning it this way or that depending on how he liked it. "I think she wanted to get it over with, which isn't really my thing. She was in my lap before I could make it clear I wasn't interested in anything quick."

You lift your gaze from his hands. He must feel you watching his face. He looks up in tandem and smiles reassuringly. "It's fine. I kind of thought she was getting into it, she was like a vampire on me at one point, but I wasn't feeling it and it's clear she wasn't either. Drove her home. How was your night, d'you watch that tape?"

You trace the coil of a black curl down to his shoulder, and can't force yourself to meet his eyes as you ask, "A vampire?"

"What?"

"She was like a vampire at one point, you said." Eddie's arm goes still. "What did you mean by that?" you ask.

He puts his guitar down on the floor. You worry you've said something truly dull for him to place his sweetheart in such a rush, but Eddie's like that. He can tell you're embarrassed no doubt, and he's giving you the answer to your question as swiftly as he can to soothe the wound.

"Here, look," he says. He pushes his hair away from his neck on one side and tilts his head, bearing a wine-stained curve of skin to you unabashedly. "She kissed me. She gave me a hickey, used a lot of teeth. That's why it's bruised so much on the edges."

Warmth you've never felt rushes in, like your blood has superheated, and it's written on your face. Eddie's room feels suddenly a thousand times smaller than before and more intimate, his poster wallpaper curving in, the space between you inching closer.

"Sorry," he says, "I know it's kind of weird to show you."

"No, I'm sorry," you say, mortified. "I shouldn't have asked you."

"Yeah, you should. You didn't get it and now you do. I don't mind telling you."

Eddie lets his hair fall back against his neck, a kinky curtain that looks ridiculously soft in the orangey light of his lamp. There's a butter smoothness to it, and the way he moves as he does is worse, his hand open and reaching for you. He doesn't hold your hand, doesn't even try, just lets his upturned palm hang off the edge of his knee as if to say, Ask me whatever it is you want to ask me. It's cool.

"Why would she do that?" you ask, gesturing to your neck.

"It's not her fault, I was flirting with her a ton trying to make it work."

"Not like that."

Eddie's hand turns toward his knee. "Like what?"

Your hand drifts to your own neck absentmindedly. You get kissing, wanting to be kissed and wanting to give them. You understand why she kissed his neck; if you'd been in her position, alone in the car with Eddie laying his charm on thick, you might climb the console and push aside his hair too.

"I know why she kissed you. I don't see why she…" You rub your lips together, your embarrassment turning sharp. You hate how humiliating this feels. "I know what a hickey is, Eds, but why would you want one?"

His turn to fluster. The tiniest tinge of pink paints his cheeks. "Are you asking me why I enjoyed it?"

"Did you?"

You despise yourself, truly. Worse when Eddie laughs, his chest forward, hair falling in his face as he chuckles sincerely.

"Yeah," he says, smiling at you "I liked it. Before she started trying to kill me I was having a good time."

He doesn't put you through the agony of asking what you both know he wants to.

You've never had one?

"It feels warm, and it's– you know how being kissed gives you butterflies, right? It's better than that. It's hot, and all her weight is on you and you have your hand on her back trying to pull her in, and she's as close as she can be without, you know." Something flickers across Eddie's face. Not longing, but a remembered pleasure. It makes you squirm.

"I don't see how it doesn't just hurt."

The hand that hadn't been reaching for you holds a pick. He flashes it between his fingers, a party trick, a nervous tic, his eyelashes tangling together as his eyelids inch closed. He scrunches his face up for a second.

"Don't hate me if I ask you something weird," Eddie says, eyes shut tight.

You don't think you could. You watch Eddie's face, knowing he can't see your analysis, and feel a shock of pins and needles in your hands when his eyes open and immediately lock on to yours.

"Do you want me to give you one?" he asks.

Your lips feel like they've been glued shut. You're aware of your breathing, how shallow each inhale has become, but you can't do anything about it.

He has the decency to acknowledge what position his question puts you in, "I know it might be weird but I can't describe it to you if you don't know what it feels like."

You surprise him. You surprise yourself. "Uh, yeah. Okay."

"Yeah?"

"It doesn't hurt?"

"Not unless you want it to." A hint of a smirk plays on his lips, though it fades quickly. "It doesn't hurt. That's not the point. But it can feel… foreign."

You nod jerkily, wishing you knew what to do.

The atmosphere is thick enough to cut through. Neither of you like it. Eddie gives you another type of smile, a familiar one that says, I'm your best friend, I always will be, so please chill out.

"You're gonna have to sit in my lap."

You actually laugh. "Eddie," you chastise, thinking it's a bad joke.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's that or the bed." His teasing tone is light, but he still adds, "I mean, we can do it sitting next to each other but it's difficult. Whatever you want, though."

You climb up on your knees. You're shy, absolutely, you always will be and especially when Eddie's teasing, but he really is your best friend, and the bed isn't happening.

He doesn't scare you.

He grins and ushers you toward him. "Alright, come here." He tugs one of your thighs over his lap and your breath catches. He grabs the other and any laughter between you abruptly dies.

You settle over his lap with an expression not far from pained. Eddie's hands rest against your thigh and your hip. He has to look up at you now, and he does as he encourages your weight firmly downward. You're more than conscious of where you're positioned.

"Do me a favour?" he asks.

"Yeah." You put your hand on his chest tentatively.

"Don't suffer through it if you hate it, okay? All you have to do is say something and I'll stop, but if you feel like you can't, a good right hook would work too."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," you protest.

"Me neither," he says. His hand lifts from your thigh to your neck, and he brushes his fingertips down the curve of it ineffectually. It would feel good if you weren't choking on air. "Relax, sweetheart. Please."

"I'm really warm."

"Your shirt's too tight anyway," he says, hand at your collar. He thumbs open your top button, a second, and exposes the flat of your chest. His fingers slide across your neck as he folds back your starched collar. They're cool compared to the raging heat he finds there.

You take a deep breath.

"You could put your hands in my hair," he says. Wishful thinking has hope colouring his tone.

You put your hands on his shoulders. The very tips of your fingers partition his curls.

He raises an arm above your mess of limbs to weave a hand behind your ear. It's then that you feel his callouses, so rough against the delicate skin of your scalp. Despite their texture, you find it feels good. He tucks his hand in tight, and slowly, slowly turns your head to the side.

"Look up," he murmurs.

You lift your head and stare at the ceiling with widened eyes.

He can't know but he does, and he says, "Close your eyes." The heat of his breath kisses your neck.

You shiver at the suggestion of his lips, and again when they press to your skin. Close-lipped, Eddie kisses the skin just under your ear where on the opposite side of your head his thumb strokes quarter circles. You're quickly overwhelmed by the duelling sensations. You don't notice his lips have parted until he's kissing a sloven path downward, his spit cooling in wake.

This isn't a hickey, this is straight up kissing, and you don't know what to do with how you feel. You hide your hands in his hair.

It tugs him forward. He reads your hands for enthusiasm, and if it is or isn't he pulls you closer still and opens his mouth against your skin. His teeth are impossible to ignore.

Your hand works further into his hair, getting caught in a tangle as he sucks your skin between his lips. His lazy mouthing turns insistent but still gentle, his teeth scratching ever so slightly at your pulse as it capers beneath his ministrations. You gasp at the warmth blossoming under your ribs. You cup the back of his neck a touch too tight.

He doesn't stop kissing you, only grabs your wrist to stop you from choking him out. You make a sound you've never made with him before, a mewl, all breathless and teary as the sensation worsens. Which is to say, betters.

He breaks a particularly rough kiss to suck in breath, his nose sliding up the curve of your neck as he leans back. "You okay?" he murmurs, half-lidded eyes locking onto your flushed face.

"Why does it feel like that?" you ask.

He drops his head, his nose level with your chin. "I don't know," he says, punctuating with a kiss right there, the closest bit of skin he can find. "Want me to do it again?"

You swallow and he must see it. He says nothing, wrapping his arms around your waist as he waits for you to respond. Your stomach pushes into his, your arms braced on his shoulder so you don't collapse into his front, limp with touch.

"Sweetheart, can I do it again?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, quiet but enthusiastic. "Please."

He's slower this time. Eddie leans into your neck and doesn't kiss you at first, his lips so close to your skin that you can feel their phantom. You skin tingles from his previous scandalising, and it doesn't beg, skin can't beg, but you can, you curl your arm behind his neck and hook his head there, crushing his hair to the crook of your arm. He doesn't take much convincing beyond that. His lips smush against your neck and you feel every millimetre as they part, heat and warmth and wet spreading like budding flowers come to bloom. You melt into him soon after, and Eddie takes your weight in stride, hand at the small of your back and pulling you in so hard you can feel his ribs.

When you think you're used to it —not used to it, but expecting what can be expected— Eddie nips you. Tiny dainty kisses broken up with a nibbling you'd couldn't describe as anything but playful. He laughs at your gasping and does it again, again, giddy hot laughter mixed with one of the strangest feelings you've ever been subjected to. You're molten. You're dizzy with it.

Eddie pulls back enough to ask, "I'm gonna undo another button, okay? Just one. Is that alright?"

"What for?"

"So I can kiss your shoulder. Just your shoulder." He sounds pleading, desperately excited in a way you've never heard him and you want to know what it'll feel like, so you let him.

This next button unveils the top of your bra and the soft hills of your breasts. He doesn't look, barely glances at his hand as he tugs your shirts down your arm, diving into the juncture of your neck like he needs it to breathe. His kisses are proper compared to some of the stuff he's been doing, but then he opens his mouth and the flat of his tongue wets your skin as he kisses kisses kisses down your shoulder. His hand is somewhere under your shirt, fingers slipped under your bra strap and pulling teasingly at the elastic as he eases you down in his arms. You're shorter than him where you'd started taller, totally compressed in his arms and at his mercy.

When he pulls back, the slimmest ribbon of spit shines between your shoulder and his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his eyes glassy, and that hand cups your face. He pretty much grabs you, but there's not a lick of cruelty in his touch. Eddie's rough. Never cruel.

"You're on fire," he says. It's objective rather than joking. "You're so hot. Do you want to stop?"

"Not– not unless you want to," you say, trying to quieten your breathing. You sound like you've run a marathon. It feels like it.

"I'm gonna give you a real one, cool?"

"I didn't know they weren't real."

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, and his eyes are damning, a loving pity in the black of his blown pupils, "I was just warming you up."

Your mind blanks.

"Make sure I can hide it," you say.

You aren't thinking straight, concerned about hiding his hickeys but not what this means for the two of you. His unexpected hunger, and your willingness to let him eat you whole.

"I don't think you can hide it anymore," he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You look down at his lips. They're rosy, swollen from the pressure.

He sees you looking.

He yanks you in by the waist and sizes you up, almost, like he's calling your bluff, not spiteful but something mean about him as he stares at your mouth in return.

Like he doesn't want you to make the mistake. Like he knows you won't.

His hand tips your chin up high and he ducks his own down. An inch and you'd be kissing. That's all it would take.

"Is that really what you want?" he asks.

"I don't know," you say. Is it what he wants?

It has to be.

"Have you wanted to, before?" He draws a line down your cheek with his marriage finger. Fast as a heavy tear. "You want me to kiss you?"

"Yeah," you whisper, trying to make sense of this, your sudden confession, a secret want pushed into the light.

Eddie turns his hand and strokes down your cheek with the back of it, pushing any dampened baby hairs away from your skin. His gaze softens.

"Was that so hard?" he asks.

"You knew?"

He kisses you. He's smiling, and he doesn't take just one. He must kiss you four or five times, your lips parted enough to know he could push it further if he wanted, but he doesn't. These kisses are unhurried, missing the ravenous passion of his hickeying but not the fondness.

"You don't know how hard it is," he says after he's broken away, his forehead tipped against yours, "how hard it is to have someone look at you like you look at me everyday, like I'm something you can't have."

"I didn't know–" you knew. You felt the same. His kissing is evidence alone. it's confessional.

"I know. Guess I thought nothing good would come of it, but– but I don't want good. I want you."

He pulls back quickly, like you've said something confessional rather than him. He surprised himself.

"I'm not good?" you ask.

"You're good. You'll ruin me, that's all."

You don't have time to ask him what he means by that. He kisses you again, kisses your cheek, draws a line of crescent moons down along your neck to the mess he's made of you. He kisses– he sucks your neck so hard, so sudden, that goosebumps erupt and you can't stop yourself from saying, "Ohh," as you cling to his shoulders.

This is the vampire thing he'd talked about, the points of his teeth stark against your skin even now. There's another layer of vulnerability unveiled here, knowing that he could really hurt you and knowing he never would. He kisses you until you're overwhelmed by him. Heat everywhere. Sweat shining on your skin. You don't want anything else but this.

You squeak as the pressure turns from pleasurable to too much. Eddie hears the pain in it and pulls away, instantly sorry and willing to prove it, his hands cradling your face.

You pant. He shushes you gently.

"Sorry, baby." He pets your cheeks.

Your head falls back, too heavy on your sore neck. You feel wiped.

Wiped, but good. Lax.

"That was nice," you say breathlessly.

Eddie sits up and drags you with him, hand behind your neck to prop you up. He's laughing again, his awful sweet laugh that you've heard a thousand times before. It never fails to make you smile.

"You're like a dead fish."

You cover an eye with your hand. "I take it the romance is over."

"You thought that was romantic? Babe, I'm only getting started."

Eddie gives you a quick peck. Where his hickey had felt like the heart of a star growing hotter with each passing second, his smaller kiss feels like the sun through blinds, a dappling of warmth.

"Are you messing with me?" you ask.

He pushes his arms over your shoulders for a hug.

"No. Not messing with you." His nose rubs against the shell of your ear. "It's about time we talked."

You let your hand drift down the dip of his back.

"Okay," you mumble. Talking. You need to talk about whatever it is that just happened.

"...Maybe I'll get you a glass of water first," he adds.

"That's a good idea."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider letting me know/reblogging, it means the world to me and makes a big difference!! ♡ NOTE: Eddie def pines back if that isn't fully clear, I tried to imply it with his date where he could've hooked up with someone but didn't go through with it, it was cos he's too in lurve

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #ish #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

14K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

i imagine eddie working out in his room like doing push-ups, pulls ups, AND he’s shirtless😭😭but he’s doing it secretly and reader walk into his room and he gets all flustered and embarrassed but reader thinks it’s the hottest things she’s ever seen GOD

this post is 18+, minors dni.

If you had to guess, you'd say that Eddie is a little bit insecure. Not that he should be, you like him just the way he is, but you're friends with some of Hawkins' athletes, and at times Lucas seems to have bigger arms than your boyfriend does.

It doesn't bother you, but you think it might bother him a little. He starts wearing longer sleeves instead of his worn out muscle tanks, and you miss being able to stick your greedy fingers through the gaped sleeves to grab at his stomach. He's also started dissuading you from looking under his bed, which you think is suspicious because you already know about the porn magazines under there. Whatever he's hiding must be worse, and you're a little nervous to tell the truth. You have half a mind to ask Wayne if he's noticed anything odd lately, but you don't get the chance to because he's already gone for work by the time you get to Eddie's trailer for the day.

Eddie had said he was busy with work, so you assume he's halfway across town with sixteen pizzas in the back of his van to deliver. You decide to check beneath his bed, at the risk of ruining a possible birthday surprise, and you trek towards his bedroom with worry set low in your stomach.

His door is closed; that's an even worse sign. He doesn't have anything to hide from you or Wayne, you both know about his less-than-conventional 'side job'. When you twist the knob it opens, but slams into something hard, and you hear a familiar voice hiss 'ouch!'.

You rush into the small gap that you'd made with the door, finding Eddie on his hands and knees on the carpet. He's wearing a tank and his gym shorts, showing off his slightly trembling arms as he stumbles to his feet.

"What-" He grunts, eyes blown wide in panic, cheeks colored from exhaustion, "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" You counter, eyeing him up and piecing clues together, "Were you working out?"

"No!" He snaps, chest heaving with both adrenaline from being caught, and fatigue from his exercise, "I'm- I was just cleaning my room."

There's something undeniably attractive about his look right now. Frizzy hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, red cheeks, shaky limbs, and chest heaving.

"On the floor," You narrow your eyes, "Sweaty and shaking?"

"I- That's not... yes." He doubles down with a huff, "I'm trying to get gum off of my carpet. It's hard work."

"Gum," You repeat, and he nods stiffly, "Oh, shut up."

He rears his head backwards in slight shock at your tone, but you don't give him the chance to process it before you're lunging for him. You feel like jumping him, and maybe that's what you're doing as you push him back towards his bed, your mouth firmly over his own. He lets out a muffled cry into the kiss as he falls backwards, bouncing on the mattress while you kick a foot beneath the bed.

The arch of your foot hits weights, and everything makes sense.

"Fuck," You hiss, crawling over top of him on the bed. He's looking half bewildered and half aroused, already chubbing up in his workout gear, "You've been working out?"

"Yeah," He finally admits, voice and breath shaky together, "I- I just thought that it might be nice to get a little bigger. Like- my arms, my- my muscles."

He seems mortified admitting it, but your thumb is already slipping beneath the hem of his tank top, brushing along his bare stomach. He shivers at the contact, and you dip down to kiss him again.

"That's hot," You decide, both thumbs now stroking at his waistline. His hips stutter, jerking up into your grip when you hit a particularly sensitive spot, and his breath hitches into the kiss that you press to his lips.

"Really?" He asks, lips already spit-slicked.

You nod, kissing his jaw, "Totally. Can I watch?"

He laughs, a sharp, breathy sound, "Babe- mm, fuck," You nip lightly at his neck, kissing the mark after, "You can watch me work out every day if you're gonna maul me like this."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

3K notes · View notes

appocalipse · 2 months

Text

never mine ✧ eddie munson

bartender!eddie x fem!reader • old friends to lovers • chapter 01 • 3.5k words

ೃ ✦ ✧ ∗ ❥ ҉

Summary: After everything that had happened with Vecna and the Upside Down, Eddie Munson left Hawkins as soon as you and the rest of your friends managed to clear his name. And you understood why Eddie and his uncle had made that decision. Truly, you did; Eddie's innocence had been proven, yes, but Hawkins was a small town and some people would always turn up their noses at them. It didn't mean you didn't miss Eddie, or think about him over the course of the next decade. Somehow, in your heart, you always felt that one day you would meet him again. The last place you thought that would happen, though, was at a bar — that Eddie, now in his early thirties, owns in New York.

ೃ ✦ ✧ ∗ ❥ ҉

It isn't the type of bar you usually frequent.

For starters, it's tucked away on a relatively quiet street in Brooklyn instead of being one of those swanky, pop-up bars you've gotten used to seeing all over Manhattan since moving here from Boston last year. Also, it's more rustic than sleek, more dark than trendy, its exterior walls adorned with faded red bricks, its small windows lined with black frames. It seems almost like an anachronism among the new construction that has been sprouting up all over this part of the neighborhood.

But even before you get close enough to see what the sign reads, something about this little place feels oddly familiar. In some intangible way, it reminds you of a time you left behind when you moved here: your years spent growing up in a sleepy Indiana town named Hawkins.

And maybe it's just because it's clearly about to rain — the air wet and misty, as though a storm is coming — but right now, for reasons you can't explain, you feel compelled to enter.

So you take a deep breath, open the heavy wooden door and step inside.

The inside is as rustic as the outside, with one long bar stretching across most of the space, booths running along the adjacent walls, and several tables scattered in the center beneath the glow of dim, gold lights. A jukebox quietly plays 'In Bloom' by Nirvana at the back. And just like outside, everything feels achingly familiar, a wave of nostalgia you don't quite understand crashing into you so intensely that you have to grip one of the barstools tightly to steady yourself.

"One sec, doll. Be right with ya!"

He's not really looking at you when he says those words. He's got his back turned, hands busy preparing a drink at the far end of the bar, head just barely visible as he hunches over to scoop ice cubes from the metal container beside him. You can't see much from where you're standing — he's wearing a denim jacket rolled up to his elbows, hair pulled up into a messy bun at the top of his head — but there's something about his voice, sweet yet gravelly, something about what little you can see of his face that makes your breath catch in your throat.

And then he straightens up, turns around. And you both freeze, staring at each other.

Eddie Munson.

It's impossible. But it's him; the same Eddie who sold you weed a couple times your senior year of high school. The same Eddie you grew to call a friend before he left Hawkins without even saying goodbye. The same Eddie whose name still leaves a dull ache in your chest if you think about it too long.

Ten years later, and he's somehow more handsome than ever, all grown up. His hair is a little shorter, curlier than you remember. He's wearing dark-wash jeans and a navy Henley beneath his scuffed leather jacket. That playful expression you once found so adorable is now made even more endearing by a small scar across one eyebrow. And those eyes — a warm brown, expressive as always — are locked onto yours as his lips part, slightly agape.

"Y/N?"

Your heart pounds in your ears when you nod. It's hard to tell what emotion lies behind his gaze, but after a few seconds of staring at you like this, he slowly places the drink he was preparing down on the bar countertop and all but runs toward you, a giant grin lighting up his face.

He nearly knocks you off your feet with the force of his hug, pulling you tight against him.

But you're not complaining.

You cling to him just as tightly, your cheek pressed against his chest. The scent of cedar and tobacco mixed with something else — something unmistakably Eddie — overwhelms your senses as he picks you up a few inches off the ground and spins you around with an excited laugh, making you wrap both arms around his neck for stability.

"Jesus Christ," he exclaims, setting you down before gently taking hold of your shoulders. "I can't believe it's really you."

For the briefest moment, it almost feels as though you've gone back in time, returned to 1986 — the year everything changed forever — right after defeating Vecna for good and before Eddie moved away with his uncle, Wayne, just days before you followed suit to leave for college.

And it seems impossible — ridiculous, really — that you should both be standing here, in this bar in New York of all places, years and years later. So you just stand there blinking, speechless, trying to make sense of it all with the most stunned smile plastered across your face.

"I—"

"What's going on out here?" someone yells from the other side of the room. "For fuck's sake, Ed, if you're gonna flirt with another customer, do it a little more quietly."

At that, Eddie drops his hands from your shoulders and turns toward the woman speaking, more amused than you've ever seen him. He playfully sticks his tongue out at her before giving you a wink.

"Sorry about that," he chuckles.

The woman leans forward a little bit, squinting as though she can't quite believe what she sees. Then a smile stretches across her face, too. "Wait, aren't you–"

"Yes," Eddie interrupts. "It's her, Dottie."

The woman — Dottie — seems to be in her 50s, with shoulder-length blond hair streaked with gray and a sleeve of colorful tattoos on one arm. When she strides toward you, she's wearing an easy smile that crinkles the corners of her green eyes, extending her hand to you over the bar.

"Hey there. I'm Dorothea, but everyone calls me Dottie. You must be the girl that Eddie—"

Eddie quickly steps in between you. "We were just catching up, actually," he explains. "Do you mind giving us a few minutes to ourselves? Great, thank you."

He doesn't give her time to respond; Eddie kisses the back of Dottie's hand and grins, then wraps his fingers around your wrist as he drags you behind the bar, through a set of double doors leading to a stairwell.

"Mind the step, sweetheart, it's a little steep," he cautions, keeping a tight grip on you as you both ascend the stairs.

And maybe it's because you're just getting over a breakup, but your stomach flutters from the nickname, from the way his thumb draws gentle circles into your skin.

This isn't the first time he's called you sweetheart. You don't know why it affects you differently now.

"Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer until the two of you reach the top of the stairs, at which point he drops his hand from your wrist and faces you.

"Well, here we are!" he announces, stretching out his arms and turning in a full circle. "Home, sweet home."

You blink as you look around, realizing you're standing inside an apartment — presumably Eddie's — whose open floor plan means you can see straight into the kitchen and living room.

"I can't believe you live here," you mumble, more to yourself than anything else.

A large black sofa sits opposite the TV, a coffee table littered with beer bottles, candles and an ashtray between them. There's a little dining room table for four beside the couch, across from the galley kitchen where the counters are covered with dirty dishes. But despite the mess, everything still feels very... cozy, somehow. Welcoming.

Eddie chuckles, reaching behind himself to loosen the hair tie at the base of his skull. A few tendrils fall loose across his forehead as he tousles his hair, then combs his fingers through it. You feel something twist in your abdomen, your breath hitching in your throat.

Fuck, you think. That's distracting.

"Yeah, me either sometimes," he says with a shrug. "But it's got a roof, a bathroom and a bed. It used to be Dottie's, but now that she and Wayne are married, she decided to move in with him instead."

"Your uncle got married?"

Eddie nods, and the expression that settles in his features softens as he talks about his uncle.

"They met at the bar. Got hitched a few years ago, have a little place not far from here. It's cute, really. Like a little love story for old folks or something. But yeah, this place is all mine now. Not bad, huh?"

Your heart aches a little hearing this — not because you're sad that his uncle found love (you do feel happy for him), but because you hadn't realized how much you've missed in the last decade, how much of Eddie's life you weren't around for.

Still, you smile.

"Not bad at all," you agree.

Eddie's returning grin is more hesitant this time. As if he wants to say more, but he's unsure of how.

"I missed you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Because you had; so much more than you ever knew was possible. Even when you'd only grown close to him for a few weeks before he moved away, he had managed to make such an impression on you that his absence became a wound you couldn't quite heal, no matter how many years passed.

So for the longest time, you told yourself that he'd probably forgotten all about you anyway, since he never tried to contact you after he left. It was easier that way, somehow. Better than waiting for something that would never happen.

"Me too," Eddie breathes, voice so quiet you might have imagined it. "Me too, sweetheart."

For a second, you can't breathe.

When you do, you inhale his scent, a hint of weed and tobacco mixed with cedar. His cologne, then, you suppose. And there's something entirely new, too, something that belongs uniquely to him.

You stare at Eddie, trying to find the right words, but all you can manage to utter is:

"Really?"

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. Maybe concern, too.

"What? Why do you seem surprised?"

"No, I just–" you trail off, thinking. "I dunno. I guess I just...figured you wouldn't even remember me after so long. It's been...what? Ten years?"

"You thought I didn't remember you?" he asks incredulously, and those deep brown eyes widen a fraction.

You bite your lip, sheepish. "I don't know. Maybe. A little bit," you confess, looking away.

Eddie exhales a half-chuckle.

"Sweetheart, you're — Jesus — you're not exactly easy to forget," he utters softly, almost like he hopes you won't hear.

You can't help but laugh at this, although your cheeks immediately warm up, burning like fire. "Says you."

There's something almost bashful in the way Eddie smiles, his gaze cast downward as he reaches for a strand of hair and curls it around one finger.

"Don't you wanna sit down?" he asks. "I'll get you something to drink. Any preference?"

"Whatever you're having is fine," you reply, still a little overwhelmed by everything that's happening as he gestures for you to take a seat on his sofa.

"Alrighty. Just wait here. One sec."

As you make yourself comfortable on the black leather, you notice several framed photographs atop the mantle of the fireplace. Most of the pictures depict Eddie with people you've never met — a tall, handsome black man, a blond guy, a girl with short, spiky hair and a tattooed arm — but the one you can't look away from is a smaller frame with a picture of you, Dustin and the rest of your friends squeezed tightly together, the sun setting behind you.

It was taken after you beat Vecna in 1986. Before Eddie moved. Before you did, too. Everyone in the picture looks dirty and exhausted, but there's also an air of celebration hanging over all of you that you can clearly see just by the wide, gleeful smiles stretching across your faces.

"It's a real shame you ever doubted it, by the way."

Eddie's voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you turn around to find him already halfway to the couch. He's holding two beers in his hands.

"I wasn't—I didn't mean to pry or anything," you explain, your heart beating a little faster.

He shrugs as he hands you one of the beers and takes a seat beside you, close enough for you to feel his thigh press against yours.

"Nah, it's okay," he assures, his gaze traveling to the picture you were examining a few seconds ago. "That's a good memory."

You nod in agreement as you bring the bottle to your lips. It's cool and refreshing against your tongue, but not as calming as you need it to be.

"I'm sorry for just barging in here, by the way. I don't actually know why I came in the first place, I just... felt like something was pulling me in," you tell him.

And it's true; that strange sense of familiarity that tugged you forward earlier today has started to fade, now replaced by a comforting warmth that feels like coming home.

Eddie snorts a laugh before taking a swig of his beer.

"Sorry, I'm just making it weirder and weirder, aren't I?" you groan, leaning forward to place your beer on the coffee table.

Eddie sets his down, too.

"No, you're not, sweetheart," he soothes, taking one of your hands in his and rubbing a calloused thumb over your knuckles. "Why would you think that?"

You can't look at him when you answer.

"I don't know, I just... I spent years wondering about what happened to you after you left Hawkins, and then I randomly show up here, and now we're just sitting on your couch like we haven't spent ten years apart? It feels insane."

There's something unreadable in the way he's looking at you, then.

"You look really pretty, by the way," Eddie says.

Your heart is thumping so loudly you worry he can hear it.

"Oh yeah?" you tease with a grin, desperate to hide the fact that you can feel yourself blush all the way up to the tips of your ears. "Prettier than when we were twenty-one?"

The grin he flashes you is bright and lopsided, playful.

"Way, way prettier, actually," he drawls.

Your brain seems to malfunction after this, his words playing on a loop, over and over and over again inside your head. And all you can do is return his smile, feeling a pleasant heat pool in your belly that has nothing to do with alcohol. "Eddie Munson, are you flirting with me?"

He laughs at this — a genuine, low chuckle.

"Depends. Is it working?"

Yes, you think.

"Not at all."

"Liar," he smirks before raising the hand he's still holding and pressing a kiss to its back. "Then yes, I am."

Your breath catches in your throat, a thrill running down your spine as Eddie holds your gaze with a small smile. But then it fades, replaced by something more serious as he absentmindedly traces a pattern onto your palm with his fingertip.

"Can I ask you something?"

You nod. He lets go of your hand.

"If you're here, does that mean you're also living in New York?" he asks, eyes filled with a cautious hope as he stares at you. "Or did you just happen to be passing through on vacation?"

"I moved here a year ago," you tell him, biting your bottom lip. "I can't believe you're really here. What are the chances, right?"

It feels like some kind of cosmic joke. And while you never quite stopped hoping that you and Eddie might meet again someday, you didn't expect it to happen like this. In a bar. In New York.

Ten years later.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, huh?"

"You sound like an old man."

He chuckles at your teasing tone before bending forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together in front of him.

"I just—this is gonna sound totally lame, but..."

Eddie trails off, chewing on his lower lip as he searches your eyes.

"Go ahead," you urge gently.

He runs a hand through his hair, pushing a few strands away from his face as he takes a deep breath.

"When I left Hawkins, I felt like a fucking idiot because I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to you. Not really, I mean. And I—shit, I really wanted to. More than anything. So... the reason why I left without saying anything was because I was scared that if I saw you one last time, I'd lose my nerve and not leave at all. And...I know, I know it's dumb, because we had only known each other for a couple of weeks, but—"

"It's not dumb," you assure him. "Not to me, at least."

It's one thing knowing someone for a long period of time and losing them. But when you grow attached to someone so quickly, so suddenly — like you did with Eddie — it leaves an emptiness behind. Something you can't quite fill, nor begin to explain to anyone else without feeling as though you're speaking nonsense.

"It's not?"

"No. Not at all."

And you wonder if he can see the vulnerability in your eyes when you reach forward and brush your fingertips over his. It's all you dare to do, all the courage you can muster, but he responds by uncurling his own and sliding them between your palms. His hand feels warm, smooth. Cold where the silver of his rings touches your skin.

"I never forgot you, you know? And I—" he stops, and you watch him swallow hard. "Shit. Sorry. You're gonna think I'm a creep."

"Try me."

The smile on his face is shy and endearing, his cheeks flushed pink when he admits: "Sometimes I have this...dream."

You cock your head to one side, curious. "What about?"

"About you."

Eddie glances down at his hand in yours, studying it for a moment like it's the most interesting thing in the room.

"Mostly about that night you saved me. You know, from the bats."

"I didn't save you," you protest. "I just...I got lucky."

He scoffs, shakes his head like that's the most preposterous thing he's ever heard.

"Sweetheart, I was half dead when you showed up. If it wasn't for you, I would be completely dead right now."

You glance at Eddie's side, where you remember him having an angry, festering wound when you found him. You wonder if the scar is still there, if it bothers him.

"Maybe," you concede, and his smile returns. "So you dream about that?"

"Among other things. Yeah."

Your heart hammers in your chest as you consider what those other things might be, his gaze intense upon you as you nervously wet your bottom lip with your tongue.

"Other things?" you repeat.

"Other things," he confirms. "I might tell you about 'em sometime if you play your cards right, though."

"Oh, right," you muse, pulling your hands away from his with a soft chuckle. "This is you flirting, isn't it?"

"So what if it is?" he asks, grinning as he leans back on the couch cushion.

You don't miss the way he looks at you, the same way he used to in high school whenever he was trying to get under your skin, to rile you up. And it seems that — even after all these years, with you all grown up, both of you in your early thirties — he hasn't lost his touch.

"So what if it is," you echo.

Eddie raises both eyebrows, smirking. "Guess you're gonna have to come back sometime if you wanna find out. You know, just to be sure."

"I—" you hesitate, realizing you hadn't considered the possibility of leaving before, too caught up in the whirlwind of seeing him again after so long. "Shit, yeah, I should...I should go, I've kept you long enough as it is. I should let you get back to work—"

You move to stand up, but a gentle hand on your arm stops you.

"Wait," he pleads, voice soft. "Do you...have anywhere you gotta be? Anywhere you need to rush off to?"

"Um—" you look down at the floorboards, shifting your weight from foot to foot. "Just my bed? It's getting late. Well, not really, but...it will be soon?"

The tension slowly eases from Eddie's body as he relaxes, his expression becoming playful.

"Are you asking or telling?" he teases.

You sigh.

"I don't wanna intrude."

"You're not. At all," Eddie says firmly, his words a promise. "Besides, you still have a lot to catch me up on. So you can tell me all about whatever boring day job you landed now that you're living the big apple life, and I'll tell you about my band, which has a gig tomorrow, by the way, so you're definitely coming to see it."

"Wow, you're bossy now," you point out.

His eyes gleam as they hold yours, and when he speaks, his voice is husky, full of mischief.

"You have no idea, sweetheart."

685 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 1 month

Note

hi mae !! im currently in love with eddie, so i was wondering if you could write an eddie x fem!reader drabble, where they're in a long distance relationship and are finally getting to see each other in person again after a while of being apart? if isnt something youre interested in, i understand :))

Hi gorgeous, thank you for requesting!!

cw: mention of weed (Eddie deals but they're not smoking)

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 708 words

Eddie likes to think of himself as erring on the wild side, but you know he sticks to his routines the same as a crotchety old man. And even though he’s graduated from high school, he still deals to a few of the kids he knew when he was there. You’re lucky; you step into the woods behind the school right as the buyer is leaving, a scraggly kid whose head bobs as he walks and who looks at you like you might go tattle to his parents. You’re too excited to take offense.

Eddie’s still sitting at his picnic table, one leg hiked up on the bench like he’s thinking of climbing up, closing the clasps of the tin lunchbox he keeps his stash in. He doesn’t startle as you come up behind him, just turns with a half interested look in his eyes.

A laugh bubbles out of you when they widen comically.

“Hey,” you say, picking up your pace to cross the distance to him.

“Holy fuck.” Eddie nearly trips getting out of his seat. He leaves the lunchbox behind. “Jesus, what the fuck?”

“Glad to see you too,” you laugh, putting your arms around him.

And you know from experience that Eddie’s a fantastic hugger, but this one is a bit of a scramble. He’s rushed, greedy, hands starting at your sides and then wriggling their way across your back until he’s got you where he wants you. Pulled tight against him with his arms banded across the high and low points of your back, face pressed into your shoulder, your feet still touching the ground but just barely. The whole production makes your chest hurt, a gratifying ache.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds almost like an accusation, muffled affectionately into the material of your shirt.

You can’t stop giggling. Eddie’s hair tickles your nose. “Crazy thing,” you reply, “they actually let us have summers off.”

Eddie’s funny in that he almost never asks the right questions. The last time you’d seen him had been during winter break, and when you’d gone back to school and been calling every night, he only asked about your life there. Always what you were doing and how much fun you were having, infinitely sweet in his support of your college experience even if he couldn’t share in it, and in his curiosity he’d somehow forgotten to wonder when you might be coming home again.

“Okay, smartass.” He gives you a happy little squeeze. “How long do I get you for?”

“Until August.”

Eddie makes a delighted moaning sound that sets your giggles off all over again.

“Yes.” His tone evokes the feeling of a fist-pump without the follow-through of the actual motion, but his hands slip from around you. He grabs your face and kisses you hard. “Fuck yeah!”

You’re grinning massively as you meet him kiss for kiss, arms crawling up around his shoulders.

“Best. Surprise. Ever.” He holds you still for a series of quick pecks, deviating from your lips to kiss your cheek, your nose. “Shit, is it, like, super unromantic if I start taking your clothes off?”

“Kinda,” you say, though you don’t deny him when one of his hands slips down to paw at your ass. “We’re maybe fifty feet from a high school right now.”

“Mhm, mhm, but hear me out.” Eddie’s words are interspersed with little suctioning sounds, his lips planting themselves eagerly upon any bit of you they can find. “Back when we went here, that would have been the hottest thing, you know? We can even go under the bleachers if you want.”

You don’t open your eyes, but they’re rolling. “My ovaries are quaking.”

Eddie groans low in his throat and squeezes your ass teasingly. “So stubborn.”

“We can go back to your place,” you offer.

“No, no.” He sighs, heavy and dramatic. “We’d have to drive, and I’m not ready to be across a console from you yet.” Eddie backs you up until your backside hits the picnic table, helping you up and positioning himself between your legs. His arms wrap around you again, half makeout and half hug. “Let’s stay here for a while. Wouldn’t be able to focus on the road anyway.”

421 notes · View notes

steveharringtonat3am · 3 months

Note

Could you imagine going on a late night walk with Eddie and you get to the lake and no one’s there and ofc he looks so good you just can’t resist giving him a blowjob???

both characters are over 18, warning for smut

The knock on your door doesn’t surprise you in the least. You’re already dressed, if you can consider pyjama pants and an oversized hoodie dressed. Eddie usually knocked on your door in the late hours of the day, when he knew you would be wide awake on the couch. Sometimes he would come in, but your favourite times were always when he told you to get your shoes on.

“C’mere.” He tugs at you as you slip your shoes on. His hands are warm as the cold air nips your nose. Your hoodie is one of his, so it does it’s job of keeping you warm.

“Hi Ed.” You kiss him in greeting. He tastes like coffee but you don’t comment on how late it is to be drinking caffeine.

“Hi sweetheart.” He interlocks your fingers as he leads the way out of your neighbourhood. It’s a peaceful night and you don’t talk much on the walk to the lake. Neither of you had a lot of free time, so it was nice to relax when spending time together.

You often ended up at Lover’s lake on this late night walks. You supposed it was the calming scent of the water that drew Eddie in, pulling you along with him. What he didn’t know if all you cared about was the way the moonlight illuminated his pretty face.

“Let’s sit here for a minute okay?” You mumble to Eddie, tugging him down with you. You’re on the edge of the forest with a perfect view of the lake. He offers no complaint, sitting next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Did you have a good day at work?” You ask, voice muffled as you press your face into his chest.

“It wasn’t too bad. Long as hell though.” He rubs your back as you scoot impossibly closer to him.

“You shouldn’t work so hard. Isn’t good for you.” You press a kiss to his jaw and his gaze shifts from the water to your face.

“It’s not so bad.” He denies, but his face tells a different story. You knew that some days it all got to be too much for him. That he just wanted to curl up and sleep for a million years. You couldn’t give him that, but you could help him relax tonight.

“Lemme make you feel good?” You practically whisper as you climb into his lap and straddle him. He leans back just a little to rest against the tree behind him as his eyes scan the area behind you. When he confirms you two are alone, he nods and places a kiss on your lips.

“Alright sweetheart. I’ll pay you back later alright?” He offers, ever the gentleman. You start to undo his pants, his hardness already straining against the fabric.

“Fuck…” He whispers under his breath as you gently stroke his cock. You’ve been with Eddie long enough to know exactly what drives him crazy. You run your tongue over the tip, basking in the soft gasp he makes at the feeling.

“How are you so good at this…” He mumbles, pushing some of your hair back as you take more of him into your mouth. Eddie does his best to let you lead but he can’t help the way he gently presses your head down.

“You can take it baby, I know you can.” He remarks as your eyes flick up to him. You allow him to take control as he moves your head up and down his shaft. His eyes squeeze shut as he focuses on the feeling of your mouth around him. He looks so pretty like this you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, mind filling with thoughts of him underneath you. But you focus on this for now, running your tongue along the underside of his cock.

“God…” He tosses his head back, hips starting to fuck into your mouth. You’re prepared for it of course, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth as he cums. You swallow as much as you can, using your tongue to clean him off as he pants.

“Such a good girl…” There’s a fucked out look in his eyes as you tuck his cock back into his pants and climb back into his lap. You rest your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“I love you Ed.”

“I love you too sweetheart. More than you’ll ever know.”

443 notes · View notes

harrywavycurly · 10 months

Text

“Will you be my husband really quick?”: A fake marriage with Eddie Munson AU.

Part 2: Here

Part 3: Here

A/N: I have been wanting to write this prompt for a while and I’m glad y’all want it too! There’s gonna be a part 2 don’t worry.

TW: Cursing and Eddie hits someone and this eludes that your ex wasn’t the nicest.

Eddie is two beers in on what he figured was going to be a normal Friday night at the Hideout when he feels a hand grip his arm as he’s leaned over the bar grabbing a lighter from behind the stack of napkins and straws. He pauses his movements as he looks down at the hand that’s still on his arm and slowly his eyes move upward until they finally land on your face. He notices your eyes are wide and you’re looking everywhere but at him as you scan the room as if you’re looking for someone, Eddie just stands up straight and places the lighter on the bar next to his half empty beer.

“Will you be my husband really quick?” Eddie knows he must be hearing things as you finally make eye contact with him. He watches as you seem to visibly relax a bit as you stare at him with a hopeful look on your face. “Please?” He doesn’t know what it is about you but he feels like if he tells you no he might actually regret it so instead he takes a quick sip of his beer as your hand falls from his arm and before you can react he’s draping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you into him.

“Who’s the target?” Eddie’s voice is low and you can feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear before placing a quick kiss to the side of your head, already playing into his husband role.

“Red shirt by the door.” You answer as one of your arms wrap around his middle, you feel Eddie lean away from you for a moment so he can get a good look at who you’re talking about.

“Jason fucking Carver?” You look up at Eddie who is glaring at the blonde haired man by the door and you feel yourself tense up as Eddie reaches for his beer so he can finish it off. “He your ex or something?” Eddie asks as he places the now empty bottle on the bar and motions to the bartender for another one.

“Yeah he’s uhm my ex.” Eddie can tell by your tone of voice you’re nervous and it makes him wonder what Jason did that caused the two of you to go your separate ways. “I’m sorry this is dumb I shouldn’t have bothered you.” You mumble as you try to move away from him but Eddie is quick to just pull you into him and wrap both arms around your shoulders making your cheek rest on his worn out Metallica shirt.

“Now what kind of husband would I be if I let you storm off like that?” Eddie begins running one of his hands up and down your back making you let out a soft sigh because for the first time in a long time you felt an odd sense of security and who would’ve thought that of all places it’s while wrapped in the arms of a stranger. “I’ve got you okay?” You look up and Eddie is already looking down at you making you feel even more at ease because his eyes are soft and his smile is sweet as he looks at you.

“Okay.” Is all you can say making Eddie’s hold on you tighten slightly as he leans down and places a small kiss to the top of your head in an attempt to help you relax a little more. “Uh so what’s your name?” Eddie laughs as he looks towards the door to check on the location of your ex.

“My name is Eddie.” You just nod and tell him your name in return as your hands somehow find their way into his back pockets as you wrap your arms around his waist. “I can see my wife is a little handsy huh?” You hide your face in his chest as you try to slide your hands from his pockets. “It’s okay sweetheart we’re married remember? No need to be shy.” You can’t help but laugh as Eddie goes back to running his hands up and down your back.

“So how do you know Jason?” You feel Eddie tense up at the mention of your ex’s name and it lets you know whatever memories Eddie has of him aren’t good ones.

“He was my high school’s official asshole.” You look up and rest your chin on Eddie’s chest as you watch his eyes look towards the door of the bar. “I take it he hasn’t changed much?” He asks as he looks down at you with a raised eyebrow making you look away as some memories of your relationship with Jason reply in your head.

“Yeah he hasn’t changed.” Eddie doesn’t miss the way your voice shakes a little as you answer his question.

“I can kick his ass right now if you want me to sweetheart just say the word and he’ll be on the ground.” You may not know Eddie but something tells you he’s not kidding and that he’d get a lot of joy out of beating Jason up. “Let me add that I feel that since I’m your husband it’s kinda my job to beat up your asshole ex boyfriends.” Eddie smiles to himself when he hears you laugh and just shake your head at him.

“As your wife it’s kinda my job to keep you out of trouble.” Eddie lets out a dramatic huff as he drops one of his arms from you so he can reach over and grab his beer and take a long swig from it. “I uh like your rings.” Eddie’s eyes flicker down to yours as he watches you give the rings on his hand that’s holding his beer a good once over.

“Yeah? Which one is your favorite?” He asks as he puts his beer on the bar so he can let you get a better look at his rings. You unwrap your arms from around him so you can take his hand in yours, Eddie tries to ignore how soft your hands feel as you look at his rings giving a lot of attention to his skull one. “You like the skull?” You just nod making Eddie smile because the skull one was also his favorite.

“What are you doing?” Eddie ignores your question as he brings his hand up to his mouth and you feel your eyes go wide as you watch him take his skull ring off and hold it between his lips for a moment before grabbing it. “I can’t take this.” Eddie rolls his eyes as he gently grabs your left hand so he can slide the ring onto your ring finger.

“How are you supposed to be my wife without a ring?” Eddie asks as he reaches over and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“You’ve got the be fucking with me.” You feel your heart drop to your stomach as Jason’s voice fills your ears. Eddie’s arm drops from around you so he can turn and block you from Jason’s view. “Not the freak still hanging around the Hideout.” You see Eddie’s hands form into fists as Jason laughs his almost evil sounding laugh.

“Fuck off Carver don’t you have a ball to go toss into a basket or something?” You giggle making Jason move so he can get a look at you, Eddie is quick to move so he’s still standing between you and the ex jock.

“What the fuck is going on?” Eddie looks at you over his shoulder making sure you’re okay and you just give him a reassuring smile as you place your hand on his lower back.

“Just enjoying a night out with my wife.” Jason’s eyes go as wide as golf balls as Eddie explains what the two of you are doing at the Hideout.

“Your wife? Wow okay I mean even you…Munson the town freak can do better than her she’s-” Jason doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Eddie’s fist collides with his cheek knocking him to the ground.

“Next time you think about saying anything about her,” Eddie kneels down as he speaks so he’s only a few inches away from Jason’s face as he groans in pain. “Don’t.” He spits as he stands up and turns so he can grab your hand and walk you towards the back of the bar. “I’m sorry…I am so sorry.” You just shake your head as Eddie’s hands gently cup your face as he looks you over to make sure you’re okay because he’s never gotten into a fight before let alone knocked someone to the ground and that’s the last thing he wanted you to have to deal with tonight.

“It’s okay.” You reassure him as you place your hands over his that are still on your face. “Thank you.” Eddie just shrugs as he gives you a small smile.

“Like I said it’s my job as your husband to beat up your asshole ex boyfriends.” You laugh as Eddie leans in closer, he pauses as he get a few inches from your face. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” Eddie doesn’t have to wait for your answer because your lips are on his in a mater of seconds for a sweet kiss.

3K notes · View notes

whereireid · 10 months

Text

˚ · . 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂

୭ 🧷 ✧ 𝟑,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: eddie munson x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: established relationship, praise. nsfw content. public blowjobs, cum, getting caught (mildly).

A white sundress, once so beautiful and pure like it’s owner, is now stained and torn. The sticks and stones and mud rough up the fabric, the forest floor an unsuitable place to kneel. Legs press eagerly into the ground as you bob forward, your head dangerously close to hitting the top of the bench. You don’t care, the writhing of Eddie enough encouragement to further push yourself forward.

You nuzzle against Eddie’s pelvis, wiry curls tickling your nose as you bottom out. Your tongue slides out of your mouth, the burn of opening your jaw so wide addicting, illiciting the fire within you to blaze. Your tongue laps at his balls, your throat constricted by the weight of his cock, your cheeks stained with tears as you force yourself into humiliation for an ouncd of praise. A risky groan escapes Eddie’s mouth, his thumb grazing your cheek as you hollow your cheeks, your tongue withdrawing back into it’s warm hole of a mouth, running over the ridge of his shaft..

“You dirty girl,” he says breathily, “getting on your knees and sucking my cock when I’ve got a client to meet. Too good to me.”

You hum in response, gliding your tongue across his red tip. You want to satisfy him; aim only to forever please him. The ridges of the sticks press into your knees as you eagerly bring your hands up to cup his thighs, choking on his thick, heavy cock. Eddie hisses; his hands tender as his thumb swipes your face.

Hot and wet. Rows of pearly white teeth stay hidden as you force yourself down again, your tongue stretched along the underside of his cock. Eddie’s fingers press into your cheeks, forcing you to hollow out. His cock, all seven inches of it, is swallowed by your throat, his balls resting against your chin. Spit coats his navel and thighs, dribbles down the corner of your lips, drips onto the floor.

“That’s it,” he praises, “take it. Take me in.”

You gag, your nose pressed into his tummy. Eddie grunts, his hands coming up to the back of your head. One palm presses against your skull, the other hand curling into a fist, beating down on the back of his hand, forcing your mouth to bob. You choke, your fingers curling into his thighs, and you attempt to shake your head. The autumn breeze chills you, and your throat burns and your eyes sting as Eddie’s legs begin to tremble.

Thick, ropey cum spurts onto your tongue. “Don’t swallow,” he hisses, his fingers curling in your hair, pulling at the strands as he finishes. Warmth pools in his belly, a ferocious fire tingling everywhere as you gaze up at him with glistening eyes; the face of innocence tainted, all by him.

You do as he says; refuse to swallow until he’s done pumping your mouth full of his cum. Knees sore, you sit below the picnic table, watching Eddie tuck himself back into his trousers. Watching, with pitiful eyes as he commands you to open your mouth, to show him his seed.

Appreciation flutters throughout his features as you stick your tongue out. Filthy praise dances out of his parted lips, sending a tingle rushing to your core. You swallow his cum with your mouth open, and he smiles down at you, the sound of crunching leaves sending panic rushing throughout you.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie, you couldn’t wait ‘til you were home?”

Warmth flushes your cheeks as Eddie's thumb stays grazing your face, forever loving. "Don't shit your pants, Harrington," he bites, "I'm all finished, now."

1K notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 7 months

Text

my little scaredy cat

request: [anon] i would love to see watching horror movies with best friend!eddie and reader instinctively grabs his arm and hides herself against him and it leads to feelings and confessions haha

warnings: none! except it's unedited, which would be scary if that wasn't 90% of my writing on here lmao

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k+

i had a lot of fun busting this one out. it's just so cute and certainly how i wish i was spending my halloween! also, rest assured, i am also eyeing the other request you submitting anon. <3 happy haunting, my friends.

This was such a stupid idea. Such a stupid, stupid idea.

You’ve always been a scaredy cat. Everyone in your friend group was well aware of it – you loved the idea of Halloween, but your poor heart just couldn’t take most of the frights that came with the eccentric holiday.

It was fine, most of the time. If anyone had the urge to plan out a day at a pumpkin patch, you were eagerly accepting the invitation. If anyone wanted to bake any sort of sweet treats laced with pumpkin spice or caramel apple flavor profiles, you were already in your car and armed with the perfect recipe to help them. Someone wanted to peruse the decoration aisles of various stores? Wait no more, the perfect shopping buddy could be found in you. You, who could handle most of the trivial and sweet aspects of the holiday. You, who divulged in the more aesthetic side of it all rather than the scary side of it.

Your distaste of being jumpscared or unnerved by gore and ghouls alike only really caused issues when it came to your best friend, Eddie Munson.

His taste in experience of the frightful time of year was entirely the opposite of yours. It’s not that he didn’t like decorating caramel apples with you or that he didn’t find your choice in decorations cute, because he did. But he liked the terrifying aspect of it all – he liked the adrenaline rush of fictional danger.

And friendship, in all its glory, is about give and take, is it not?

Compromise. That’s what he called it when he’d begged and pleaded for you to join him in a movie night. Because the moment the suggestion fell from his lips, you both knew he had no intentions of watching one of your usual festive movies that only teased about the creatures that crept through the night. PG-13 films that didn’t really do it for him. No, Eddie Munson had insisted you join him for a movie night, and you both knew exactly what kind of movie he intended to play.

You just hadn’t anticipated the scariest fucking movie you’d ever endured for the boy beside you on the couch.

“Shit!”

Your squeak is muffled over by the crescendo of creepy instrumental echoing from the small TV across the room. A cycle had quickly been found during this movie night; the movie would fall eerily silent as a tense scene arrived, you’d tense every single muscle so hard that Eddie could feel you shaking from the other side of the couch, and then once the jumpscare occurred and your small squeals were let out involuntarily, his own laughter would follow.

“Oh, come on,” he coos a little, leaning closer to the middle of the couch, still a fair distance away from your figure bundled up in blankets that were being used more as shields than anything at this point, “That one wasn’t even that bad!”

“To you!” you snap, yanking the fabric back down from your eyes only to glare at Eddie rather than look at whatever grotesque was plaguing the screen, “I’m a scaredy cat, remember?”

And oh, remember he does. In all your years of friendship, Eddie had called you that nickname more times than either of you could count. He never meant it with ill will, but it was easier to tease you than to admit just how adorable he found your small reactions.

Easier to tease than to admit just how badly he wishes you would seek protection or refuge from him during the scares he put you through.

His face falls slightly, but he doesn’t let his small grin slip up, not wanting to give himself or his twinge of guilt away, “I’m sorry, kitty cat. C’mere – I can protect you from all the big bad monsters-”

Eddie’s opened arms are only met with one of the pillows you’d stolen off his bed to make the couch more comfortable. It smacks into the center of his chest with deadly aim and ferocious power, making him let out an exaggerated oomph.

“Fuck you,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders now that the scare had passed. You almost tack on a comment about how he’s lucky you like him, because you would never endure this for anyone else.

Robin had tried. Steve had tried. Nancy had tried. They’d all tried to entice you in the scarier, classic Halloween experiences to no avail. Every offer of going to a haunted house, or attending the premiere of the newest horror movies at the local theater, were shot down before they even finished their sentences.

Only one person could break your staunch demeanor on your limits. And right now, you sort of hated his guts.

Eddie softens a bit, watching the way you pout and curl into yourself just a little tighter.

“Sweetheart,” he finally drops the cool guy demeanor, his voice gentle as he leans over with genuine concern, “We can turn it off, if you really want. Hell, if you want me to, I’ll put on something in your taste. Little Shop of Horrors, or maybe Beetlejuice? Those don’t usually scare you.”

The offer is enticing. But you have a point to prove.

“No,” you sit up a little straighter, square your shoulders with a little more defiance and faux bravery, “No, you wanted to watch…”

You pause, and Eddie smiles softly as he supplies the title of his film of choice, “Poltergeist.”

“Right, yes, Poltergeist. You wanted to watch it, so we’re gonna watch it.”

Your stubbornness is admirable.

Even when it falters. Even when another jumpscare has you ever so slightly scooching towards the center of the couch, no longer pressed to the opposite arm from Eddie in defiance. Even when Eddie spreads his legs casually, and you bump your knee into his thigh, the slightest touch bringing immense comfort.

Once you discover that, it all seems downhill from there.

A press of a knee against the side of his thigh turns into your side brushing his. Suddenly, the blanket you’d wielded like a weapon becomes shared. Moments where you try to hold up a barrier between your eyes and the screen cause slight disturbances in Eddie’s own vision. And then, it happens.

The thing he’d been diabolically planning for years. The one scenario he’d dreamt of every Halloween season, the one intention he’d held secretly every time he’d put your through endless scares.

The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest.

He almost missed it, it happens so suddenly. One moment, you’re just curling up a little bit closer to him. The next, your arms fully wiggly their way around his bicep, capturing his arm in your grasp as your face buries into his shoulder. He can no longer smell the buttery popcorn or faint chocolate on his breath as you invade his space. It’s all sweet shampoo and subtle perfume that tickles his nose, skin against skin in a quick flush as he can hear the vibrations of your predictable scream against the fabric of his shirt.

You hardly seem to notice the sudden entanglement of your bodies in all your fear — your knees practically in his lap and your torso clinging onto his forearm for dear life. You’re acting on instinct, seeking out humane comfort without considering what you were doing.

When you do notice, you don’t let go, only slacken your grip.

“Oh, I-“ you stutter, pulling back slightly to look up at a stunned Eddie, “I’m sorry, that’s- I just- I was scared and-“

“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, eyes blown wide, “It’s… it’s fine.”

It’s more than fine.

His heart races in a way no horror movie or haunted house could incite. Every nerve ending tingles, everywhere his body connects to yours burning in delicious warmth. He wants to spend an eternity like this — you, curled up to him, clinging to him like your holy savior.

Years, and years, and years of wait pays off. Patience is surely virtue as those big eyes of yours look into his.

After a couple awkward beats of silence, you whisper, “I don’t think I like Poltergeist.”

Just like that, you have him laughing again. It’s slow and steady, a gentle chuckle that stirs from his chest in disbelief as he tries to thaw from his shock and yearning.

“You think?” he breathes out, tone not nearly teasing enough to cover up the shakiness.

He swears he can feel your heart pounding against his shoulder.

“Don’t be mean,” you start to scowl, slowly unfurling. But he stops you — angles his arm so you can’t slip your arms away as easily as before, tilting his head in closer.

“Mean? I could never be mean to you, my little scaredy cat.”

“You’re literally being mean as we speak-“

And so, he decides to stop speaking.

It’s impulsive and an even dumber idea than you enduring such a scary movie to be around him. But you look so fucking cute, his heart is tearing up his throat, and suddenly his lips are on yours in his largest spurt of bravery to date. Even more brave than the time he’d made himself a human shield between you and that dude with a chainsaw at the local haunted house, despite the way chainsaws actually kind of made him shit himself.

You don’t fully reciprocate at first. His lips are pressed hard against yours, tips of noses crushed and eyes fluttered shut, and he starts to believe he’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that just washed years of friendship down the drain.

Until your hands tighten on his bicep. Until that soft squeeze comes, and it feels like he can breathe again despite sharing the air with you.

He breaks away for just a second, “I-“

“Don’t be mean,” you repeat your earlier words with entirely new meaning now. He opens his eyes and finds yours already pleading up at his face, glossy and desperate, movie forgotten.

Those hands once squeezing his bicep let go and move to the collar of his t-shirt. Normally, he’d make a comment about you stretching it out, deforming the perfect fit that took him ages to wear in, but he can’t be bothered to feel anything but delight when you’re tugging him back in for another kiss.

And the last thing he wants to be is mean. So he kisses you kindly, kisses you with all the care in the world that he had buried beneath his skin since the day he met you. Kisses you like it could scare away all the monsters that wait in the shadows. Like he’d lay down his life to protect you from the very frights he’d been subjecting you to for far too long now.

“Hey,” he mumbles, pulling back briefly, “Hey.”

This time, his forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pauses the kisses.

“God, Munson, I’ve waited for this God knows how long, sat through so many fucking scary movies, and you’re really going to-“

“Hold on, what?”

He’s grinning so hard, it aches. In his cheeks, in his chest, in the back of his head. Your words sink in and he relishes each syllable, even in your frustration.

“I- Uh,” you pull back suddenly, fingers still loosely tangled in his t-shirt, “I-“

“Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he insists, eyes finally fluttering back open to catch the embarrassment painted plainly across your face. You wear a nearly painful expression that only tightens as you know he’s watching you, “Just how many scary movies have you sat through wanting me to kiss you?”

“Fuck off,” you sigh out, shaking your head a little, “I mean it. Fuck right off-“

“Cause I could probably give a ballpark number for how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you during them,” he continues on quickly, “Actually, I bet I could count how many times I suggested watching these fuckin’ films just for this moment only to chicken out.”

Your eyes are open again in an instant. Sparkling with hope and realization of what he was getting at. “Excuse me?”

“Do you really think I’m that mean?” he scoffs, finally reaching up for your hands, surprisingly calm despite the delightful storm wreaking havoc in his chest. He takes your knuckles in his and lets his thumb trail right over them, “No offense, but if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have-“

“You like me?”

Your voice is sweet as honey, bright and drowning out the horror movie still playing.

He smiles, boyish glint and all, as he confirms, “I like you.”

You put the first real amount of distance between the two of you since you’d started to cling to him out of fear, almost as if signaling that bravery beginning to bubble over in your chest, “You actually like me?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I- Well, maybe,” you bite your lip, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the need to capture it between his own teeth, “I just… I always thought you might like someone a little braver.”

His nose wrinkles, hands still twisting yours in his, “Excuse me? I think you’re plenty brave.”

“Eddie, you’ve said it yourself, I’m a goddamn scaredy cat.”

“So?”

“So,” you persist, shuffling so that your legs fold beneath you and you gain some leverage over him, “You’re the exact opposite. You love scary things. Not even just during Halloween, but year round. And you’re telling me you like me even though I’m a scaredy cat.”

“I like you because you’re a scaredy cat, thank you very much,” he corrects you immediately, “I love the way you always need me to protect you. I know, I know — not very feminist of me. I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really fuckin’ cute, y’know?” now that his floodgates have opened, he’s pouring out all the words he’s held back for so long, “And besides, you’re more than just a scaredy cat. You’re also so smart, so beautiful, so funny. Yeah, you scare easily, but you’re also the same person who is the first to put me in my place when I’m being an absolute little shit. And don’t even get me started on all the cute faces you make when you’re talking about things you actually like, or when you’ve been baking with Nance and have flour all over your cheeks-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop his rambling before he can embarrass you any further. Any more affection, and your face might end up buried in his shoulder again, “I get it. You like me.”

It’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you only stare, both smiling stupid, the screams of whatever climax occurring in the movie not even reaching your ears. All you can hear is the echo of his words, of his admission. And all he can hear is the pretty way your breath catches when he gives a small squeeze to your palm.

It’s nice. It should be more anxiety inducing, it should be more dramatic. Eddie Munson should be absolutely losing his mind right now because he just kissed his best friend he’s been in love with for ages, but he isn’t. Actually, for the first time in a while, it feels as though he’s finally found it — he’s found his mind, he’s found his peace as he’s staring at your shy expression. It just feels right. Like a sigh of relief from the Universe.

“I like you, too,” you break the silence, unable to meet his gaze, “I mean, you probably already got that, but-“

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I did gather that, but my God, please say it again.”

Your eyes meet him, and another piece clicks into place.

Right. It’s so fucking right.

“I like you,” you repeat yourself, a smile beginning to dance on your lips. He can’t help himself — he leans forward and pecks the corner of your upturned mouth, “I like you,” the repetition is music to his ears as he plants a second kiss on your cheek, “I like you, Munson.”

His peppered kisses mark every inch of skin available to him, making giggles begin to escape you. You even try to hide from his onslaught, but it’s no use. He’s quick to drop your hands and wrap his arms around you, tugging you in close and trapping you against him as each kiss grows more obnoxious. Loud smacking sounds, deliberately leaving spit behind that has you squealing. It’s nothing like the squeaks from when you were watching the movie; these small noises are filled with a little more joy, a little more happiness that only fuels Eddie.

“Eddie!” you try to scold, placing two hands on his solid chest, “Oh my God, stop it. You’re gross.”

“You love it,” he mutters with his mouth fully pressed to your temple, nose buried in your hair. That sweet, sweet shampoo intoxicating him.

You like him. He didn’t fuck it up.

You finally go slack in his touch, succumbing and letting him place you in his lap, curled up comfortably as you sigh, “Yeah. Okay, maybe I do. Whatever.”

“Oh, don’t act all tough now, kitty cat.”

Your hands are curled back in the fabric against his chest and you share the wonderful ache he had been feeling in his own cheeks and bones as you look down at him with playfully squinted eyes.

When he ducks down for another kiss, you stop him easily, “Nope. First, I have a request.”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.”

“Please turn off that goddamn movie.”

He throws his head back in laughter that shoots straight for your heart. The kind of laughter that haunts a chilled autumn night as children prance the streets for candy, as teenagers get into mischief in distant bonfire parties, as elderly couples enjoy morning coffees over eerie fog.

It kind of feels like home. It kind of feels like everything is as it should be, finally.

“I suppose I can do that for you, my little scaredy cat,” he muses as his head tilts back forward, chest swelling with affection, “Besides, I think I know something we can do that’s a little more fun than watching the Poltergeist.”

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

His arms tighten around you as he suddenly throws the two of you to lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours and pick necklace nipping at your chin while he reaches out to click off the TV. The weight of him between your hips feels even better than either of your wildest dreams.

Years. You couldn’t believe it had taken years for this, and neither could he. But patience is virtue, and he probably would have waited another thousand years for this feeling, truth be told.

“This,” he says boldly once the TV buzzes in sudden silence, dipping down and continuing where the two of you left off. Two sets of lips fit together like the world’s easiest jigsaw puzzle.

It’s safe to say the rest of the night, any further squeaks and squeals you let out aren’t due to ghosts.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #ghost's writing #ghostly halloween #seriously not edited #i have to be up in mere hours to get dressed up for work haha #but i HAD to write this goddamn #i had another idea where the roles are reversed in a different scenario i might try to write and post tomorrow #most unrealistic thing is that reader didn't immediately cling to him for comfort like i would lmao #i love scary movies even when they terrify me #i bid you all a very spooky night as i go pass out now #sorry if it's bad and sorry for the unoriginal title but my brain is just mush right now waaaaah

668 notes · View notes

solarmorrigan · 2 months

Note

steddie and 💗 for the kiss ask game!

Hello! Thank you for the prompt, I really enjoyed writing this one <3

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

Prompt from this post

If anyone asks, Eddie will say he prefers to work while standing because he thinks better when he can move around.

And this isn’t a lie; whether he’s crafting a campaign, working on a new song, drawing, or doing some writing, he has a tendency to get up and pace, or to run to grab something for a reference, or stand and try acting something out to see how it rolls, or– well. His desk chair doesn’t really see a lot of use.

So it’s true that he thinks better while standing; it’s just not the main reason he prefers it.

The main reason is that he happens to be a night owl, and his boyfriend—his beloved, his one and only, his baby—is a horrible, horrible morning person. Which means that he tends to go to bed earlier than Eddie. Which means that when Eddie works late into the night, eventually–

“Hey.” A warm, familiar weight drapes itself across Eddie’s back, arms coming up to circle his waist, the voice a sleepy purr in his ear as a chin rests on his shoulder.

“Hey.” Eddie smiles, tilting his head to the side just enough to bump it against Steve’s. “What’s up?”

Steve hums, the sound sighing out of him as he leans further onto Eddie. “It’s late.”

“Yeah?” Eddie glances at the clock; it’s just gone midnight, which isn’t that late, but he’ll play along. “Guess so.”

“I think I’m heading to bed,” Steve says, pulling back just enough to press a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, before tucking his chin right back where it had been.

“So is this goodnight?” Eddie asks, pressing back into Steve a little.

“Mm,” Steve hums again, more contemplative than in agreement. “Doesn’t have to be.”

“You gonna stay out here with me, then, sunshine?” Eddie teases, and Steve leans a little more heavily against him in retaliation, just enough that Eddie has to readjust his stance so he doesn’t topple over into the desk.

“Bed’s cold without you,” Steve says, predictable as ever. “You should come with me.”

As if Steve isn’t the main reason the bed is warm when they’re both in it; Eddie’s own personal space heater.

“But what if I’m busy?” Eddie asks, nudging Steve with his elbow.

“Are you busy?” Steve asks.

And it’s an honest question, Eddie knows; if he tells Steve ‘yes,’ then Steve will let him be and he’ll head to bed on his own without any hard feelings. But he’s really just been doodling for the last half hour, and he doesn’t mind the idea of being convinced to follow Steve.

“I guess I could find a place to stop,” Eddie hedges.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, turning his head to press a few more kisses up the side of Eddie’s throat.

They’re slow, sleepy, gentle things; not leading anywhere, really, just affectionate. In spite of that (maybe even because of it), they still make goosebumps pop up across Eddie’s skin.

“For you?” Eddie says, wiggling around in Steve’s hold until he can turn enough to face him. “Anything.”

Steve’s bright smile paired with heavy-lidded eyes is probably one of Eddie’s favorite things.

“You’ll find a place to stop your super important doodling, just for me?” Steve asks slyly, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

Busted.

“Just for you, baby,” Eddie says anyway, leaning in for a quick kiss that really ends up being more of a brush of smiling mouths.

“Well,” Steve says, his gaze warm and pleased, like Eddie’s done something great (the way he always looks at Eddie, the way Eddie will never, ever get enough of), “lucky me.”

#starryeyedjanai #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddiesteve #back to my roots: all fluff no substance #actually I think my roots might be contrived hurt/comfort scenarios but that's for tomorrow 👀#solar wrote #answers from solar #long post

252 notes · View notes

laserbeamsky · 4 months

Text

I woke up this morning really inspired for the first time in years and this is the result <3

It’s over much too soon. It lasted about half an hour, sweaty foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, and he didn’t think that was too bad, all things considered. You were still laying on top of him, chest pressed to his, your cheek cupped in the palm of his hand.

He was always breaking things. He remembered the day that Wayne hung all the mugs up on the wall, out of reach, the day Eddie had dropped one and slashed a deep gash into the palm of his hand trying to pick up the pieces. He’d been terrified, blindly fumbling at the shards of ceramic with tears blurring his vision. He’d had to get stitches, and now the old silvery scar was pressed against your cheek. He’d never really believed in anything, but for the first time in his life, he found himself praying, the tips of his fingers pushing into your damp hairline. Please don’t let me break her.

He could feel your heart thudding against his own, slowing back down to normality, becoming steady again. Your hooded eyes met his, and you smiled softly, kiss swollen lips pulling up at the corners, your cheek pressing further into his palm.

“Hey” you almost whispered, as if speaking at a normal volume might break some kind of trance. Your breath smelled sweet, of movie theatre popcorn and blue raspberry slush puppies. He’d leaned in to kiss you while your mouth was still ice cold, and didn’t stop until there was no trace of blue left on your lips.

“Hey” he replied, his heart swelling, the smile on his face so wide he thought it might split open. The corners of his eyes crinkled with the force of it. You leaned in to kiss him again, teeth grazing against his chapped bottom lip, and when you pulled away, you lay your head on the pillow. Your face was an inch away, and he could feel each breath you took fanning softly over his face. But that inch… that damn inch. It was enough for the tiniest sliver of doubt to weasel its way in and settle between his ribs.

Everybody Eddie brought home left with a piece of him. It was his nature to give, to lay it all out on the table, and he was usually pretty good at letting things go. He didn’t expect phone calls, or declarations of undying affection, and when people walked out of the door with a tiny piece of him clutched in their palm, he didn’t ever expect them to return it. But you. You were about to take the biggest piece yet.

“You can go. If you need to. If you’re uh… busy.” His smile wasn’t as wide, plastered onto his face like a mask.

“Do you want me to go?” Usually he’d say sure, no worries, you should probably leave anyway. But the look on your face, the unguarded sincerity with which you looked into his eyes, made his heart skip a beat. It was like someone was in his stomach swinging a bat around, and they’d just hit a home run to lodge right in his throat. He swallowed around the hard lump.

“No.” He thought he sounded like a child. He hoped his eyes weren’t welling up.

“Then i’ll stay.” You pushed a stray curl behind his ear with delicate fingertips, the gesture so fond and so unfamiliar that if eddie wasn’t on the verge of tears before, he definitely was now. As you pressed your lips to his one more time, the lump in his throat turned to honey, seeping into his blood, warming his skin, setting the hairs on his arms standing on end. As you pulled away, forehead pressed to his once again, he cupped your face once more, thumb tracing along your bottom lip.

Careful. Don’t break her. He swallowed, eyes scrunching closed, his lips catching the corner of your mouth one more time.

I love you. Don’t ever leave me. “You hungry?” he said instead.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #mushwrites

394 notes · View notes

luveline · 10 months

Text

𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

eddie fights to get his usually shy and moderately intoxicated girlfriend to bed when you insist on clinging to him at every turn. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k.

cw intoxicated reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're holding onto Eddie's arm tight enough to leave little fingerprint bruises behind. He doesn't think he'd mind, and he doesn't try to slacken your grip as he helps you up the stairs into the trailer.

"Do we have to be quiet?" you whisper. Or, attempt to whisper.

"Nah, Wayne's working." He closes the door behind you and leans over your shoulder to put his car keys in the bowl on the sideboard. "Oh, hey."

You've given up on clinging to his arm and have started cuddling his waist instead. Eddie feels his eyes go wide, peering down at you almost like he's worried you'll realise you're being bold and move away. You rub your cheek against his leather jacket and sigh. "I love your hugs," you say dreamily, words slurred but understandable.

This isn't news to him, but it's definitely nothing you've said aloud before. Eddie's your boyfriend, he knows you enjoy a warm hug, but he's your new-ish boyfriend, and you're one of the shyest people he's ever met. Half the time he kisses you and your cheeks catch fire.

"Yeah?" he asks fondly.

You break the hug quicker than he'd like and bend at the waist. Laughing unsurely, you attempt to untie your shoelaces, wobbling like a cardboard house in a hurricane. Eddie catches onto your shoulders to hold you up, but you can't last.

You make a strange sound, indignation and admission at once, and put your hands behind you to sit down. You go down hard enough to make the kitchenette shake, trailer walls not especially durable.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you.

You blink at him glassily. "Will you take my shoes off, please?"

"Yeah," he says. He laughs and tries not to. "Yeah, I'll take your shoes off for you. Pass em over."

You put one of your feet on top of his knees clumsily. Eddie unties the bunny knots you'd made earlier, neat and tidy, not wanting anyone to judge you for messy laces, you'd said.

He slides your shoes off and gives your toes a squeeze. Sober you would blow a gasket, shuffling away from him with a flustered squeak, but drunk you must like it. You leave your foot on his thigh and offer him the other shoe.

"Do you like my socks?"

Eddie digs his nail into the second bunny knot. "I love them. Why, are they new?"

Your socks are normal white crew socks with a black hem stripe, black toes, and black heels. You hum at his observation appreciatively, your hand straying to your stomach. "And my underwear, too."

"How much did you have to drink while I was in the bathroom?" he asks. Eddie's seen you in your underwear, but it's still unlike you to allude to your skivvies while fully dressed.

"Not much. Why?"

"It's not like you to talk about underwear," he tells you, sliding off your shoe and giving your foot a squeeze just as he had the first time, thumb digging into the sole.

You giggle and yank your legs up and away from him. "That tickles."

"Sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay. I forgive you, duh."

He laughs, thrilled to see you this adorable and this beamingly happy. He can make you smile like no one else, and of course you're not always shy when you're with him, but it takes time. Eddie wouldn't change you for anything, it's just a real nice thing to see you so proudly happy.

And hopelessly drunk. You lay on the floor of your side for a moment, jeans riding up your calves as you curl in on yourself, your jacket falling off your shoulder.

Eddie crawls to your side. He indulges himself, sliding his hand between your cheek and the floor to lift your head. You meet his eyes dozily, sparks of happiness to be seen in your dilated pupils and the apples of your cheeks as you smile at him.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks.

"You–" you begin, not sure where you're ending, "I missed you."

"You missed me?" You're loaded. "Don't worry about missing me, sweetheart, I'm right here. Can I ask you for something?"

You nod hurriedly. "Of course you can," you breathe.

"Will you help me get to bed?"

You reach for his elbow, your hand coasting up the length of his arm to his shoulder. "Stay here," you say. You're pleading with him, eyebrows drawing together, fingers screwing up in the folds of his jacket.

"You'll be comfier on my lumpy mattress than you are on the floor, trust me."

"I'm tired," you say.

"Come to bed with me," he says softly, mirroring your tone.

"And we'll have a hug?"

Holy fucking shit, Eddie's fucked. He thinks, I'm gonna marry this girl, cheeks aching with the effort it takes to keep his huge smile at bay as he helps you sit up.

"I'll give you as many hugs as you want," he says, brokering a deal with you right there on the floor.

You agree to his terms, holding your hands out to be pulled up. Eddie stands and pulls you, and you do your part, attempting to stand with a wobble as you go, but he's right there to catch you. Thus begins another round of clinging, your fingers braceleting his wrist, your hips on his.

Eddie leads you down the hallway. It takes longer than it should, what with your face in his neck and your less than subtle sniffing. He smells better than you do, your shirt soaked with what could be craft beer but might just be a half a cup of cider, neither of which he pictures you drinking.

"Who tipped their drink on?" he asks, pushing the bedroom door open with his elbow.

"What?" you ask, lifting your head from his neck. He looks down at you briefly.

"What happened? You have beer all down your shirt, babe. Did someone tip their drink on you?"

"Robin did, she said to tell you it was Steve." You raise a hand to his cheek. It's cold, and it smells like your moisturiser. "But I don't keep secrets from you."

He doesn't mean to melt under your touch. He has things he should be doing, depositing you in the bed, changing your shirt, tucking you in for the night with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol for your perusal in the morning, but it's a startling delight to have you stroking his cheek. You usually only do this when he's half asleep or you're very tired; hoping he'll forget, maybe, and forgetting your own inhibitions.

"You don't?" he asks gently.

Your fingertips slip from the soft part of his cheek up to his eyelashes. You don't touch them, breathing out the side of your mouth rather than in his face. Drunk but not enough to stop treating him with care.

"No… except for last Friday when we went to the Hawk. I really did need to use the bathroom."

Well, Eddie knew that. You're shy, that doesn't make you a good actress. "And now we have no secrets," he says, covering your hand on his cheek.

Your eyes slip closed a touch. Eddie doesn't really believe himself, he's sure there's lots of stuff you don't tell him. He guesses when you need something to drink because you hate asking, and he can't work out whether you like hotdogs or if you're just humouring him when he makes them, but he thinks any secret worth having is one you've let him in on.

He puts you on the end of the bed.

"Can I help you get changed?" he asks, already turning for the wardrobe where he keeps your left behind pyjamas and miscellaneous clothes, washed and pressed and waiting for you the next time you come around.

"You haven't asked if you can undress me in ages."

He laughs like an idiot, scooping an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your pyjama pants into his arms. "Now, that's not true. I always ask, but half the time you're already getting there." He turns to you, finds you've disappeared into your shirt, elbow twisted into the bottom and arms slack. "Like that," he laughs.

"Stuck," you mumble.

He chucks your pyjamas down and slips his fingers under your shirt where it's folded at the top of your shoulders. "Lift your arms, sweetheart. There you go."

He laughs again when he sees your rumpled hair and face, dropping your acidic smelling shirt on the floor. "There she is. Hey, gorgeous," Eddie teases, running the side of his hand down your cheek quickly. "Bra on or off?"

"Can I have my shirt first, please?" you ask.

He loves you. Your shyness creeping back in despite his having seen it all before is endearing, and he wouldn't ever say no to you. "Of course you can. Do you need my help again?"

"I think this part will be easier."

You're right about that. You get your shirt on easily enough, unclipping your bra without help. Nor do you need help with your pants.

Eddie strips off quickly, swapping jeans for plaid pants and his t-shirt for a ribbed undershirt. He stretches out day long aches and kicks aside your dirty clothes on his way to the light switch, flicking it off, only his lamp left on now.

You look lovely. Makeup smudged, watching him move around his small room with your face propped heavily in your hand, a practically cherubic smile playing on your lips.

He pulls back the sheets and grabs you by the waist, lifting you very slightly to encourage you up against the pillows. You look at him like he's a wonder, adoration softening each line of your features. Your lips part slightly, your eyebrows rise upward.

He thinks it might be really special, to be looked at as you look at him.

"Let me get you a glass of water," he says.

Neither of you have managed to brush your teeth. Honestly, he doesn't think you can stand up any more to try. Water will have to do.

"No!" you say, louder than you've likely ever spoken to him when he isn't tickling you. "You said we'd hug."

"We will," he says, giving your hand a little shake where it clings to his.

"Please, Eddie, I just want to cuddle with you," you confess, giving him the best case of the puppy dogs he's ever seen.

Eddie thinks, Whatever, we'll just have to make sure we brush extra hard in the morning. He can't deny you any longer. He didn't stand a chance.

He climbs over your legs and you tuck him in affectionately, ramming your forehead into his chest and throwing your arm around his waist with less care. You nuzzle in, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you get comfortable.

"This is so nice," you praise, words sluggish, slurred even more than they were as fatigue weighs you down.

"This is perfect," he agrees, easing as flat as he can onto his back, nothing for his arms to do now but wrap around you and hold you close.

You sigh again. It's even happier than the first, your leg creeping up as you hook your knee over his hip. "I love you, Munson. Thanks for…" You yawn and rub your nose into his chest. "Thank you. I love you."

"You told me twice," he says, lifting his head to give you a teeny tiny kiss on your temple.

"It was true for both of the times," you mumble.

Despite relaxing atop him, your arms are like a vice. He doesn't care, he really couldn't care less, 'cos if you weren't hugging him like this he'd be hugging you tighter. Eddie speaks against your skin tenderly, "I love you, too," he murmurs, sealing it with a punctuating kiss.

He rubs your shoulder, feels your arms give him one final squeeze.

"Is now a bad time to mention I need the bathroom?" he asks.

Your answering snore tickles his chest.

—

"Eddie."

Eddie scrunches his face up. You look down at him, flustered, wondering if it would be better for you to run out on him and never see him again. He groans as he wakes, turning his head and distorting the stain of your lipgloss smudged the length of his neck.

You nibble the inside of your lip. He doesn't seem particularly annoyed with you. But he is mostly asleep.

"Eddie, how did we get home last night?" you ask, rubbing between your eyebrows. "You didn't drive, did you?"

He'd had two beers, which wasn't too much for him to handle but is more than anyone should have if they want to drive themselves home.

Eddie peels his eyes open. "Steve drove us."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'm super embarrassed. I got kinda wasted, huh?"

Eddie's hands slip under your shirt to wrap around your soft stomach. He pulls you in an attempt to make you lay down again.

"You were very drunk," he agrees, yawning into your ribs.

You put your hand on the other side of his head to hold yourself up. "Was I a handful?" you ask softly, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

He smiles against your shirt. You feel the curve of his lips, goosebumps erupting underneath it. Shy, you gasp quietly and try to escape his hold, but he hugs you ever tighter, snuggling into your chest.

"You were great. I missed sober you, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Drunk you doesn't get goosebumps when I touch her." Smugness colours his voice, his hand rubbing up and down your naked back roughly to chase away your shivers.

"I wasn't weird, was I?" you worry, more than alarmed by the gap in your memory.

"You told me all about your new underwear," —you groan— "and how badly you needed to pee at the Hawk."

You drop your head on to his, your foreheads touching, your hand curling around his neck. "Did I do anything vaguely in the land of acceptable behaviour?" you mumble in defeat.

"You told me you loved me. Multiple times. Once in your sleep." Eddie sounds delighted.

"That's unfontunately true," you grumble, not really meaning it.

He laughs and gives you a firm tug. "Cuddle with me, babe."

You cuddle him if only to hide your face from the world, face in his hair, hands under his back. Eddie draws a path of fondness up and down the dip of your back, laughing at each new crop of goosebumps as they rise. He's sweet enough to let you forget the mess you've made for at least a few stolen hours that morning.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed, please reblog if you have the time it makes a huge difference for me ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

5K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

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."

8K notes · View notes

cerisereids · 2 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞- 𝐞.𝐦. (𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞’𝐬 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

i don’t rly go here at this current moment in time but i def want to start writing for eddie more so im partaking in @carolmunson’s writing challenge!! details found here!

pairing- eddie munson x fem!reader

summary- you’re teaching eddie some baking skills ahead of your family’s holiday party. eddie accidentally lets some insecurities slip. you reassure him how much you love him.

warnings- this lowkey got kind of angsty but only for a little, insecure!eddie but we love him

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

thump.

the collision of soft cushion against the back of your head mats your hair and stops you in your tracks. you pause for a moment, hands settling on the edge of the small trailer’s kitchen. you bite your lip, almost annoyed at yourself that you find his immature behavior so endearing.

“really, eds? are you five?” you chastise lovingly, promptly returning the throw pillow exactly the same way it came.

“oof!” eddie exhales as the pillow comes into contact with his soft tummy, “i'm sooorrryyyyy," he fake whines, sauntering over to your spot in the kitchen, "god forbid i want attention from my girlfriend! didn't realize that was asking so much!"

you roll your eyes at his dramatics but sink into his chest as he encircles his arms around your waist.

"what are we making, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your temple before placing a kiss there.

"my grandmother's famous sugar cookie recipe. you can be in charge of the frosting?" you lean your head back onto his shoulder as you ask the question, your sparkling eyes boring into his uncertain ones.

he sucks in air through his teeth, "i dunno babe, i'm no good at this. in case you forgot, i burn water."

you stiffen in his arms, "don't be like that," you quip, "that's not even true! and you know i hate when you talk about yourself like that. so in case you forgot, you can do anything you set that pretty little mind to." you punctuate your little speech with a kiss to his forehead, hoping it seeps through his brain and he finally understands how amazing he truly is.

"thanks, babe," he mutters sheepishly, his humorous reserve gone, "how do i make frosting? i didn't even know it doesn't always come in cans until just now."

you huff out a laugh, "i brought my recipe book for everything," you explain, pulling out a small notebook full of your grandmother's scribbles, "so as long as you have measuring cups and mixing bowls we should be all set."

he takes a second to rummage through his cupboards, pulling out white plastic cups with faded labels on them- 1 cup, 1/2 cup, 1/4 cup, and so on.

"we don't have any like, nice measuring cups, is this okay?" he asks, voice still meek, cheeks tinted the slightest shade of pink.

“as long as we have the right measurements, i don’t care what they look like,” you flash him your sweetest smile before planting a big kiss on his cheek. you beam when his cheeks flush even deeper.

“soooo…” eddie starts, handing you two mixing bowls and taking one for himself, “who’s all going to be there this weekend?”

you could tell by the unusual nonchalance in his tone that he was nervous, but trying to play it cool. after a lifetime of harassment for being who he was, you knew that the pressure of meeting your family was resting heavy on his shoulders.

“pretty much the whole crew,” you say as lightly as possible, but you still see him tense. “eds. they’re gonna love you. i promise,” you tell him with utmost sincerity.

“really?” he scoffs, putting more elbow grease than necessary into mixing the vanilla cookie frosting, “you positive your picture perfect family is gonna be okay with you bringing some freak to their annual party?” his words have bite to them, and they make you pause. “the fact that your family even has an annual christmas party is beyond me.” he mutters under his breath.

you know what he’s doing, you’ve been here before. eddie sometimes feels insecure about the disparities of his upbringing, and you know by now that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. his bitter words are his armor, protecting him from the vulnerability he shied away from for years. that doesn’t mean they don’t sting, though.

“eddie, if you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem,” you rest your spoon on the lip of the mixing bowl and turn to him, “i love you. everything about you, and my family loves me. which means that they’re going to love you no matter what, because you’re important to me.”

he’s still not entirely convinced, so you opt to pull out the big guns, “eddie. do you love me?”

his eyes snap to yours, wild and incredulous, “of course i do. what kind of question is that?”

“as cheesy as it sounds, that’s all that matters sweetheart. they’re going to see how sweet you love me, and that’s all they’ll need to know you’re amazing,” you thwart his attempts to make himself smaller, “unfortunately for you, babe, you can’t hide from me at this point. i see all of you, i know all of you, and i love all of you,” you move to wrap your arms around his middle, eyes boring into his so he can feel your sincerity.

“you-you really like that?” he chews his bottom lip, “all of me?” the last part comes out quiet, and your heart cracks in your chest.

“i love it, eddie. i love you. i swear i want to go back in time and beat up all those little assholes who made you feel otherwise,” you seal your words with a kiss on his lips, a hint of vanilla frosting dances on your tongue.

“thank you, my love,” he says when you break, squeezing you to his chest in an infamous eddie bear hug, “i love you too.”

the two of you stood there for a minute, your nails scraping at the nape of his neck as he held you close.

264 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

hello! i saw u were hoping for more eddie requests (or less marauders requests, was what you were getting at i think) n i was wondering if u had any thoughts on summer with eds? maybe night swimming…making out on a towel in the back of his van…lots to consider…

p.s. — ive yet to request anything from you, so this is my first chance to say how much i love your work! 🩷

Okay okay, you guys are wearing me down about writing summer blurbs. Twist my arm! Thanks for requesting love ;)

cw: pg-13 smut, mention of not eating

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 858 words

Eddie’s hair has dried frizzy, which doesn’t give you a lot of hope for yours. His skin is still sun-warm, and you shiver for reasons that are multiplying by the minute, pressing close as he mouths over the dip where your neck meets your shoulder. You’re not sure exactly how you’d ended up in Eddie’s lap. You’d climbed in the back of his van to get a towel, and somehow that towel had ended up spread beneath the both of you, scratching lightly at your bare shins as the sun slips below the horizon and your boyfriend brutalizes your neck. He bites down just this side of too hard, making you gasp.

“Eddie,” you plead, fingers winding in his hair. “We can’t do this here.”

He releases the skin of your neck with a lewd suctioning sound, moving to that place under your ear that gets you melty like a popsicle in July. His hands grip your ass, squeezing indulgently as you squirm in his lap. “Says who?”

“Says—” He kisses that favored spot and your head falls to the side to accommodate him, an embarrassingly needy sound escaping you. “—says, I don’t know—the cops.”

Eddie’s laugh is so raucous he has to pull away. You’re not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. His hands slide to your hips, grounding you as he looks at you with eyes wide and incredulous. “The cops?” he asks.

You swallow, nodding. You have this horrible vision of Jim Hopper himself getting a call about the suspicious van parked by the lake, coming over and shining a flashlight into the open back doors to find you both naked and in the middle of things.

Eddie laughs some more, shoulders shaking with it, and you can’t help but snicker a little too just because he is. “Baby, the cops don’t give a shit about what we’re up to. I’m sure they have better things to do.”

You shoot him a look, because you both know damn well that when Hawkins isn’t being threatened by monsters from a parallel universe, it’s completely dead around here.

“Let’s go back to your place,” you urge. “This towel’s all wet anyway, and I wanna shower.”

Eddie makes himself at home in the juncture of your neck again, kissing lazily. “S’not enough room in my shower for both of us,” he complains.

“We can pick this back up after, I know—shit, Eds—” Without warning, his hand slips up to palm your tit, pushing aside the scant covering of your swimsuit. You try to sound reasonable. “I know I taste like lake water.”

“Mhm. It’s hot.”

“It’s gross.”

“You’re gross.” He pauses, lips lifting momentarily from your shoulder. “Okay, wrong comeback. I’m distracted. It’s not gross, baby.” His grip tightens on you a second before he licks up the side of your neck, holding you in place when you squeal and try to get away. “Mm, yummy lake water.”

“You’re disgusting,” you laugh, leaning back and setting your hands on his shoulders so he can’t try it again.

“Aw, come on.” A thick finger slips under the elastic of your bikini bottoms, tracing a line around your hip as his other hand squeezes your boob lightly. Eddie grins at your tiny inhale. “Have a little fun.”

“Eddie,” you say warningly.

“Yes?” Another finger joins the first, your swimsuit stretching to accommodate them.

“I want to go home.” You imbue your voice with as much firmness as you can. When Eddie pouts, you go for the kill. “I’m getting really hungry.”

Immediately, the wickedness leaves his expression, replaced by a sweet concern. “Yeah?” The elastic of your swimsuit snaps back into place, and you jolt. Eddie flattens his palm over the spot, rubbing apologetically. “I forgot, you barely had anything for lunch. You wanna drive through somewhere?”

“No, I can make it until we get home,” you say softly, backpedaling a bit in the face of his caring. “I’m not dying, just a little hungry.”

Eddie’s mouth pulls to one side. “You sure, sweet thing? It’s a bit of a drive back. We could grab McDonalds.” Your eyes widen, and his grin makes a return, this time crooked and dorky. “Yeah?”

“That sounds amazing,” you admit. “Do you think they’ll give me a hashbrown even though it’s not breakfast yet?”

“I’ll make sure they do.” He eases you off his lap, reaching over to close the back doors. You start looking around for your flip-flops. “I think they’re serving breakfast all day now anyways.”

“Ugh, awesome.” You imagine the greasy taste, and your mouth floods with saliva. Shit, you actually are pretty hungry. Eddie climbs into the front seat, reaching for your elbow to help you over the console behind him. The material of the seatbelt feels warm and rough against your skin. “Just to be clear,” you say, “I didn’t mean that I wasn’t having a good time. We still should have a re-do later, after food and showers.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, turning the keys in the ignition so the van rumbles to life underneath you. “No need for a re-do, baby. We’re just having an intermission.”

461 notes · View notes

bruisedboys · 1 year

Note

🍓 — send in a character + a dialogue prompt for a blurb!

“you can kiss me, you know” with lil baby eddie munson <33

summary: eddie kisses shy!you when he gets back from band practice

shy!gn!reader 0.7k words

Eddie comes home from band practice to find you fast asleep on his bed. Your hair is splayed out across his pillows, your shirt rides up your back, exposing a sliver of skin, and your arm dangles over the edge of the bed.

Eddie feels, for a moment, like all the breath has been knocked out of his chest. There you are, so pretty, so lovely, fast asleep on his bed in his room. He stands in the doorway and takes a few seconds to catch his breath.

When his heart’s stopped racing he moves to put his stuff down, hanging his guitar on the wall next to his mirror and shrugging out of his jacket, throwing it over his desk chair. He’s quiet with his movements but you stir anyway. Eddie freezes, but it’s too late, you’re already awake.

You lift your head off the pillows and blink blearily until your eyes land on Eddie.

“Eddie,” you say, voice raspy but no less sweet than usual.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says, rushed. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, if you want to.”

You shake your head and it’s maybe the cutest thing Eddie’s ever seen. Your hair is all rumpled and you’ve got a sleepy pout on your lips.

“No. It’s okay, I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, anyway.” You sit up all the way and tuck your hair behind your ears, cross your legs underneath yourself and look at Eddie expectantly. “How was band?”

Eddie has to take a moment to compose himself, to force his breaths to stop coming in so fast. Something about you, all lovely and homey and adorable sitting in his bed, is really messing with his heart. In a good way.

“It was good,” he says, his voice comes out sounding strained. He clears his throat and tries again. “It was good, thanks for asking, lovely. What did you do while I was gone?”

You shrug. “Read my book. Fell asleep. It was boring without you.”

Eddie thinks his heart does a triple backflip. Butterflies swarm in his stomach at your words and your shy smile.

“Is that so?” He asks, trying to sound as cool and collected as he can when he’s the total opposite.

It works. You go all shy, dipping your head to stare at your knees. It’s adorable. Eddie can’t take it any longer, he strides across the room and closes the gap between you, his knees pressing into the edge of the bed.

He gets a hand under your chin and encourages your head up, lifting until you’re looking at him, your jaw cupped in his hand. You’re somehow even prettier up close. Eddie grins.

“I missed you,” he says, because he did, and if he doesn’t tell you he might burst.

You positively beam. Your cheeks go all plump and flushed and your eyes crinkle at the corners. Eddie thinks his heart misses a few crucial beats.

“I missed you too,” you say softly.

Eddie’s eyes are drawn to your lips. It was inevitable. Your mouth is moving around your words, so why shouldn’t he look? He thinks you’ve caught him looking because you flush all over again.

“Eddie,” you say, a little chiding, a lot fond. You look like you’re trying very hard not to smile. “You can kiss me, you know.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He bends at the waist to kiss you, his knees pressing into the bed and his free hand moving to brace himself on the mattress next to your hip. His mouth meets yours in a chaste kiss, one that has his heart pounding, though he’s not sure it’s going quite as fast as yours. His hand slips to your neck and his thumb brushes your pulse point. It’s racing.

He pulls back to spare both your hearts and you’re smiling when he does. Eddie moves back swiftly, lest he start kissing you until you can’t breathe. He can’t have that.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, because he’s feeling too much for you and it’s overwhelming. A distraction is very necessary. “We can go to McDonald’s, maybe?“

You smile and nod. “Okay,” you say, then, mischievously, “I’m paying.”

Eddie fakes a glare at you. You’re always offering to pay. He thought it was supposed to be the boyfriend’s job to pay for things. Then again, he’s not exactly in the habit of saying no to you. His glare turns into a fond smile very quickly.

“Whatever you want, angel.”

#★ mal writes!#𖤐 2k celebration!#𖦹 sav!#ღ eds #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson scenario #✉️

2K notes · View notes